#it took 32 years for it to finally make its way to the screen! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rullakebu · 6 months ago

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The Fiendish Furrier 2: The Critic (F/M, tickling)

“Ugh, so boring,” Bruno burst out loud in disgust, scanning the screen before him.

…

Bruno Graham, a renowned yet infamous fashion critic in the city, had just heard word that some furrier had landed a major interview and a display of her new line of fur clothing in Vogue magazine. Bianca Nyberg, she was called. Having heard of her and seen some of her ads in the city, he had to check the section out.

The lean dark-skinned 32-year-old, sporting a well-groomed fade haircut, poured himself a glass of his favorite red wine and took a seat in his lofty office chair. The heavy rainfall poured against the massive windows of his penthouse, the loud sounding almost like drumming. The apartment offered a generous view of the city, its lights and neon signs illuminating some of the pitch-black midnight horizon.

“Let’s see, then…” Bruno thought to himself, pressing the power button of his computer.

The screen lit up and Bruno quickly surfed his way onto Vogue’s website, the white simplistic design along with the black logo lit up the dim room. The interview was on the frontpage, conveniently. “Fluff overload: Meet the furrier making waves in the fashion community,” the article heading read.

“Heh, big promises,” Bruno uttered, taking a sip out of his glass, twirling it and the wine swirling inside.

Click.

Displayed on Bruno’s bright screen was now a picture of a Nordic looking lady with platinum dyed hair in a shag cut. Her blue eyes were piercing, almost hypnotizing. For the photo she had chosen an all-black ensemble, consisting of a black sweater and a long leather skirt. Draped on her shoulders was a long black fox fur stole, flowing down and adding a touch of opulence to her outfit. Her lips were a bright shade of red and her nails were black and long. Her appearance dripped with elegance and sophistication.

“Meet Bianca Nyberg, the 46-year-old furrier from New Helsing. Known for her exquisite craftsmanship and eye for luxury, Bianca has made a name for herself in the world of high-end fashion. Her boutique, nestled in the heart of New Helsing's chic fashion district, is a haven for those seeking unique and meticulously crafted fur pieces,” the article read.

“Is that so? I’m not impressed just yet.” Bruno thought to himself, sipping the red wine.

“Bianca's journey into the world of fur began at a young age, influenced by her family's long-standing tradition in the trade. Over the years, she honed her skills, combining traditional techniques with contemporary designs.”

As Bruno scrolled through the article, a GIF of Bianca Nyberg played seamlessly, adding a dynamic element to the feature. Bianca gracefully lifts the luxurious black fox fur stole from her shoulders. With elegance, she brings the stole closer to the camera, its plush texture becoming more prominent with each frame. The soft fur envelops the lens, momentarily obscuring the view and creating an intimate, almost teasing experience.

“Bianca’s clientele includes a mix of local celebrities, fashion enthusiasts, and influential people who appreciate the artistry and timeless elegance of her creations. Beyond her boutique, she is also a vocal advocate for animal welfare, actively promoting and supporting sustainable fur practices within the industry. Bianca Nyberg is not just a designer; she is a visionary, continuously pushing the boundaries of fashion while maintaining a deep respect for tradition.”

“Ehh, whatever. Let’s see the line,” Bruno decided.

He scrolled down the long walls of text, looking for the photos of the new line. His eyes skimmed over the detailed descriptions and interviews, eager to catch a glimpse of Bianca Nyberg's latest creations. As he neared the end of the article, his anticipation grew. Finally, he reached the photo gallery showcasing the new line.

The first image was a stunning full-length finn raccoon fur coat in a deep emerald green, the plush material glistening under the studio lights. The model's elegant pose highlighted the coat's tailored fit and luxurious texture.

The next photo featured a sophisticated jacket with a modern twist—an asymmetrical cut and a mix of black leather and silver fox fur. The jacket exuded a contemporary edge while maintaining an air of classic refinement.

A series of images followed, displaying a variety of fur stoles in vibrant colors and unique patterns. One stole, in particular, stood out—a deep burgundy piece adorned with intricate golden highlighting on the fur, draped elegantly over the shoulders of the model.

In another striking shot, a model wore a sleek leather skirt with a fur hem, paired with a cozy fur-lined sweater. The combination of materials and textures created a harmonious and stylish ensemble.

The final photo was a group shot of models showcasing an array of accessories: fur hats, gloves, and handbags, each piece meticulously designed and crafted. The diversity in the collection was evident, with every item reflecting Bianca's signature blend of tradition and modernity.

Bruno would disagree, however. “Really? All this talk over this? Nothing new, nothing revolutionary, nothing special. These are like any other fur clothes. Not only that but fur is steadily going out of style,” Bruno thought as he leaned back in his chair with a visible expression of disapproval spread across his face.

He leaned back in, taking time to analyze every single piece with precision. “Ugh, so boring,” Bruno burst out loud in disgust, scanning the screen before him. He furrowed his brows, tapping his pen against the desk as he dissected the collection, unable to hide his disappointment. To him, the designs felt uninspired and lacked the innovation he had hoped for in the latest fashion trends.

Bruno quickly opened Word, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he prepared to voice his opinion on his popular blog. The familiar blank document seemed to invite his thoughts, and he started typing with a mixture of frustration and urgency.

Scrolling through Bianca Nyberg's new fur collection, I was struck by a profound sense of disappointment. Despite the considerable buzz, this collection fails to deliver anything remotely groundbreaking or noteworthy. Here’s a closer look at why this line falls short:

The first piece, a deep emerald Finn raccoon fur coat, is more about flashy materials than original design. The classic cut and color feel outdated.

The asymmetrical jacket with black leather and silver fox fur attempts a modern twist but ends up being a predictable blend of old and new with no real edge.

The fur stoles, including one deep burgundy with golden highlights, are meticulously crafted but fail to stand out. They feel like tired repeats rather than fresh ideas.

A model’s outfit featuring a leather skirt with a fur hem and a fur-lined sweater is similarly uninspired—just another safe, predictable mix of materials.

Finally, the accessories—fur hats, gloves, and handbags—are well-made but lack originality. The entire collection feels like an exercise in playing it safe rather than pushing any boundaries.

In summary, Nyberg’s new line is a disappointing showcase of missed opportunities. It fails to offer anything new or exciting in a rapidly evolving fashion world.

As soon as he had published the disheartening post, Bruno let out a deep sigh and closed his computer. He leaned back in his chair, the weight of his critique settling in. The quiet of the room enveloped him, offering a brief moment of reflection. The harshness of his words lingered in his mind, but he knew it was part of his role to be honest and critical. On top of that he had a reputation to uphold.

With a final glance at the still screen, Bruno shut off the light and headed to bed. The night ahead was filled with restless thoughts, but as he drifted into sleep, he hoped that his words, though stern, would serve as a catalyst for change and improvement in the fashion world.

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” The alarm clock screamed, pulling Bruno from his slumber. Groggily, he silenced the alarm and dragged himself out of bed. After a quick brush of his teeth, he shuffled into the kitchen, where he poured himself a strong cup of coffee.

As he sipped his coffee and glanced at his phone, he noticed an influx of notifications. With a sense of anticipation, he opened his blog and saw that his latest post had taken off. The comment section was buzzing with readers’ reactions, and the post had quickly gained traction across social media.

Bruno’s eyes widened as he saw the surge in traffic and engagement. His critique was sparking lively discussions, with readers both agreeing and disagreeing, and his blog was being shared widely. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of satisfaction and nervousness as he delved into the feedback, eager to see how his words were resonating with his audience.

As Bruno continued to review the flood of comments and social media interactions, he noticed his email inbox was similarly inundated. Amid the sea of messages, one sender stood out: Bianca Nyberg.

His heart raced as he clicked on the email from the renowned fashion designer. The subject line read, “Response to Your Review.” Bruno opened the email with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Subject: Response to Your Review

Dear Mr. Graham,

I’ve read your review of my latest collection with great interest. Your feedback, though candid and critical, is invaluable. I appreciate your honesty and the points you’ve raised about my designs. Constructive criticism is essential in our industry, and I’m taking your comments to heart.

I would like to invite you to dinner at my house for a deeper discussion on my work and future directions. Perhaps a face-to-face conversation could offer more insight into the creative process behind the collection and allow us to address your concerns directly.

Looking forward to your response.

Best regards, Bianca Nyberg

Bruno reread the email, absorbing the invitation and Bianca’s thoughtful tone. He felt a surge of excitement and nervousness, knowing this could be an opportunity to engage in a meaningful dialogue and perhaps gain a new perspective on the designer’s work.

He accepted.

Bruno arrived at Bianca Nyberg’s elegant home at the outskirts of New Helsing, a sense of anticipation mingling with his nerves. The evening air was crisp, and the soft glow of the setting sun bathed the city in a warm, golden light. He rang the doorbell and, after a moment, was greeted by Bianca herself.

“Welcome, Bruno,” she greeted with a gracious smile, dressed in a black sweater, skirt, and stole that mirrored the ensemble from the magazine photos. “I’m so glad you could make it. Please, come in.”

Her home was a testament to her refined taste, blending modern art with classic furnishings. Bruno admired the carefully curated pieces as he followed Bianca into the dining area. The room was elegantly set with a sleek black tablecloth, surrounded by high-backed chairs. A tasteful arrangement of fresh flowers served as the centerpiece, adding a vibrant touch to the sophisticated setting.

As they settled into their seats and Bianca’s maid Marie brought out their meals, the tone of their meeting took a serious turn. Bianca leaned forward slightly, her expression thoughtful but tinged with frustration.

“Bruno,” she began, her tone measured, “I want to thank you again for coming and for your candid feedback. I must admit, I was quite taken aback by your review. I respect your role as a critic, but I was hoping for a more nuanced understanding of my work.”

She took a sip of her wine, then continued, “I put a lot of effort into this collection, trying to balance tradition with innovation and address modern concerns. It’s disheartening to hear that it felt so uninspired to you. And honestly, I’d like you to consider the possibility of deleting that review.”

Bruno’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, feeling the weight of her request. “I understand where you’re coming from, Bianca,” he said carefully. “But my intention was and is to provide honest feedback.”

Bianca sighed, her expression growing more serious. “I appreciate your honesty, but the review is causing real damage to my reputation and my business. In the fashion industry, perceptions can be everything. Negative reviews can deter potential clients and partners, and the impact on my brand could be significant.”

Bruno met her gaze steadily, his resolve firm. “I understand the challenges you’re facing and the impact my review might have. However, my role as a critic is to provide honest assessments. It’s important for my readers and for the industry that I remain transparent and fair in my evaluations.”

Bianca leaned in, her tone becoming more suggestive. “I see where you’re coming from, Bruno. But you know, opinions can change, especially when given the right perspective. I’m sure there’s a lot more to explore in the world of fashion. Sometimes, it takes just a bit more time to fully appreciate the intricacies.”

With a light chuckle, Bianca stood up, her demeanor shifting to a playful and inviting tone. “But enough about business for now. How about I show you around? Just for fun. I’d love for you to see a bit more of what makes this place special.”

Bruno raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sure, I’d love to see more.”

Bianca took a firm hold of his hand, guiding him with a sense of enthusiasm as she led him through her lavish estate. The warmth of her grip and the confident way she moved added a personal touch to the tour, making Bruno feel welcomed and curious about the spaces they were about to explore.

They walked through a grand hallway first, the same one she had led Denis down some time ago, lined with elegantly framed paintings. Bianca paused at each portrait, explaining the significance of her family lineage. This is my great-grandmother," she said, pointing to a striking portrait. "She was a pioneer in her own right, and I like to think some of her creativity lives on in my work."

She picked up her fur stole and adjusted it on her shoulders, the luxurious hairs catching the light. She moved closer to Bruno, her eyes locking onto his with a new intensity. "You know, Bruno," she said softly, letting the stole brush against his cheek, "there's so much more to fashion than just what meets the eye. Sometimes, it’s about how it makes you feel."

The caress of the fur against his skin sent a shiver down Bruno's spine. He felt the unspoken tension in the air, a mix of seduction and subtle persuasion. Bianca's attempt to sway him was clear, but he remained composed, aware of the complexities of their interaction.

"Fashion is indeed powerful," Bruno replied, his voice steady. "It can evoke strong emotions and create lasting impressions."

Bianca smiled, her eyes still locked on his. "Exactly. And I hope, in time, you'll come to see my work in a new light."

As the tour continued, Bianca led Bruno upstairs, their steps echoing softly through the elegant hallways. The walls were adorned with more portraits and tasteful art pieces, each carefully selected to complement the overall aesthetic of the estate. The air seemed to grow thicker with a mix of anticipation and curiosity as they approached a set of double doors. With a slight pause, Bianca turned to Bruno, a subtle smile playing on her lips. She pushed open the doors, revealing a spacious and exquisitely decorated bedroom, once the chamber of torment for one Denis Marsalis.

The room featured plush velvet furnishings that exuded comfort and elegance. Delicate lace curtains draped gracefully around the large windows, allowing soft, filtered light to seep into the room. Dominating the space was a king-sized bed, lavishly dressed in fur sheets and adorned with an array of fluffy pillows, promising an indulgent retreat.

The most striking feature, however, was the walls, which were entirely covered in rich wine-red fur. This unconventional choice created an atmosphere of opulent extravagance, enveloping the room in a warm, tactile embrace. The fur's soft, velvety texture not only added a unique visual appeal but also invited a sense of touch, making the space feel both sumptuous and inviting.

“Wow, that wall sure looks sensual…” Bruno uttered, his voice tinged with awe and curiosity. The unexpected richness of the fur-covered walls had captivated him, drawing his attention more than any other detail in the room

“I’m a very sensual person, Bruno…” Bianca said, closing in next to his ear. “Now that we’re here, I’d like to confess something. I like you, Bruno. Remember what I said about how fashion makes you feel? I meant that literally… and I’d like to explore… with you,” Bianca said, brushing the stole against his hot red cheek.

Bruno gulped, but he couldn’t deny the allure Bianca had on him. Her presence, the room's opulent setting, and the intimate atmosphere she had crafted all combined to pull him into her world, making it nearly impossible to resist her bold invitation.

As he stared into Bianca’s piercing blue eyes, he felt himself being drawn in further. She stepped closer, her heels clicking loudly with each step. Bianca began to guide him towards the fur-covered wall. Her touch was firm yet gentle, sliding from his chest down to his wrists. With a subtle but commanding grace, she lifted his hands, pressing them against the plush, velvety fur, then…

Click.

Bruno’s hands were firmly secured in place by hidden shackles on the wall. He looked up in surprise, the initial shock of the metallic snap giving way to a mix of confusion and realization. “What?!”

Bianca’s smile widened as she let out a low, soft giggle. Her eyes danced with mischief and anticipation as she reached into a nearby nightdrawer and retrieved a pair of scissors. With a practiced hand, she began to cut away his clothes, her movements precise and controlled. The sound of the fabric ripping and the feel of the cool metal against his skin added to the intense atmosphere of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing? This suit cost 4,000 dollars! Let me go!” Bruno yelled out, enraged by his unexpected predicament.

Bianca paused for a moment, looking up at him with a calm, almost amused expression. "Oh, Bruno," she said softly, continuing to cut away at his suit. "Consider it a small price to pay for a new perspective." The fabric continued to fall away, piece by piece, as she worked with a quiet, determined focus.

“A new perspective?! What on Earth are you talking about?!” Bruno questioned, his voice a mix of anger and confusion.

Bianca looked up again, her eyes locking onto his with an intense, almost hypnotic gaze. "Sometimes," she began, her voice smooth and controlled, "you need to break away from the norm to truly understand something. To appreciate the texture, the experience, the sensation." She continued cutting, the scissors moving effortlessly through the fabric. “And sensations are exactly the topic which I’m going to educate you on, Bruno…”

Bianca cut every inch of Bruno’s designer suit off and tossed it aside, leaving him completely exposed. Bruno felt the cold breeze on his skin, sending a shiver through his body, and the plush fur of the wall caressed his back, its soft texture a stark contrast to the intensity of the situation.

Bianca adjusted the fur stole, draping it elegantly over her shoulders like a loose scarf. Slowly, she turned her gaze back to Bruno, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of dominance and curiosity. She began to walk towards him, her heels clicking menacingly with each step, the sound echoing through the room like a countdown.

As she got closer, she raised her hands, her fingers wiggling as if ready to touch him. The air between them crackled with tension, a palpable mix of power and vulnerability. Bruno’s heart raced, his mind struggling to process the surreal intensity of the moment.

And then, when her nails finally met the exposed skin on his sides, a sharp sensation shot through him. Bianca's touch was both electrifying and unnerving, her nails tracing slow, deliberate lines along his ribs. Bruno’s fate was sealed. He was no longer just a critic observing from the outside—he was now completely entangled in her world: a world of tickle torture.

“WHAHAHAHAHAT AHAHAHAHARE YOU DOIHIHIHIHIHIHNG?” Bruno exclaimed, his voice breaking into uncontrollable laughter, completely taken aback by the unexpected attack.

“Tickling you. Isn’t it obvious, Bruno?” Bianca replied with a sly smile, her fingers dancing across his skin with precision. “I told you I like to explore… and I think you’re going to learn to appreciate my work as well.”

Bruno twitched and squirmed in his binds, his body instinctively trying to escape the relentless tickling. Each movement made the soft fur on the wall brush against his back, heightening the sensation and adding another layer of stimulation.

“HNNGH, FORGEHEHEHEHEHET IT! YOU’REHEHEHEHEHE DOHOHOHONE!” he managed to shout between gasps of laughter, his voice a mix of defiance and desperation. But his protests only seemed to encourage Bianca, who continued her playful assault with a mischievous grin.

“You’ll find that I can be quite persuasive, Bruno…” Bianca purred, her voice dripping with a mix of seduction and control. She stepped in closer, the soft fur stole pressing against his chest. Her nails continued their slow, torturous journey, traversing down to his twitching hips, each touch sending jolts of electricity through his body. “I’m quite the tickler, sweetheart.”

Bruno’s laughter became uncontrollable, his body betraying him as it quivered under her touch. The combination of her seductive tone and the relentless tickling was overwhelming, breaking down his defenses with each passing second. His mind raced, but his body was lost in the sensation, every nerve alight with the duality of pleasure and torment. Bianca’s grin widened as she watched him struggle, knowing she had him completely under her control.

“Tickle, tickle~”

Those words. Those damn words. Those words, spoken so sweetly, echoed in Bruno’s mind, amplifying his helplessness. Each syllable seemed to intensify the sensation, as if Bianca’s voice itself was a tool of torment.

“You have no idea how much I like tickling… how much I like tickling you, Bruno.” Bianca’s voice was honeyed, dripping with amusement and something darker. “I see you trying to make sense of it all, but you can’t, can you? You’re confused, perplexed…” She leaned in even closer, her breath warm against his ear, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill through him. “And scared…”

Bruno’s breath came in ragged gasps, his laughter finally tapering off into exhausted panting. The intensity of her touch and the weight of her words had left him disoriented.

“But don’t you worry. I will take such good care of you, Coochie coochie coo,” she said softly, planting a kiss on his cheek before stepping away. The warmth of her kiss contrasted sharply with the coldness of his situation. She moved toward her closet, her heels clicking against the floor with every step.

“Now…” Bianca began, reaching for something inside the closet. She pulled out the deep emerald green finn raccoon fur coat. “Remember this? Remember what you said? ‘The first piece, a deep emerald Finn raccoon fur coat, is more about flashy materials than original design. The classic cut and color feel outdated.’ Hmpf.” Bianca mimicked in a mocking masculine tone, whilst rolling her eyes.

“I pant stand pant by pant what pant I said,” Bruno replied, his voice shaky as he struggled to maintain composure. The coat's opulence seemed almost to taunt him now, its richness a stark contrast to his current predicament.

Bianca threw her black stole onto the bed and reached into the closet once more. This time, she pulled out the burgundy fur stole with golden highlights, her movements deliberate and theatrical. “Remember this?” she said, draping the stole over her shoulders, layering it atop the deep emerald green coat. “You said: ‘The fur stoles, including one deep burgundy with golden highlights, are meticulously crafted but fail to stand out. They feel like tired repeats rather than fresh ideas.’ Blah blah blah.”

With a slow, deliberate grace, she walked back towards Bruno. The sight of her, adorned in the lush green coat and the vibrant reddish stole, gave her an almost mythical presence. She looked like a glamorous, fluffy, tickle-torturing version of Poison Ivy, her elegant attire contrasted sharply with the intense situation.

The rich textures of her outfit seemed to amplify the tension in the room, creating an almost surreal atmosphere as she approached Bruno, who was now visibly sweating and nervous, his earlier bravado completely gone.

Bianca’s movement was menacing yet elegant as she stopped abruptly at her bed. She knelt down and reached beneath it, pulling out two boxes with an air of anticipation. The soft rustle of the boxes being dragged out created a subtle yet charged sound, adding to the heightened atmosphere in the room.

One box was plain and unadorned, its simplicity a stark contrast to the other. The second box, however, was ornate, its surface richly adorned with intricate patterns and delicate filigree: The Fluff Box. The contrast between the two boxes hinted at the possibility of something both intriguing and mysterious awaiting inside.

Bianca picked up the two boxes and set them beside Bruno with a measured movement. The plain box landed with a soft thud, while the ornate box made a more pronounced sound as it settled onto the floor. She stood up, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and authority as she glanced at Bruno.

She opened the ornate box. “Now, Bruno,” she said with a teasing smile, “let’s see which one you find more... appealing.”

Bruno’s eyes widened with curiosity and a hint of anxiety as Bianca’s hand reached into the box. She lifted up a large, luxurious powder brush with a handle adorned in intricate patterns. The bristles were soft and fluffy, casting a gentle sheen in the room’s light. Alongside it, she pulled out a bundle of feathers attached to an ornate stick, which resembled an exaggerated feather tickler toy.

“I wonder which one you would like to be tickled with…” She twirled the powder brush lightly, letting its bristles sway in the air, and then waved the bundle of feathers playfully.

Bruno’s eyes flickered between the two, his breathing quickening as he felt the tension rise. “T-the brush,” he stammered, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in his voice.

“Alright,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a playful edge. “But don’t think for a second you’re exempt from the other one, my ticklish little critic…”

With a teasing smirk, she set the feather bundle aside. The bristles felt almost too soft to be real as she gently brushed it against her palm, letting the anticipation build. Bruno’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he watched her movements.

“What’s in the other box?” Bruno asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

Bianca’s eyes gleamed with playful mystery as she replied, “You’ll find out soon enough.” She then shifted her focus back to the powder brush, her tone taking on a blend of menace and indulgent affection. “Ready for your brush tickling?”

As she stepped closer, Bruno’s heart pounded in his chest. The bristles of the brush hovered just above his skin, their soft promise mingling with the room's charged atmosphere. Bianca leaned in, lifting the brush slowly and inching it towards his right wrist. Her head was just by his ear, and she blew gently, sending tingles down his spine. The fur of the coat and stole brushed against his chest, while the plush fur on the wall caressed his back. He was squished in between a fluffy cocoon of furs.

Her lips brushed against his ear, sending a bolt of anticipation through him. “Tickle, tickle, Bruno…” she whispered softly.

The brush began its delicate descent from his wrist down his arm, the bristles soft yet tantalizingly ticklish against his skin. Bruno could barely focus on the sensation before Bianca's left hand moved with swift precision, her nails striking into his armpit. The contrast between the gentle brushing and the sudden, sharp tickling sent a signal of ticklish alert to his brain.

“OH GAHAHAHAHAHAD!” Bruno cried out, his voice cracking between fits of uncontrollable laughter. He couldn’t help himself; the sensation was too intense, too overwhelming. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire as Bianca’s relentless tickling pushed him to his limits.

“You’re so sensitive, Bruno,” Bianca purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she watched him squirm helplessly against the plush fur and her ticklish ministrations. “Do you like being tickled?”

The soft brush traveled down his arms, over his chest, and back up his other arm, each stroke sending a new wave of tingling sensations through his body. Bruno’s laughter echoed through the room, his voice broken and breathless as he tried in vain to resist the overwhelming ticklishness.

“I like tickling you, Bruno. I like how you squirm and laugh and you can’t resist, can you? No matter how much you want to.” Her nails lightly trailed down his side, just enough to keep him on edge.

Bianca let out a sultry giggle as she brought the big brush to Bruno’s face. With a teasing flick, she brushed it lightly against his nose, causing it to twitch involuntarily. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she traced the bristles along his jawline, the tickling sensation making him squirm even more.

Bruno’s laughter was uncontrollable, his head twisting in a futile attempt to escape the relentless tickling. The brush then moved to his ears, the soft bristles grazing the sensitive skin on each side, driving him wild with the ticklish torment.

“Does my big fluffy brush tickle?” Bianca cooed. “I love how you laugh for me. It tells me just how much it tickles. You don’t have to say a word.” She moved the brush down his neck and twirled the brush lightly over his nipples, before trailing down. “I know it tickles…”

When the brush began to traverse down his right side, Bruno’s anticipation grew. He tensed as it stopped just above his exposed manhood, his breath catching in his throat. But before he could brace himself, Bianca’s nails struck his left side, eliciting another burst of uncontrollable laughter.

Then Bianca knelt down, her eyes glinting with mischief as she brushed lightly around his most sensitive area, her touch deliberate and teasing. The delicate bristles barely grazed his skin, yet the sensation was enough to send shockwaves of ticklish torment through his entire body, leaving him utterly at her mercy.

Bianca’s voice was a sultry murmur, filled with a mix of dominance and satisfaction. “It must be agony,” she continued, her tone smooth and seductive. She gently circled the fluffy brush around his sensitive area, her movements precise and teasing. “The never-ending intense tingling sensation all over your body. The way your vulnerable spots are exploited like this. The way you’re forced to laugh until your lungs ache.”

She watched him with a smirk as he writhed under her touch, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and control. “The overwhelming, tantalizing tickle torture…” she purred, each word emphasizing the cruel pleasure she derived from his helplessness.

Bruno’s cock began to twitch slightly in response to the ticklish brushing. Bianca noticed the slight twitch in Bruno’s crotch, her smirk widening as she continued her tantalizing torture. “Yet, I find that you’re enjoying this more than you let on,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Typical.”

Bianca rose gracefully from her position, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and anticipation. She walked back over to The Fluff Box, where she picked up the large feather tickler she had set aside earlier. The feathered bundle, now even more tantalizing in the context of the ongoing play, promised a new layer of sensation.

She turned back towards Bruno with a sly smile, the feather tickler held confidently in her hand. “Now that we’ve explored the brush, let’s see how you handle this,” she said, her voice tinged with playful menace. The feathers fluttered gently as she moved, casting a light, teasing shadow across his exposed body.

With deliberate slowness, Bianca approached him, the feather tickler poised to add a fresh dimension to his ticklish ordeal. She gently caressed his cheek, her touch soft and teasing. As she leaned in, her fingers tickled lightly under his chin, sending delicate, tantalizing sensations across his skin.

Whispering in his ear, her voice a velvety mix of seduction and control, she murmured, “It’s going to tickle. The feathers softly dragging on you, leaving tingly whispers of tickling on your skin.” The gentle promise of the feather tickler was almost as torturous as the anticipation itself. She positioned the tickler near his exposed skin, the delicate feathers poised to begin their torment.

“N-no… please…” Bruno whimpered, pleading her not to torture him again.

“Aww,” Bianca cooed, before caressing his cheek again. She moved from his side to a position in front of him. “I’m sorry but…”

Bruno stared deeply into Bianca’s piercing blue eyes.

“I’m going to tickle you.”

The feather tickler made its first contact, brushing gently against his inner thighs, and the sensation was immediate. The soft, teasing feathers danced along his sensitive skin, forcing him to laugh and moan in his fluffy binding. Each light touch of the feathers against his inner thighs ignited a fresh wave of ticklish torment, making him writhe and squirm against the fur wall.

Bianca’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she observed his reactions. She gently moved the tickler up and down his inner thighs, varying the pressure and speed to keep him on edge. Bruno’s cock began to react quickly, rising into a full erection before long.

Bianca lifted the tickler, allowing it to rest between her thumb and index finger as she shifted her attention to his armpits. Her fingers danced with masterful precision, scribbling her nails in the sensitive hollows. The sudden shift from the soft, teasing feathers to the sharp, intense tickling of her nails created a jarring contrast, amplifying the torment.

Bruno’s laughter erupted into desperate, uncontrollable guffaws, the combination of the sharp tickling and the lingering sensation from the feathers leaving him overwhelmed. He much preferred the soft, teasing and gentle tickling of the feather tickler to her scribbling.

“Do you want the feathers back?” Bianca asked, having knowingly lifted the feathers from his manhood to tease him and leave him craving for the more bearable form of tickle torture.

“YEHEHEHEHES! PLEAHAHAHAHASE!” He begged in between his ticklish laughter.

“Then say it. Say you want me to tickle you with my feathers,” Bianca demanded, her eyes squinting in mischief.

“PLEAHAHAHAHASE! TICKLE ME WITH YOUR FEATHEHEHEHEHERS!” Bruno cried out, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep his composure amidst the relentless tickling. His laughter was a desperate plea, a mix of embarrassment and relief as he eagerly awaited the return of the gentler form of torment.

“Aww, of course, tickle boy,” Bianca’s smirk widened, clearly pleased with his submission. She let the feathers descend back to his sensitive skin, their soft touch meeting his needy twitching manhood, resuming the teasing strokes that made him laugh and moan uncontrollably.

The feathers fluttered up and down his shaft, tickling his sensitive skin. Bianca momentarily paused at his tip, giving him a quick flurry of feathery tickles. Her spidering nails met his quivering stomach, forcing the balance of laughter and moaning to tip in favor of helpless giggling.

Pre-cum oozed from his throbbing penis, as Bianca began to twirl the feather tickler on his balls and reaching for under, tickling his taint. He jolted as the soft feathers met the sensitive skin behind his balls. Bianca giggled in response, making sure to properly tickle him and providing long, teasing, ticklish strokes.

Bianca took a moment to relish Bruno’s relieved laughter before gracefully moving towards the plain box. Her heels clicked softly on the floor as she approached, creating a stark contrast to the earlier chaos.

With calmness, she lifted the lid, revealing the contents inside. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of anticipation and satisfaction as she glanced back at Bruno, whose curiosity and exhaustion were palpable. She lifted up a massive fur mitten and placed it on her right hand. “Remember? ‘Finally, the accessories—fur hats, gloves, and handbags—are well-made but lack originality. The entire collection feels like an exercise in playing it safe rather than pushing any boundaries.’ Remember?”

Bruno’s pleas reached her ears, a mix of desperation and desire in his voice. “I-I-I’m sorry. Please let me cum…”

Bianca’s smirk softened into a more contemplative expression. “You know, I think you might have learned something today. But I’m not quite done yet.” She positioned the fur mitten near his sensitive areas, her movements deliberate and slow.

The fur mitten hovered near his sensitive areas, its soft texture promising a new kind of soft sensation. Bianca gently grabbed his cock into the fluffy embrace of her fur mitten. The soft fox fur enveloped his throbbing manhood, covering it in a warm, comforting and pleasurable cocoon. Gently she began to flick her wrist, caressing the fur up and down his sensitive privates.

Bruno began to moan, the fur feeling so good after the tickle torturing of his life. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, as Bianca’s fluffy hand stroked him. He felt the fur caress back and forth. Every single hair, every single strand of fur trailed on his sensitive skin, tickling him ever so slightly yet pleasurably.

As Bruno began to savor the soft, luxurious sensation of the fur job, his body tensed in anticipation of what was to come next. The gentle tickling was soothing in its own way, but suddenly, he felt a new wave of sensations.

Bianca’s fingers began their intricate dance, spidering lightly across his armpits. The touch was both delicate and insistent, creating a contrast with the fur mitten’s plush caress. Her fingers moved methodically, tracing a path down his sides and to his hips, before climbing back up his torso.

Bianca’s tone was firm but laced with a lingering trace of amusement as she spoke. “I said I’m not done yet,” she stated, her eyes gleaming with a mix of authority and playful intent.

As her fingers resumed their intricate dance, traversing from his armpits to his sides and hips, the tickling became a complex interplay of sensations. The fur mitten’s caress complemented her skilled fingers, creating a relentless and tantalizing experience for Bruno. His laughter, now a mix of desperation and reluctant enjoyment, filled the room as he struggled against his bonds.

Bianca’s eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and authority. “Repeat after me and I’ll let you cum,” she bargained, her tone a mix of seduction and control. She leaned closer, her breath warm against Bruno’s ear as she prepared to make her demands. “I love getting tickled by you, Ms. Nyberg.”

With a strained voice, he finally gasped, “I LOVEHEHEHE GEHEHETTING TICKLEHEHEHED BY YOU, MS. NYBEHEHEHEHERG!”

“Am I the meanest and sexiest tickler you’ll ever have, Mr. Graham?” she asked, her tone both commanding and playful.

Bruno, breathless and overwhelmed, finally managed to gasp out, “Y-YES, MS. NYBERG! YOU’RE THE MEANEHEHEHEHEST AND SEXIEST TICKLER I’VE EVER HAHAHAHAHAD!”

“Is my tickling intense and addictive, leaving you begging for more?” she asked, her tone both commanding and seductive.

Bruno, still gasping for breath, managed to shout out in all caps, “YES! YOUR TICKLING IS INTENSE AND ADDICTIVE! I CAN’T GET ENOUGH!”

“Am I the best furrier? Are my furs the most elegant and the softest? Will you remove your review and write a follow-up praising me?” she asked, her tone leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

Bruno, caught in the whirlwind of ticklish torment and fluffy pleasure, could only respond in a breathless plea, “YES! YOU’RE THE BEST FURRIER! YOUR FURS ARE THE MOST ELEGANT AND SOFTEST! I’LL REMOVE MY REVIEW AND WRITE A FOLLOW-UP PRAISING YOU!”

Bianca’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she heard Bruno’s plea. She paused her tickling, allowing him to catch his breath, continuing to gently stroke him with the massive fur mitten, a soothing contrast to the earlier intense sensations.

With a soft, triumphant smile, she leaned in close, her voice a whisper filled with both dominance and affection. “Good boy. I’m glad you’ve come to appreciate the art of tickling and the elegance of my furs.”

Bruno began to feel his orgasm building up as Bianca flicked her wrist slightly faster now, pleasuring him increasingly. She began to blow gently into his ears, adding another teasy pleasurable sensation to his fur job. Bruno scrunched his neck in response.

Bianca smiled warmly as she continued her gentle strokes. “I really liked tickling you, Mr. Graham. I’ve teased lots of ticklish guys, but you’re one of the most memorable. Your laughter was music to my ears.” She kissed his cheek. “And you liked being tickled by me, didn’t you?”

Bruno looked down and moaned, as he watched Bianca work her fluffy magic on his throbbing manhood. He nodded in response to Bianca’s teasy words. Bruno took all the pleasure in, watching the mitten glide up and down, up and down. He couldn’t even see his manhood. It was lost in a sea of maddeningly pleasurable fur.

“You know, I’m still kind of tickling you while I’m doing this, Bruno,” Bianca giggled, her eyes dancing with seduction. She let her fingers lightly graze his sensitive spots once more, adding a touch of teasing to her words. “Tickle, tickle.” She observed as his breathy moans quickened, a clear sign of the effect her playful touch had on him. “And the fur?” she continued, her voice soft and teasing. “Isn’t it a bit ticklish too?”

Bruno nodded, his eyes rolling back as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. The combined teases and tickle talk from Bianca and the soft brush of the fur against his manhood was almost too much to handle. Each touch, each whisper of the fur, seemed to intensify his experience, leaving him in a state of helpless ecstasy.

“Cum for me… Cum for your tickling fur goddess, Bruno…” Bianca urged, sensing the critic's orgasm was close.

And so Bruno let himself be taken over by an explosive ticklegasm. His back arched in response, as his entire nervous system tingled like fire and his muscles spasmed in pure pleasurable ecstasy. Streaks of hot sperm shot out of his throbbing red cock and he screamed as his entire body joined together in a harmony of pleasure.

Bianca stroked his hair gently, her touch soft and soothing after the intense ordeal. As Bruno panted heavily, his head hung low in exhaustion, she offered him a tender smile. Her fingers ran through his hair with a caring rhythm, a contrast to the earlier playful torment.

“You did so well, Bruno,” she murmured softly, her voice a blend of satisfaction and genuine care. “I’m glad we understand each other now.” Bianca turned to the door. “I sincerely hope you keep up your promise, because if you don’t.”

She turned back.

“I’ll personally make sure you’re tickled and tortured until passing out. Then you’ll be tickled again. And again. And again…”

#fur coat #women in fur #fur stole #fox fur #fur #tickle content #tickle fic #tickletorture #tickle tickle #f/m tickling #tickling #tickle scenarios #furfetish

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wildmendergame · 2 years ago

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How we created the ideal water system for Wildmender

Over the last 4 years of work, we've created a gardening survival game in a desert world that let people create massive and complex oasis where each plant is alive. At the heart of a system-driven, procedurally generated ecology is a water simulation and terraforming system, and this post is to share a bit of how we built it.

We knew early on that the game would include some level of soil and water simulation, just as an outgrowth of wanting to simulate an ecosystem. The early builds used a simple set of flags for soil, which plants could respond to or modify, and had water present only as static objects. Each tile of soil (a 1x1 “meter” square of the game world) could be rock or sand, and have a certain level of fertility or toxicity. Establishing this early put limits on how much we could scale the world, since we knew we needed to store a certain amount of data for each tile.

Since the terrain was already being procedurally generated, letting players shape it to customize their garden was a pretty natural thing to add. The water simulation was added at first in response to this - flat, static bodies of water could easily create very strange results if we let the player dig terrain out from under them. Another neat benefit of this simulation was that it made water a fixed-sum resource - anything the player took out of the ground for their own use wasn’t available for plants, and vice versa. This really resonated well with the whole concept of desert survival and water as a critical resource.

The water simulation at its core is a grid-based solution. Tiles with a higher water level spread it to adjacent tiles in discrete steps. We broke the world up into “simulation cells” (of 32 by 32 tiles each) which let us break things like the water simulation into smaller chunks that we could compute in the background without interrupting the player. The amount of water in each tile is then combined with the height of the underlying terrain to create a water mesh for each simulation cell. Later on, this same simulation cell concept helped us with various optimizations - we could turn off all the water calculations and extra data on cells that didn’t have any water, which is most of the world.

Early on, we were mostly concerned with just communicating what was happening with simple blocks of color - but once the basic simulation worked, we needed to decide how the water should look for the final game. Given the stylized look we were building for the rest of the game, we decided the water should be similarly stylized - the blue-and-white colors made this critical resource stand out to the player more than a more muted, natural, transparent appearance did. White “foam” was added to create clear edges for any body of water (through a combination of screen depth, height above the terrain, and noise.)

We tweaked the water rendering repeatedly over the rest of the project, adding features to the simulation and a custom water shader that relied on data the simulation provided. Flowing water was indicated with animated textures based on the height difference, using a texturing technique called flowmaps. Different colors would indicate clean or toxic water. Purely aesthetic touches like cleaning up the edges of bodies of water, smooth animation of the water mesh, and GPU tessellation on high-end machines got added over time, as well.

The “simulation cell” concept also came into play as we built up the idea of biome transformations. Under the hood, living plants contribute “biomass” to nearby cells, while other factors like wind erosion remove biomass - but if enough accumulates, the cell changes to a new biome, which typically makes survival easier for both plants and players. This system provided a good, organic feel, and it fulfilled one of our main goals of making the player’s home garden an inherently safe and sheltered place - but the way it worked was pretty opaque to players. Various tricks of terrain texturing helped address this, showing changes around plants that were creating a biome transition before that transition actually happened.

As we fleshed out the rest of the game, we started adding new ways to interact with the system we already had. The spade and its upgrades had existed from fairly early, but playtesting revealed a big demand for tools that would help shape the garden at a larger scale. The Earthwright’s Chisel, which allowed the players to manipulate terrain on a larger scale such as digging an entire trench at once, attempted to do this in a way that was both powerful and imprecise, so it didn’t completely overshadow the spade.

We also extended the original biome system with the concept of Mothers and distinct habitats. Mothers gave players more direct control over how their garden developed, in a way that was visibly transformative and rewarding. Giving the ability to create Mothers as a reward for each temple tied back into our basic exploration and growth loops. And while the “advanced” biomes are still generally all better than the base desert, specializing plants to prefer their specific habitats made choosing which biome to create a more meaningful choice.

Water feeds plants, which produce biomass, which changes the biome to something more habitable that loses less water. Plants create shade and block wind-borne threats, which lets other plants thrive more easily. But if those plants become unhealthy or are killed, biomass drops and the whole biome can regress back to desert - and since desert is less habitable for plants, it tends to stay that way unless the player acts to fix it somehow. The whole simulation is “sticky” in important ways - it reinforces its own state, positive or negative. This both makes the garden a source of safety to the player, and allows us to threaten it - with storms, wraiths, or other disasters - in a way that demands players take action.

#indie games #wildmender #gaming #gardening #devblog

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cleverhottubmiracle · 7 days ago

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32 Rianne Van Rompaey Is Stepping Back From Modeling! This just in: beloved model Rianne Van Rompaey is taking a break from her modeling career. The young star took to Instagram to share the news, citing a need to pursue other interests and passions. First beginning modeling in 2014, Van Rompaey became one of the most recognizable in the industry. Today, she’s fronted brands like Louis Vuitton, Chloé, Tom Ford, Mango, and more, in addition to having countless editorials and runways—including the 2024 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show—under her belt. We hope this isn’t goodbye! “I have many dreams and passions outside of fashion, many sides of my personality that took a backseat because this career was my biggest priority,” Von Rompaey recalls in her post’s sweet Instagram caption. “Adhering to my guess of other people’s idea of model Rianne Van Rompaey (still following?) was of utmost importance to me, because the expectations were so high, and I was payed so much to be perfect. I wanted everybody to love me. Somehow, something in me changed over the years (old age?). I don’t want to try to be perfect anymore. I want to be gross. I want to roll on the ground in a basement in NY trying to make people laugh. I want to dress weird, cut my hair off, make mistakes and not feel like the whole industry is watching. I want my body to truly be mine again, break free from my own judgement. I love this industry so much. I love the people I work with so much. And I know I will see all of you again. Hopefully not in like 2 months, that would be awkward. But life is short and it’s time for new adventures. Adios amigos! See you on the big screen!” Rianne van Rompaey Rianne van Rompaey Could Louis Vuitton Möet Hennessy Split With DFS!? Louis Vuitton Möet Hennessy (LVMH) may actually part ways with DFS, its struggling duty-free retail arm, after years of losses and a failed sale attempt nearly a decade ago, according to Lauren Sherman’s Line Sheet column for Puck. Speculation surged when CEO Bernard Arnault didn’t deny rumors of a potential sale, signaling that LVMH may be ready to exit a business hit hard by the collapse of international travel. Despite hopes for a post-pandemic rebound, DFS remains deep in the red, losing up to €200 million in 2024, according to La Lettre. Meanwhile, LVMH is doubling down on its Parisian luxury footprint, having taken over DFS’s stake in the iconic La Samaritaine department store. The area, anchored by Louis Vuitton’s headquarters and the glamorous Cheval Blanc hotel, reflects LVMH’s push into premium experiential retail. Should DFS hit the market, it’s likely to attract interest from duty-free specialists ready to revive the brand. Louis Vuitton Men Spring 2025 Victoria’s Secret Is Launching A Sexy New Collab With Altuzarra! Time to take flight! Victoria’s Secret just announced its new Spring 2025 collaboration with Altuzarra, Atelier Victoria’s Secret x Altuzarra. The limited-edition collection, led by Joseph Altuzarra, features new ready-to-wear styled exuding sophisticated sexiness and femininity. The line’s key pieces include its new slip dress, three-piece knit set, and a crystal-encrusted bra with a matching satin coat, which is complemented by VS’ latest coordinating Very Sexy lingerie line. Fronting the collab’s new campaign is an all-star cast, which includes Imaan Hammam, Devyn Garcia, Paula Soares, and Blésnya Minher. Chic! The brand’s Altuzarra collab first debuted on the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show‘s runway last fall, and will drop on VictoriasSecret.com on February 20. XOXO! We Have A Date For Michael Rider’s First Celine Show! Finally! Michael Rider will debut his first Celine collection on July 6, according to Hero. The news broke this morning, marking the first progress we’ve heard of Rider’s Celine tenure since he took over the brand from former creative director Hedi Slimane in October. No word on the show’s inspo or looks yet, though Rider’s date choice is an interesting one! His Celine debut marks the latest instance of brands showing off-calendar from Fashion Month—a move that’s been embraced by labels including Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, Bronx and Banco, Selkie, and more. Michael Rider (Courtesy of Celine) Cosmopolitan Takes Over The New York Stock Exchange! Ring, ring! Cosmopolitan’s staff took the NYSE by storm on Wednesday, celebrating the publication going public on the stock market by ringing its signature bell. Looks like Carrie Bradshaw isn’t the only fab New York writer to get the honor! New EIC Willa Bennett took to the stand for the occasion, joined by plenty of our fave Cosmo girls and guys—including Megan Uy, Beth Gillette, Jasmine Hyman, Brandon Tan, Samantha Olson, and more. Plus, the moment was followed by Bennett’s guest bartender gig on WWHL! Now, we’re just wondering: did they find any men in finance, trust fund, 6’5, blue eyes? Megan Uy, Jasmine Heyman, Brandon Tan, Annabel Iwegbue, Beth Gillette, Willa Bennett (Courtesy of Cosmopolitan) The Cinema & Disney Unite For Captain America: Brave New World Screening Disney and The Cinema Society, alongside Martini & Rossi, hosted a star-studded evening, kicking off with the screening of Captain America: Brave New World at IPIC, followed by an after-party at The Fulton by Jean-Georges. The latest Marvel installment follows Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) as he takes up the iconic shield, facing new enemies and testing what it truly means to be Captain America in a world full of shifting alliances. Leading the celebration were the film’s stars Anthony Mackie, Danny Ramirez, and Shira Haas, alongside director Julius Onah. The night wrapped with an afterparty at The Fulton by Jean-Georges, where guests including Clark Gregg, Lena Hall, Jeremy O. Harris, Chris Kattan, and Cynthia Rowley toasted the film’s debut with cocktails by Martini & Rossi, while enjoying breathtaking waterfront views. Anthony Mackie, Shira Haas, Daniel Ramirez, Julius Onah All images: David Benthal/BFA.com W Magazine Unveils Its Star-Studded Directors Issue With Mikey Madison, Hoyeon, & More! Get ready for a sugar rush! W magazine has unveiled its Directors Issue cover, featuring rising stars Mikey Madison and Hoyeon in a delicious chaotic doughnut heist, captured through the lens of cinematographer Alexis Zabé. Directed by Anora filmmaker Sean Baker, the duo’s spread blends Western grit with humor as they turn Burbank’s retro Donut Hut upside down, outfitted in looks by Miu Miu, Louis Vuitton, JW Anderson, Prada, and Chanel, styled by Allia Alliata di Montereale. For a closer look inside the sprinkle-filled mix of couture and comedy, head to WMag,com—where you can discover additional covers starring Ayo Edibiri and Timothée Chalamet. Mikey Madison, Hoyeon (Alexis Zabé) The Cinema Society Screens The Chosen: Last Supper At Crosby Street Hotel! New York City’s Crosby Street Hotel set the stage for an unforgettable special screening of The Chosen: Last Supper, the latest installment from the acclaimed faith-based series, hosted by The Cinema Society! The screening brought together the show’s dynamic duo, Director, Creator, and Executive Producer Dallas Jenkins, alongside series star Jonathan Roumie, known for his powerful portrayal of Jesus.The Chosen: Last Supper offers an intimate look at one of the most powerful moments in scripture,the final meal Jesus shares with His disciples before His crucifixion,bringing themes of love, sacrifice, and faith to the forefront. The room buzzed with industry elites, while photographer Annie Leibovitz co-hosted the evening. A-list attendees included actress and The View’s, Whoopi Goldberg, Michael Aronov (Snowpiercer), Laya DeLeon Hayes (The Equalizer), Gabe Fazio (The Good Nurse), and Broadway stars Montego Glover and Orfeh. The star power continued with Laila Robins (The Walking Dead), Luke Slattery (Boys in the Boat), Sam Vartholomeos (The Crowded Room). Jonathan Roumie, Annie Leibovitz, Dallas Jenkins All images: David Benthal/BFA.com Additional reporting by Madison Coombs and Preston Lyles. Subscribe to our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to stay up to date on all the latest fashion news and juicy industry gossip. // Allow detecting when fb api is loaded. function Deferred() var self = this; this.promise = new Promise( function( resolve, reject ) self.reject = reject; self.resolve = resolve; ); window.fbLoaded = new Deferred(); window.fbAsyncInit = function() FB.init( appId : '374762726405868', autoLogAppEvents : true, xfbml : true, version : 'v3.0' ); window.fbLoaded.resolve(); ; (function(d, s, id) var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = " fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); (document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); Source link

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norajworld · 7 days ago

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ellajme0 · 7 days ago

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futuresconnected · 1 year ago

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January 1st, 2024: Kiryu Quest Continues

Happy new year everybody! Hope you all enjoyed your Holiday Week!

I had the week off from work, and set a goal for myself to beat Yakuza Kiwami 2. It took me most of the week, even though my final playtime only came in around 32 hours, it somehow felt much longer. Big thoughts up top is that that game is an absolute blast, easily my fave of the series that I've played so far, and I think it does a lot of interesting things with its position as "remake sequel to a remake sequel to a prequel". I want to dig into that a little bit more, so bear with me here.

Now that I've played all three, its interesting to look at how Yakuza 0, Kiwami, and Kiwami 2 essentially form a trilogy that let RGG Studios look back at the story and characters that they built over the years and give the whole thing a new foundation. For me, I think that the clearest way that they accomplish this is with Majima. Goro Majima is a side character and recurring boss from the first couple of games in the series that grew a solid fanbase over time because who doesn't love a fucked up Joker man (I know I do), becoming popular enough to warrant RGG making him one of the protagonists and playable characters in 0. Here the players get a chance to meet Majima before he goes completely Joker-mode and get a better understanding of what kind of person he is beyond his later obsession with Kiryu and general mob boss-ness. His relationship with Makoto, a woman that the whole plot of 0 essentially hinges on, was something that I felt was really compelling, and his internal conflict between getting back into the Yakuza (killing Makoto) and helping this woman escape her situation and find a good life was something that had me holding my breath the whole time.

I bring this aspect up specifically, because the fact that RGG took the prequel story they made and built a ton of new connections to that into their remade first and second game stories is something pretty unique in the world of video games. Kiwami 2 is full of payoffs for this, from the very fun reprise of the cabaret club management game in Sotenbori and appearances from old Majima substory characters, to my personal favorite scene in the game where Majima reconnects with Makoto and both of them are able to get some closure on the mess they went through 20 years prior. These games usually don't get me too bad, but I was crying that whole time!

All that being said, this game was also intensely silly in ways that I loved, so here's a collection of good screenshots from times where Kiryu voice acted in a Yaoi game, runs into an impostor, and struggles to put together coherent sentences when various hot girls are on screen:

That's the Yakuza Update, I have also installed Yakuza 3 and played a couple hours of that, seeing Kiryu in full tropical dad mode is lovely, though I know that sadly will not last. Another exciting thing that happened this week is that I got the opportunity to help a friend of mine learn how to play Path of Exile!

For those who don't know, Path of Exile is a Diablo-style isometric loot-based RPG that was made for absolute freaks when it comes to character progression, player economy simulation, and pure visual clutter and chaos. It's by all accounts an insane game that you need to be a little insane to enjoy. I also have nearly 1000 hours of game time over the ten years its been out. When my friend Wes told me that he was going to play through at least the first five acts due to some end-of-year fantasy draft obligations, I offered my services as a guide and with a couple hours of instructive gameplay and conversation we managed to get his character build up and running, much to his delight. PoE is a game that is incredible easy to bounce off of if you don't know how the game is "supposed" to be played, or how to make a character that works, but I think at this point I've got him on the hook for at least a full Act 1-10 playthrough, and maybe a touch beyond that. I've never had the chance to play this game with a friend before, its been a lot of fun so far! And seeing someone experience the pure dopamine joys of filling the screen with bullshit that kills hordes of monster while zipping around at high speed has been a true joy.

That's all for me, I'll probably take a brief break from Yakuza Quest so as not to burn myself out, hopefully I'll get to play a good chunk more of Path of Exile, and the end of this month begins the 8 week Gamepocalypse of Yakuza 8, Persona 3 Reload, FF7 Reunion, and a bunch of other stuff I'm certainly forgetting. See you later!

#jan 2024 #futuresconnected

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chaeryybomb · 4 years ago

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BRUTAL

pairings: female reader x best friend!jungwon

summary: they told you that these were the golden years, but to you "golden" was a rusting metal spray painted yellow. the story of a seventeen year old trying to survive high school when all you do is try your best. but your best friend jungwon makes it worth the while.

genre: high school au, friends to lovers, fluff, tiny bits of angst if you squint, attempt at humour

featuring: jang wonyoung, kim sunoo & nishimura riki

word count: 4.5k

warnings: reader having a existential crisis most of the time, strong language, mentions of insecurity

the sour series masterlist

You slumped forward the moment the bell rang, letting your head hit the table. You could care less if a bruise would form on your forehead, you had much bigger things to worry about. Your teacher left the class wordlessly as the class was busy doing their own thing. And by that, everyone was buried nose deep in studying. You lifted your head to see the different books of the same topic scattered on your desk, a yellow highlighter balancing on the edge of your table.

Reaching over to grab the highlighter, you turned your head over to the side to look at your desk mate. Wonyoung sat there looking straight out from a k-drama, with her hair flowing down her back perfectly and her slender nimble fingers moving as she continuously wrote in her notebook. She was smart too, fluent in English and Korean, great at maths and science. And on top of that she was kind and friendly, everyone loved her. You did too, you had the honour of calling her your best friend. But sometimes you felt insecure around her, everything she did looked flawless and there you were just trying your best.

"Ack!" You yelped as you sat up straight, holding your forehead. Wonyoung rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her lips, she had flicked your forehead to get you out of your thoughts.

Without taking her eyes off the textbook, she tapped your own workbook with her pen. Silently telling you to stop procrastinating. You pouted at her and looked at the clock, 10 minutes before lunch. Maybe a walk to the girl's bathroom would do you some good.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you whispered to Wonyoung. She nodded and smiled at you before you walked out.

As you strolled towards the girl's bathroom, you passed by the bulletin board outside your class. A bright blue poster stood out with the words "ENJOY YOUR YOUTH" in white. Scoffing at the message, you continued on your way.

"I'm seventeen now, where's my fucking teenage dream?" You muttered to yourself. You were tired of waiting for your life to end up like a coming of age movie. Everyone told you that these were the golden years and you should enjoy your youth, but you swear to god if you hear another one of those cheesy sayings, you might just cry on the spot.

Reaching over to open the stall door, you halt in your actions when you heard familiar voices talking.

"I'm so worried for finals, my parents are gonna kill me if I fail English again," a girl complained. You hear the sound of tap water running. "How are you so calm during this time, Mirae?'

"What's the use of studying hard anyways," the second girl, Mirae, said. "We all know the top spots are gonna be taken by Jang Wonyoung and Yang Jungwon, I just study enough to pass."

The other girl snorted at her reply. "Imagine if those two got together, the power couple of the year," she suddenly said.

"Poor Y/N then, she's gonna be over shadowed by them."

"As if she already isn't. I almost forgot they were a trio until you mentioned Y/N," the girl laughed.

"What can I say? They're out of her league," Mirae joined in with her laughter.

The two voices faded away as you heard the door closed. Finally pushing the door open, you looked at your reflection. Your eyebrows knitted in annoyance and your face was morphed in a scowl. You washed your hands aggressively and poked the inside of your cheek. What bugged you was that they were right. You were the black sheep between Wonyoung and Jungwon. Both of them were smart and amazing, and you're just…you.

You love your best friends, you truly do. But you were constantly compared to them and you hated it. Everyone wanted them, you watched as guys tripped over to confess to Wonyoung and girls squealing when Jungwon smiled at them. The two of them always reassured you that you weren't beneath them but you were sick of their sympathy. You're so caught up in the news of who likes you and who hates them. You just wished people liked you more.

Storming out of the bathroom, someone accidentally ran into you and caused you to fell onto your butt. The student immediately stood up and scurried off, not bothering to even a mutter an apology. All I did was try my best and this is the thanks I get, you thought bitterly.

They said that these were the golden years, but you wished you could just disappear. God, it's brutal out here.

"Y/N, wait up!" Jungwon called after you.

You stopped in your tracks as you watched Jungwon waved goodbye to some students before jogging towards you.

"You heading to cram school today?" He asked you as the both of you fell into the same walking rhythm.

You shook your head, clasping your hands behind. "I moved it to Thursday instead, Wonyoung said I had to many things on Tuesday," you told him. Originally, you would be heading to the library to study before heading over to the cram school. But Wonyoung took one look at your schedule and decided that you did not had enough breaks, so she managed to convince you to take the Thursday slot instead. Thursdays are one of the days where you would not go to the library.

Jungwon seemed to be disappointed to find out that you had switched slots. Maybe he should changed slots too, but does he have any empty spots open for Thursday though? He'd have to check later. Instead, he coughed and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Do you wanna come over later? The new Demon Slayer movie is out," he offered, hoping that you'd accept.

Unfortunately, you once again shook your head. "Sorry Jungwon, I'd want to cram even more later. Finals are really creeping in and I can't afford to waste any time," you told him with a sad smile. As much as you would like to ditch the books and watch Demon Slayer, the glaring C on your last history paper was telling you otherwise.

You stopped walking when you had reached your doorstep. "Thanks for walking me home, Jungwon. See you tomorrow!" and with that you disappeared behind the door.

Jungwon waved goodbye as he watched the door closed. The smile on his face dropped and his shoulder sagged. Jungwon you idiot, of course she would want to study, he scolded himself. With disappointment on his face, he trudged home with a heavy heart.

"Change of plans, guys," he announced as he swung the front door open, unfazed by the fact that Riki and Sunoo were lounging on his coach. He accepted the fact that Sunoo had somehow gotten the keys to his house (suspecting that his mother probably gave it to him due to favouritism or maybe Riki had sneakily made a copy).

Riki's head poked out from the couch. "She rejected you, didn't she," the younger boy said with a smirk.

Jungwon's face ears turned red as he glared at the boy. "No she did not!" He immediately told him. "She rejected the offer to watch the movie, that's different!"

"That's basically rejection, hyung," Riki laughed.

The other boy just glared at him. "Shut up!" he sputtered out before hiking up the stairs.

Sunoo gave Riki a look, to which the Japanese boy just shrugged his shoulders innocently.

Jungwon walked out from the shower, a towel around his neck with one hand running through his damp hair. Sunoo and Riki had left earlier, finally giving him some peace and quiet. His phone screen was flashing from his study table, initiating that someone was spamming him (quite aggressively) with text message. With a raised eyebrow, he picked up his phone

[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: WHY DID Y/N JUST MESSAGED ME ABOUT HOMEWORK

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: ISNT SHE WITH YOU

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: I THOUGHT YOU SAID U WERE GONNA WATCH A MOVIE

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: DEMON HUNTER OR SMTG

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: WHY IS SHE ASKING ME FOR HW

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: DID U CHICKEN OUT???

[7:13 pm] wonyoung: omg u chickened out didnt u

[7:14 pm] jungwon: jfc wonyoung

[7:15 pm] jungwon: and no i did not chicken out okay

[7:15 pm] jungwon: she declined

[7:16 pm] jungwon: she said she had to study ;-;

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: omg u suck

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: i told u the movie idea was dumb

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: but do u ever listen to me

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: no

[7:19 pm] wonyoung: and now u suffer the consequences

[7:20 pm] jungwon: yea yea i get it im dumb

[7:20 pm] jungwon: now what's ur solution the great jang wonyoung

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: i am so glad u asked :)

[7:21 pm] jungwon: oh no

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: stfu im giving u a better idea

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: a n y w a y s

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: my ynradar is going off and she's s a d

[7:23 pm] jungwon: how would u know

[7:23 pm] jungwon: she seemed fine today

[7:23 pm] wonyoung: stfu jungwon its best friend things u wont understand

[7:24 pm] jungwon: i-

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: and as her future bf u SHOULD start to train ur ynradar

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: anw its exam season stoopid

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and its when those kids start to talk abt how the both of us are gonna get top scores

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and they talk down on y/n while doing so

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: assholes

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: so i propose to u

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: a ✨ study date ✨

[7:28 pm] jungwon: i

[7:29 pm] jungwon: that's

[7:29 pm] jungwon: actually not a bad idea

[7:30 pm] wonyoung: obv i came up with it

[7:31 pm] jungwon: can u not

[7:31 pm] wonyoung: anw a study date

[7:32 pm] wonyoung: she's struggling in maths

[7:33 pm] wonyoung: specifically taxes because she said and i quote

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: "why do we have to do taxes when we pay people to do it for us"

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: so pls help her and try to cheer her up

[7:35 pm] wonyoung: and confess coward

[7:36 pm] jungwon: i make no promises for the last one

[7:36 pm] wonyoung: aFTER EVERYTHING I JUST SAID

[7:37 pm] jungwon: what if she rejects me wonyoung

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION A LOT OF TIMES JUNGWON

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: SHE LIKES U BUT SHES TOO DUMB TO REALISE

[7:39 pm] jungwon: sigh

[7:40 pm] jungwon: fine i'll try thanks wonyoung

[7:41 pm] wonyoung: np i expect y'all to be a couple by next monday <3

[7:41 pm] jungwon: i-

Sighing for the nth time of the night, Jungwon sat on his bed. He allowed the towel to slipped off his shoulders as his thumb hovered over your chat icon. Truth be told, he always thought his crush on you was unrequited love. You never showed any signs of returning of feelings so he thought he would just ignore the feeling until it was gone.

But oh boy was he wrong, because he didn't knew that he would be spending his high school years by your side. And now you occupy his mind 24/7. Wonyoung could literally tell that he was in love with you, but somehow you never caught on. He allowed Sunoo and Riki to convince him to do the whole "movie date idea", but that failed. So Wonyoung's suggestion was his only option left.

He typed out the message, ready to send it out. If only he could just press the button. Come on Yang Jungwon, you can do this. Just press the damn button Jungwon. Suddenly his phone pinged loudly, scaring the lights out of the poor boy as he yelped and his phone landed with a thud on the ground. He peered over his bed, as if his phone was a ticking bomb.

Oh, it was a message from you.

[8:01 pm] y/n: hey do u know where wonyoung is

[8:01 pm] y/n: she isn't answering my texts

Oh no. He realised that your chat was open, the two ticks indicated that he had (unintentionally) read the message. He couldn't just leave you on read. That's just evil. Scrambling to get his phone, he immediately typed a reply to cover for the other girl.

[8:02 pm] jungwon: sorry i don't :/

[8:02 pm] jungwon: what do u need her for

[8:03 pm] y/n: mf was supposed to teach me a maths question but she left me on rEAD

This was his chance! It was the perfect opportunity for him to score a date with you. Okay, breathe in breath out Jungwon. Don't mess it up and just ask her, he mentally prepared himself.

[8:04 pm] jungwon: oh i could help you if you want

[8:04 pm] jungwon: yk with finals coming up and everything, i can help you study

[8:05 pm] jungwon: if you want of course

[8:05 pm] y/n: omg srsly??

[8:06 pm] jungwon: pls help me study my braincells are literally dying

[8:07 pm] jungwon: jdsjkda okay how about this saturday at your place?

[8:08 pm] y/n: yeah sure

[8:08 pm] jungwon: cool its a date then!

You blinked at Jungwon's message. A date? Wait, did Yang Jungwon just indirectly asked you out? Nah, nah. You were overthinking it. Yes, definitely overthinking. Don't kid yourself, why would Jungwon ask you out on a date? Jungwon is just a friend, you tried to convince yourself.

Keyword: tried.

If he really was just a friend, then why did it felt like butterflies were in your stomach when he said "it was a date"? Then why did you frowned when those girls said that Wonyoung and Jungwon would make a good couple?

Oh god, do you have feelings for your best friend?

Saturday came faster than you would have liked it to. Ever since that last chat with Jungwon, it gave you the sudden realisation that you did in fact had feelings for your best friend. You tried so hard to avoid him in school because you don't want the butterflies back in your stomach. It was basically confirming the fact that you like him. Well, avoiding him also confirmed the fact but you choose to be in denial about it.

You didn't tell Wonyoung about your study date but lately she's been sending you outfit ideas on Pinterest. Specifically, date outftis. And whenever you tried to ask her a question about school, she brushed you off with a random excuse. So it left you no choice but to save those questions for Jungwon.

Speaking of Jungwon, he had texted you 10 minutes ago that he was on the way. You were standing in the middle of your room with your hands on your hips. Both of your parents were out for the day, which left you alone at home. You had taken out the low table to be used later and it was currently in front of you. Colourful workbooks were neatly stacked on top of it.

You did a 360 turn around your room. Was it messy? You cleaned it this morning when you woke up. Did you had any clothes out? No, doesn't look like it. For some reason, you were a nervous wreck. You blamed Jungwon. He just had to call this a date, didn't he.

Should you change? Maybe you should finally look through all those pins Wonyoung sent. Wait, no, why would you have to change into something nice. Jungwon was here to help you study, just that.

Yeah, a study date, your mind emphasised on the word.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out from your thoughts. You immediately went to open the door. Yang Jungwon stood there on the other side, with his signature smile. Had he always resembled a sheep? He just looked so fluffy.

"Hey!" You greeted him with a smile, internally wincing at your way-too-enthusiastic voice.

But Jungwon didn't seem to mind it. "Hey!" he greeted back.

You moved to the side to let him in. "Thank you for having me," he said as he bowed then proceeded to remove his shoes.

"Uh, do you want anything? Water?" You asked him.

He shook his head.

"Ah, cool. Let's head to my room," you started to walk back to your room.

"Where are your parents?" He asked.

"Out," you simply replied.

That was when it dawned upon you, that your parents were not home. Leaving you and Jungwon, alone. Together. In your room. Alone. With the boy you potentially have a crush on.

"Y/N?" Jungwon tapped on your shoulder. You had stopped walking when you were suddenly washed over by your thoughts. Snapping out of it, you sent him a small smile before opening the room to your door.

The both of you shuffled into your bedroom, you sat down in front of the low table while Jungwon settled down next to you. He moved to take out his books then turned to you. "How about we do some studying and if you have any questions, you can ask me okay?" He said.

You nodded and flipped your own workbook open, immediately starting to work on the first question. Jungwon copied your action and a comfortable silence engulfed the both of you. As the time passed, you found yourself stuck on a certain maths question.

You slightly turned your head to the side to look at Jungwon. He was concentrated at doing his work, you felt a sense of deja vu while looking at him. He resembled Wonyoung when she was studying. At the thought of Wonyoung, you suddenly thought of what those girls said at the bathroom.

They would make a good couple, wouldn't they, you thought. The power couple of the year.

The butterflies in your stomach faded away into an uncomfortable feeling. Just the idea of them getting together already made you sick. You bit the inside of your cheek, you really did had feelings for him. And now it scared you because what if he doesn't feel the same. You made a mental note to consult with Wonyoung later, at least you hope that you'll allow yourself to tell her.

Jungwon must've noticed you staring and gently tapped your head with his pencil. A contrast to when Wonyoung painfully flicked your forehead.

"What's wrong? Are you stuck on a question?" He asked.

You leaned back a bit at the sudden action. You were so deep in your insecurities that you had totally forgotten about the literal problem sitting in front of you. Yet you couldn't even bother to ask him so you just shook your head. "I'm gonna get something to drink," you said instead.

Jungwon watched as you stood up, then decided to follow you as well. "I'll come along."

The boy joined you in the kitchen, perched on one of the island stools as you grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He studied your movement as you worked around the kitchen. Your features were neutral, you weren't smiling nor frowning. But he could tell that your shoulders were tensed. Wonyoung was right, you did seem down. And he cursed himself for not noticing earlier.

"You okay?" His question made you stopped in a mid-pour stance, the can of soda was tilted but not enough for the contents to be poured out.

You brushed his question off and poured the drink into the cup. "Yeah," you hummed.

Unconvinced by your answer, he pried more. "You know you shouldn't care about what they say, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, pretending like you didn't understand where he was coming from.

"You're not below us, you know that right?"

You couldn't help but scoffed at his words. Jungwon's lips tugged downwards "I'm being serious here, Y/N," his tone was stern. "You shouldn't listen to what they say. You're more than just-"

The sound of the can being slammed down shuts him up. Your fingers tightened around the can as you looked at him. You didn't had the energy to hear him preach the same old "Don't Listen To Them" speech. You don't need his pity.

"I don't want to hear it, Yang Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth. Not sparing him another glance, you threw the empty can into the trash as you grabbed your glass.

As you walked past Jungwon, he suddenly reached out and held onto your forearm. "Y/N," he said softly. "Please tell me what's wrong."

You sighed and slowly turn around to face him, placing the glass back on the counter. You took in a deep breath before you opened your mouth. "I feel like I'm not enough," you finally said. "Everything I do just doesn't seem enough. All I'm doing is my best but it's just crushing my ego because everyone is telling me that you're better than me."

"I feel like no one wants me and I hate the way I'm perceived. It's always poor Y/N this and poor Y/N that's because everyone just sees me as your shadow and I fucking hate it. I only have two real friends," you gestured wildly. "And lately I'm a nervous wreck cause I keep comparing myself to the two of you. I'm not cool and I'm not smart, and I can't even parallel park!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the feelings you kept inside were pouring out like a waterfall.

Jungwon just stood there as he listened tentatively to every word. He didn't knew that you felt this way, bottling up all your emotions like that.

"And I'm so tired of people telling me to enjoy my youth and that these are the golden years. I might just fucking cry if I hear those words again," you finished ranting. It felt good, it felt like a weight on your heart has been lifted. Then you remembered that you just dumped all of it on Jungwon.

You opened your mouth to apologise to him but he surprised you by pulling him into his arms. At first you were standing stiffly at the sudden contact, but it took a millisecond for you to melt in his embrace. His arms were gently around your back and you returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his torso. The two of you stay in that position for awhile, relishing in each other's embrace. You definitely needed this hug.

Tightening your hold on Jungwon, you realised how important he was to you. He was your best friend and he was always there for you. It was stupid of you to compare yourself to him, when all he did was tried his best for you. The taller boy chuckled when he felt you rubbed your face into his shoulder, he involuntarily released a contented sigh. You felt one of his hands stroked your hair, it felt comforting. That action itself was enough for the butterflies to slowly settled back in you.

After a while, both of you finally (unwillingly) released each other. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears and said, "You're wrong by the way." Which made you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

"You are cool and you are smart. You're like the coolest person I know. And no one thinks of you as our shadow, you don't hear it but I've always hear the juniors praising you for helping them and how enthusiastic you are," the way he delivered his words was filled with pure awe for you.

"And who cares if you can't parallel park. You didn't hear it from but Jay hyung failed his drivers test three times just because he couldn't parallel park," and that got a laugh out from you. Jungwon smiled proudly that he managed to make you laugh. "And you're wrong when you said no one wants you. I want you."

You blinked once, twice and thrice. He wanted you? "You're just saying that cause you're my best friend," you replied.

"No," he firmly said. "I like you, Y/N."

(Jungwon doesn't know where he got this sudden surge of confidence, but the mood was the perfect time for him to confess. It was a one time chance and he had to take it.)

You chuckled. "I like you too, Jungwon. We are friends aren't we?"

"No, Y/N. I like you. More than friends."

"Oh." Oh.

"Yeah," he scratched the back of neck awkwardly. Oh no, did you not feel the same way?

While you on the other hand, were malfunctioning on the inside. Your best friend just confessed to you and you were frozen on the spot. Why couldn't he had done it over text instead. If he had done it over text, then you could've left the message unread and you could've spammed Wonyoung for help. But the thing is that it wasn't over text and you couldn't just tell him to wait here while you panicked to Wonyoung in your bathroom.

Yang Jungwon likes you. And you like him too, right? Because if you didn't, your cheeks won't be heating up right now and your heart would have not be beating rapidly like it was going to break your rib cage any second. If you didn't like him, there would have never been butterflies in your stomach. Yeah. You like Yang Jungwon, you like him a lot.

"Me too," you whispered, it was soft but it was enough for him to pick it up. Jungwon eyes snapped to you, doe eyed filled with hope. "I like you, too," you said, this time louder. And you made sure you looked him in the eye when you confessed.

You watched as Jungwon's mouth morphed into a big grin. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped to his knees, surprising you. "Jungwon!" you squeaked, bending down to help him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine," he assured you as he stood up with your help. The grin on his face was still there. "It's just that … you like me," he breathed out. "You like me back, wow. I-I can't believe it."

Your face was definitely burning with embarrassment. You punched him lightly on the shoulder, turning away to hide your face. "Believe it, you dork. I like you, okay!" Somehow his grin was able to grew wider at your words, Gently, he took your hand in his.

"How about we stop this study date, and I'll take you out on real date?"

a/n: thank you so much for reading this <3

#enhypen #yang jungwon #jungwon #enhypen imagines #yang jungwon imagines #jungwon imagines #enhypen x reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios #yang jungwon scenarios #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon fluff #chaeryybomb; the sour series

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struggling-with-time · 4 years ago

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Rainy days [Corpse x reader]

Paring: Corpse husband x Female!reader

Summary: “corpse x fem!reader ( she’s also a youtuber ) where they are just friends for a few years, but reader has been developing feelings for a while now. with corpse’s fan base growing so quickly, there’s also a lot of growing attention from other girls ( fans & other social media influencers ). corpse is happy with all the attention, while it is breaking the reader’s heart more every day. basically, super angsty lol and it’s totally up to you how you want to end it!” requested by anon

“please make one where like the reader and corpse fought so its like raining outside and yk the cliche type” requested by anon

Warnings: Angst and jealousy, kinda sad, I’m sorry

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Open for requests. Two requests for one.

Read part 2 cloudy afternoons here

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You’re happy for Corpse, of course you are. What good friend wouldn’t be happy for their friend when they suddenly start to shoot for the stars? You definitely would. Right? It’s not like it hurts to watch him take in all these girls that throw themselves at him, he has never been happier for the many years you’ve known him. His YouTube channel is finally paying the bills for him, and you’re happy he doesn’t have to fear getting an eviction note, for dancing on the line a little too long. You’re happy that he has all these new friends. You’re happy he’s enjoying himself. You’re happy, because he’s happy. So why does it hurt so much?

You’ve had feelings for your best friend for quite some time. You tried to push them away, which in return just seemed to cultivate them and make them stronger. You tried your damn best just to be his quirky happy best friend that was along with him for the ride. You never minded being the one to pick up the pieces when he fell apart. He would do the same for you… He would do the same for you, right?

You wipe away a tear escaping from your eye. You’re sitting in the shower crying on the floor. This is really what you’ve become? You think to yourself, as you lean your head back against the wall, looking up at the wooden ceiling.

He would do the same for you…

You dryly laugh to yourself, of course he wouldn’t, because then he would have known when you started pulling away. You wipe the tears away, get up and rise off your face once more, before stepping out. You look at where your mirror used to be. You took it down, not able to face yourself was easier than to accept this is just how you look permanently now. Dark circles underneath your eyes, as they’ve sunken quite a bit.

You kind of forgot how you really looked sometimes, until you caught yourself in something reflective, like your pc when it ran out of power, or your metallic glazed mug. You smile bitterly at the memory, Corpse had bought it to you when you reached 100.000 subs on YouTube, saying the play button wasn’t enough. It used to be a prized possession, now it was one of your worst.

You’re happy you build your YouTube brand on variety gaming, without a face cam. You couldn’t imagine having to explain away the way you looked. The monotone in your voice was hard enough.

I was just having an off day

Sorry, kind of sick today

My microphone isn’t picking up my voice probably.

You sigh to yourself as you collect your phone, and your empty bag. The fridge doesn’t fill itself. You’re pretty sure your fans caught onto something being wrong by the 4th excuse. You lock the door behind you, and glace up at the sky. It seems to be getting darker. You sigh as you realize you’re not going to be back home before it’s raining.

You walk the short distance down to the bus as you wait for it to arrive, you scroll through your twitter feed. It’s filled with pretty girls, much prettier than you are, throwing themselves at Corpse. You get a sudden urge to throw your phone into the passing traffic, but money has been tight lately with your down tuning of content, to take more time to be able to self-pity in the living room with a shitty romance show going on.

You really lost your best friend to your own feelings, huh. What an anticlimax.

You step onto the bus, not noticing the black dressed, black masked guy in the end of it. Watching you intentionally. If you had been able to read minds, you would hear the ongoing battle in his head on whether or not to approach you.

The bus pulls up the grocery store and you get off. Not sparing the other two passengers getting off a second thought. You pull your jacket closer together, as the wind starts getting colder. You finally arrive in the store, just a few seconds before the rain starts to drop.

The calming ominous music of the store fills your eyes, as you focus on getting something edible that isn’t directly just sugar with more sugar. You pick your groceries carefully, nothing that needs a lot of preparation. But if you eat one more tv meal, you’re going to throw it up. You’re too distracted by what pasta to choose, that you don’t realise the guy in black has now passed you for the 5th time, while you’re in aisle 9.

You choose both and head for the register. You sigh as you watch the long line, there’s only one way out, and you’re certainly not leaving your groceries now. You step in line. And pull out your phone. The lock screen taunting you with a picture of you and Corpse mushed together somehow in his gaming chair, you’re pretty sure it was Dave that took the photo. You shake your head and check the time. The bus just left. You sigh knowing there is a little over an hour before the next one leaves. Fucking public transport.

It finally becomes you, you watch the price tick up further and further. You take your card out. Swipes it through.

Declined.

What? You try it again

Declined.

C’mon, it has got to work. You try again

Declined.

And again

Declined.

And again

Declined.

You smile apologetic to the cashier, as you start to figure out what you won’t be needing too much.

“I’ll pay for her.” A deep voice speaks further down the line. You know exactly the person whose voice that is.

“Please, you don’t have to-“ You watch as Corpse steps out of the line and puts a box of cereal on the register for the cashier to ring up with the rest of your stuff.

“I don’t-“

“That’ll be 79 dollars and 32 cents, please.” The cashier ignores you.

Corpse pays and gets the receipt, knowing you’re going to beg him for you to pay him back. You used to do the same when you were little. Corpse stands by as he watches you pack your groceries, and he waits for you. He barely recognized you in the bus. It’s been weeks since you last spoke, and even longer since you last saw each other. He knows you were getting bad, but not this bad. He don’t know why he never reached out he knows he should. But there are too many unsaid things hanging in the air, and neither of you wanting to be the one to pick the first one.

He reaches out to take one of the two bags. But you take it right underneath him, and walk to the doors, leaving him to hurry after or be left behind.

“Y/N I-“

He gets surprised by the rain, he hadn’t noticed the darkening sky earlier. You keep walking until he calls out after you again.

“Y/N! Please!”

You stop in you tracks. To think you had missed hearing your name from his lips, he uses it like it’s not the only thing you have left that’s your own.

He jogs the remaining distance and puts his hand on your shoulder, and you let him turn you around to make him face you. He’s not sure if it’s the rain, or if it’s tears that’s starting to fall. He takes the rest of your face in, the dark circles, the clear weight loss. He know, you don’t know how much you don’t look like yourself.

“Listen, thank you, I’ll pay you back next month. But if you’re not going to say anything, I have places to be, and-“

He puts his hand on her chin caressing it. She suddenly looks so small standing there in front of him. You quickly pull yourself back, wanting to lean into his touch, but knowing that it would only make what hurts, hurt more in the end.

“What did you want?” You snap at him. And something snaps in him too, as his brows furrows together.

“Oh I don’t know. Say hi to my best who just up and disappeared from the face of earth two months ago. I wonder what I want.” He snaps back at you, his deep voice nearly emitting a growl of frustration from him.

“So what, that’s what it takes 2 months before you want to find me. Did you get tired of all those girls throwing themselves at you? Did you get tired of your new friends you just cast me aside from? Did you get tired of all the money? Please do tell.” You stretch out your arms in a welcoming stance.

Corpse takes a step back, you’ve never yelled at him like this before. Tears streaming down your face as you’re soothing anger.

“…You think I threw you aside?” Corpse sucks in a breath waiting for your anger to come at him, but instead you suddenly look small again.

“Didn’t you Corpse? The excuse why I could never come over anymore, why you never had time. I was happy for you, you know, I supported you all the way. Heck I even fucking loved you, and you cast me aside, you up and threw away so many memories and a long friendship, just because I suddenly didn’t fit into your new group.” You look him straight in the eyes. “Corpse, I’m tired okay. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep picking up your pieces and help you reassemble yourself, for you to keep casting me aside. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t need your pity; I don’t need anything from you. I’ll make sure you get the money first thing next month.”

She takes a step away from him, the before intimate atmosphere now fully escaped.

“All I ask is that we part here. I love you too much to watch you fall apart again.” Your voice is trembling as you turn around heading for the bus stop, leaving Corpse in the rain to fend for himself.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #delias own writing

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wasbangtanhome · 4 years ago

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late, late, late | KSJ

banner made by bangtanhome! (me)

Summary: Is he late? Yes. Were you mad? Yes. Was it a special day? Yes, yes, yes! You had everything prepared and you just wanted your boyfriend to come home. Now.

Pairing: Office worker!Kim Seokjin x F(Reader) | also kind of dom!Jin

Warning: 18+. Smut in the form of: pwp, provocative dress, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it hehe), oral sex (M receiving), fingering, use of the word "slut", cumming inside, impact play (ass and pussy). also he used the L word.

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's note: Short and sweet to start off my journey here on tumblr!! I hope you enjoy it and to please please let me know about any improvements. I worked really hard on it! Also my first smut fic! Also, also, there are not a lot of pet names ever since I saw the post about what Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, and Jin would call their lover. I got super sappy.

From the kitchen window, you have a clear view of the entrance leading to your apartment that you share with your boyfriend. The sun has set and it's well past dinner time but you have yet to see his face walking up the steps, blowing a kiss at your general direction.

You chew the inside of your cheek. He's late, you thought, peering out the window for the nth time while drying the dishes. You can't help but worry. Seokjin usually calls if he picked up an extra shift, but your phone has yet to move.

Today marks a year of the two of you living together. The year hasn't treated you kindly. A while back, your company had some budget cuts. Your department was abolished and unlike the lucky coworkers that were transferred, you were a part of the handful that received severance pay.

You figured going back to work would be easy, especially with your qualifications. However, you have yet to get a call from any of the places you applied to. With you unable to work, you spend your days maintaining the apartment. Your boyfriend, his smile ever present, told you he would just have to take more shifts.

‘You know, ______, housework is really hard to do,’ he remarked. ‘Besides, I make more than enough money to support us both.’

You smiled at your boyfriend then. It was true, there wasn’t really a need for you to go to work. You eased up on your stress over not finding work and dutifully cleaned the apartment.

You trudged your way to the entrance of the apartment. Head resting on the front door before unlocking it with your key. Seokjin was drinking tea by the window sill, looking as ethereal as ever. He noticed you had entered the apartment, smiling lovingly at you.

Before he had a chance to say hello, you broke the news about what happened during work. Instantly, your boyfriend came towards you, his smile faltering as he saw the state you were in. The fatigue in your bones left you slumped on the ground.

Seokjin did not say a word, opted to close and lock the door behind you before sinking to his knees to meet you at eye level.

‘Hey,’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

He nudged your shoulder and you fell to his embrace. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You whimper softly as you seize his dress shirt, hot tears falling on his dress shirt, turning the color a shade darker than it was. Your knuckles turned white as your chest rose and fell rapidly, ragged breathing moaning the loss. And yet, your Seokjin rubbed circles on your back soothingly, hugging you tightly, not saying a word.

‘Sorry,’ you remembered mumbling as the coil in your stomach loosened.

‘Don’t be sorry, _____, there’s no reason for you too,’ he whispered back.

Silence fell before he piped up. ‘What do you call a bike that can’t stand on its own?’ he waggled his eyebrows when you looked at him, confused at what he’s saying. It took you a good moment to know that he was joking.

‘Two-tired!’ he exclaimed, laughing at his own joke. You smiled at your lover and before long, laughed along with him; his joy infecting your sadness.

He took out his handkerchief, wiping the streaks of tears away and giving it to you. At his gesture, you snickered before dissolving once more into tears. He had fretted then, worried that he had done something wrong.

‘I’m so lucky,’ you mumbled in tears. ‘Lucky to have you as my boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.’

He smiled softly at your comment, proceeded to pull you in his lap. ‘So, what do you want to do now?’

‘Easy,’ you sniffled, plastering a smile on your face. ‘We order fried chicken and drink!’

Seokjin had looked at you funny, surprised to hear you crave alcohol. Your smile was infectious and he ruffled your hair to agree. ‘That’s my girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘Let’s find you an even better paying job, okay?’

He was so enthusiastic, making the tragedy that happened to you that day seem so… trivial. You got drunk that night, your body not used to the alcohol.

You smile softly at the memory that happened after, your boyfriend’s hair stuck to his face, panting heavily as you came all over him. You try to push the memory away, focusing instead on your task at hand, but the damage was done- you're wet.

You chew on your bottom lip, hands traveling lower, touching your folds.

I’ll just start without him.Something nagged at your brain, and as your fingers sought out your clit, you realize how unsatisfying it would be without your boyfriend coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you.

You moan, anticipation and desperation threatening to consume you. Distracting yourself, you went through your mental checklist again. Skimpy apron? Check. Food? It’s cold because it’s been in the fridge, but check. The line that you’ve been practicing for the past few months to win over your boyfriend? Check, check, and check.

You glance again and the parking lot was empty now, its residents taking space in their respective homes. No sign of Seokjin.

You huff, grabbing your phone and pressing the on power roughly, almost causing it to clatter on the ground. Almost. Your screen flickers on and you see an image of him smiling back at you. You stuck your tongue out at his face, and punched a string of numbers you know by heart.

The line rang for a long time. You were about to let it go to voicemail. At the last second, you hear a tired voice answer you.

“Darling?” Seokjin’s voice was gruff and sleepy. You can make a mental image of him running a hand through his hair. He sounded distracted, probably looking at his spreadsheets as the numbers start to blur together.

"Hi," you try cheerfully, clearing your throat, hoping he can’t hear the anticipation across the phone. You cradle the device between your ear and your shoulder before brushing lint from your apron. "Are you coming home soon?"

Seokjin looked at his watch, knowing something was clearly bothering you. Looking at the time, he scrambled to his feet: 19:32.

"Wh-Wha--?" came the stunned response. You hear Seokjin push his chair back and the familiar beep of his computer turning off. You laugh quietly as you hear doors slam and his voice echoing in the staircase.

"Oh, _____, I'm so sorry. I had no idea what time it was," he pants, high on adrenaline trying to get home as soon as possible.

"I'm so sorry, ______. I'll be home soon. You can start eating without me, okay?"

You feel a grin paint your face, relief that he was at work. "I'm okay! You must be hungry, love. Just glad you're finally coming home. I can't wait to see you. Drive safe!" you exclaim hurriedly, knowing he won’t want to call when he’s driving.

He murmured a confirmation and you ended the call. Seokjin may be late but there’s still cause for celebration. Settling the butterflies in your stomach, you open the fridge door to take out the food you had prepared earlier, heating them up.

You finally see a familiar figure run from his parking space. His dress shirt untucked and he stopped for only a moment to blow a kiss towards you. His hair clung to his scalp, his tie was loose, and his eyes shining with adoration. You waved back quickly before seeing him disappear into the building.

Seokjin expected you to be angry, ready to apologize for coming home so late. At the very least, he expected a hug, you seemed happy enough, asking how his day was in the office. What he didn’t expect was you in an apron… wearing nothing else. His eyes roamed your body, stunned at the lack of clothes, briefcase dropping heavily on the floor.

"Are you going to close the door?" he heard you ask.

Never taking his eyes off of you, he closed and locked the door, sliding out of his work shoes. Like a deer caught in headlights, you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you approached him.

You hear him gasp as you get closer, his face incredulous. You pressed your chest towards his, relishing in his ears turning red.

"Now,” you smirk and grab a hold of his tie. “Would you like to start with dinner,"-- you croon as you fling it behind you.

"-a bath,” you say seductively as you open the first couple of buttons of his dress shirt. “-or me?" you finish, dress shirt completely unbuttoned as you watch his delicious figure.

You don't often see your boyfriend at a loss for words. But this... this was something else. Seokjin opened and closed his mouth, blinking rapidly. You hid your smile behind closed lips, enjoying the fact you’re making him squirm.

"What did you make for dinner?" he stammered, forcing a chuckle.

You waved at the table. "The works, japchae, fried chicken, corn, kimchi… You know, our favourites."

"Huh..." he managed, swallowing. Seokjin knew how hungry he was when he left the office, but he couldn't seem to focus on the steaming delicacies on the table. He turned his gaze back to you, slowly closing the distance between your lips.

"Good answer," you murmur.

"Didn't know it was a test," he whispered, dipping his head back down, claiming your soft lips once more.

You smiled into the kiss, content that he was finally home. His hands stopped trembling as it snaked lower. One hand circled your waist, the other trailing soft circles on your back. You shivered at his delicate touch, arching your back into his hand to feel more.

Seokjin seemed to understand your signal and lifted you up, making your way through the living room to reach your bed. Once you landed with a soft plop, he continued the kiss. Heat was rising to his cheeks as he fully shrugged his dress shirt off, returning shortly to connect his lips to yours.

"Jin, I can't see... it's too dark in here," you whined, feeling your skin burn where he touched your body.

You did not receive an immediate response from your beloved, only hearing the thud of a belt on the floor and you hoped his pants came off with it.

"I think it's the perfect amount of light to make you squirm," he whispers. You feel the mattress sink with his weight and the heated kiss resumes, your hands flying to tug at his hair with urgency. You start to feel feverish from the kiss, trying desperately to connect your hips to something so you can feel the first waves of pleasure. You’ve been waiting for such a long time.

He smiles at your impatience and starts tweaking your clothed nipple. "Off..." you whined, wanting the apron gone.

Seokjin slipped the shoulder straps down. You arch your back and he untied the ribbon holding everything together easily. He threw it over his shoulder and finally, his large palms directly touched your tits. He sucked on a nipple while his hands were busy, roaming every inch of your body. You moaned underneath him, thrusting your chest upwards to give him more access.

"Mmm..." you sigh as his hand travelled south and pressed onto your clit.

"You're so wet already," he released your nipple, chuckling darkly. "Have you been waiting all day? Did you want to be fucked that badly?"

You winced at his words. He continued circling your clit, waiting patiently for your answer. "Well?"

"Yes, darling," you pant out. "I have been waiting all day for you! Ah- and you were late," you whined pathetically.

He chuckled again, muttering apologies under his breath while he continues to play with your clit, your nipple back in his mouth. You knew you were going to get a real apology after you're done, but this was enough.

You felt his finger enter your pussy, testing out to see how tight you were. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he added another finger, eliciting a moan from you.

"Yeah? You like that?" came the breathy response.

Your head spun as he curled his fingers at the sensitive bundle of nerves. His thumb pressed and circled on your clit, his pace getting faster and his thrusts getting deeper.

"Jin, I'm close," you squeak out, squirming at his unrelenting force. Your high was right there, waiting for your undoing. But your boyfriend had other plans and his thrusts stopped completely before you came.

You whined, your hands tugging at his hair dangerously. Frustration swept overr your face as it turned even more crimson than his ears. "J-Jin..." you grumble weakly, catching your breath. Your cunt squeezed at nothing when he removed his fingers completely.

"Wanted to feel you cum on my dick," was his simple response.

In the fog of your pleasure, you weren't aware of his veiny cock rapidly growing harder, tip already leaking precum. You stared, dazed as he pumped his length. You also had other plans when you moved to the floor.

You licked a stripe down from the tip to the base, earning a hiss from your boyfriend. His eyes fluttering shut when you look up, his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth.

You suck lightly at first, taking care that your teeth don't make contact with his sensitive member and begin bobbing to a rhythm. He groaned as you stuffed your mouth with his cock, hands grabbing fistfuls of your hair.

"Ah- ________, ah-, can I move?" he huffed out, unable to form sentences without groans.

You moaned to signal your affirmation and he used your hair as leverage to pull you closer to the base. You struggled and gagged, feeling so fucking full. You whimper as he held you there, his head falling back with a groan.

Seokjin snapped his hips, thrusting deeper into your throat. The sensation made you moan, tears blurring your vision. He picked up the pace when he saw you, loves the view of you struggling with his cock in your mouth.

He loved to ruin you, would never admit that out loud, but seeing his lover whimper and sob because he was too big made him moan. Seokjin was holding your head in place, letting his hips do all the work. You groaned out, the vibrations on his cock almost sent him over the edge.

You knew he was close. In ragged breaths, he was saying how beautiful you were, how well you were taking his cock, how amazing you felt, and all the sweet nothings you often hear. However, when his thrusts turned messy, an indication that he was close, you shifted backwards and his beautiful cock fell out of your mouth.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly, careening forward. He held your head in place for balance, not wanting to fall, worried he hurt you somehow. However, he was greeted with a teasing grin. "Payback, love," was all you said smugly.

You knew you shouldn’t have pushed his buttons that way. But you couldn't help it, knowing the wonderful outcome that awaits you.

He growled, anger flaring with every second that passed since you denied his release. "Bed. Now,” he muttered under his breath. You obliged at his command, though you did it slowly, never taking your eyes of him

This side of Seokjin rarely comes out to play. He was always worried he'd hurt you.

‘Yeah, that's the point,’ you snorted, recalling the memory of explaining what you wanted like he was 5.

Even still, this was a welcomed surprise. You made a mental note of how you pushed his buttons that day, hoping to recreate it in future events.

You were about to sit on the bed when you turned around, climbing on all fours instead, excited about what he would do to you.

“That’s not what I asked you to do, slut” he chuckled, waiting for you to get settled. You teased your ass, moving it closer towards his dick before pulling back.

You didn't anticipate the first slap, the sound of his palm hitting your skin filling the room. You moaned, wiggling your ass towards his face, eyes shining bright with lust.

"Ah- you like being spanked, huh?” Seokjin said, scratching his chin. “Who knew you'd this much of a slut."

You moaned at the word, loving when he said such mean things to you. Your knees buckled when the next smack wasn’t on your ass. He clicked his tongue as he watched your juices flow out from having your cunt smacked. Seokjin reached gingerly towards your clit, teasing it to ease the pain.

"Oh?" he said simply before smacking you again, this time back at your ass. He alternated between slapping your ass and your sopping cunt, the uncertainty of where the next pain would land causing you to see stars.

You whimpered and whined underneath him. Fully lying on your stomach, your ass no longer in the air. You held a pillow, moaning into it, praying the neighbors wouldn't complain about the noise. "J-Jin... please fuck me."

"Huh, I didn’t know this one could beg," he chuckled. The thought of him being with another slut left a twinge in your chest, but that jealousy subsided when he slapped you hard this time, snapping your mind from your thoughts. There was some shuffling behind you and you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, Seokjin coating his erection with your juices.

"Shit- it's so slippery..." he said mockingly, "slipping" past your cunt. "I can't seem to get it in."

His teasing left you desperate, clinging so hard on to the pillow that your knuckles started to turn white. And just as you felt the anticipation was too much, Seokjin thrusted into you fully, his girth entering you all at once, not caring that you usually needed time to adjust to his cock.

Seokjin dragged you closer towards him, your legs off the bed. He held your neck down with his arm and thrusted hard into your cunt. Before long, you begged silently as your high approaches, hoping that this time your boyfriend would let you cum.

"Baby, I- I'm close."

"Are you now, sweetheart?" You nodded and whimpered at his question. Your voice was getting higher, moans filling your small bedroom.

And he stopped again.

You buried your face in the pillow to scream. You were so agonizingly close and he denied you just like that. Tears fall out of your eyes now, you hiccup and sob, glaring daggers at him.

Normal Seokjin would've scooped you into his arms, a myriad of apologies would spill from his mouth.

But not this time. Instead, he grabbed your hips with his muscular arms before flipping you over so you lay flat on the bed. His cock went back inside, thrusting slowly while he spun circles on your sensitive folds.

"Please-" You breathe in deep, trying to stabilize your hiccups.

"One more for me?" he asked. His voice low and husky.

You start shaking your head, pleading, no- you couldn’t do it again. You were begging him to let you cum. He continued his shallow thrusts and his attention on your clit. You sigh underneath him, overstimulated beyond belief.

"One more," he insisted and leaned close to your ear. "For one whole year of living together." He nibbled on the shell before moving down to your neck. "Please?" You moan when he sucked on the delicate flesh.

You melted into his embrace and nod. "One more."

Perhaps you should've considered longer. Perhaps it was your lust-addled brain that made you say yes. Perhaps you should not have fallen for his devilish charm. But it’s all too late now as he lay on the bed, and you climbed over him.

"Mmph..." you moan, throwing your head back while you grind your pussy on his cock. You snuck a glance below only to find seeing your boyfriend drowning in pleasure.

You leaned forward and bumped your forehead with his. Seokjin's eyes open gently. He pants quietly as he cups your face, gently stroking it with his thumb. An angelic smile spreads upon his face, love and affection in his eyes. You whined as you continue riding him, trying to chase your own high while helping him with his, picking up the pace.

You were still moving a bit too slowly for his liking so he thrusted his hips to match your movements. It sent shivers down your spine and you moan deliciously.

"Baby, I can't- ah- Jin..." you pant, bouncing and grinding on his cock, just then realizing how close you actually were. You expected the stop, but it didn't make it any easier. Your boyfriend stopped his movements and held your hips firm, causing your body to convulse.

Seokjin sat up quickly, hugging and kissing your face profusely. "You did such a good job, ______." he said, his apologies in the form of kisses. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You were so pretty bouncing on my cock like that."

You sigh and smiled weakly at him, "Can I rest?" you asked meekly.

You hear him genuinely laugh. His friends always said that his laugh sounded like windshield wipers. But to you, it sounded like wind chimes dancing in the summer.

Seokjin grabbed you and laid you down on the bed gently. He turned to his side and stroked your hair. You faced him, a content smile on your face as you also stroke his cheek.

"I love you."

The sudden confession made you halt. You knew Seokjin meant it. However, he does not say I love you very often. He shows his love with physical touch and "have you eaten?" questions that make you feel so happy he cared. But hearing him say he loved you almost made you cry. Almost. You had enough tears for the day.

"I love you too, darling."

You scoot closer to kiss him, tongue asking permission to enter. He groans when they collide. Your spare hand moved down and stroked his softening cock gently but he sprung up instantly.

"I kinda blue-balled you, sorry," you broke the kiss sheepishly. Seokjin just chuckled and continued the kiss, moving on top of you.

“Are you okay for more?” he asked, back to his usual self.

You nodded enthusiastically.

His cock slid in effortlessly, your pussy already wet and stretched out enough to take him in without any discomfort. Pleasure caused your body to groan. You wanted so badly to come.

He held up both your legs and toyed with your clit. He was able to thrust easily into you. He started out slow, making sure that you were actually okay before it turned manic, his cock going in and out of you with such force.

You whined when his thumb pushed harder on your clit, feeling your walls clench at his huge dick.

His cock going deeper and deeper inside you combined with him touching your clit was all it took. You were suddenly right there, at the edge of pleasure before you snap. You yell his name, your voice getting increasingly higher. You look at him with desperate eyes.

"Cum on my cock, ____," he groaned, marveling at how tight you were getting.

He kept the pace and soon, you were moaning his name, your juices creaming his cock. You loved being filled. You were so full as your walls clenched around him.

A few more hard thrusts and he joined you in pleasure. "Ah- _____," he moaned out as your walls were painted white. You winced when you thought Seokjin was going to fall on top of you, though he caught himself at the last second.

He slid out of you with a hiss and ran to get a towel to clean you up. After he was done, the towel was placed in the laundry basket, along with all the clothes that were discarded from the floor. You roll your eyes, knowing how neat your boyfriend was.

He plopped right next to you and you cuddled closer, throwing an arm over his muscled abdomen.

"Hi," he sighed out in bliss, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "Happy one year anniversary of living together, my dear."

His head dipped towards your and you both nuzzle your nose at each other. "Happy one year, Jin."

"So," he started, clearing his throat. "I can tell you liked getting spanked. Push my buttons some more and maybe it'll happen more often," he laughed at his own comment., waggling his eyebrows at your direction.

This time, it was you who were at a loss for words. You shook your head, rolling your eyes before snuggling so close to him. You found the perfect spot on his chest, as always, pulling the blankets towards the both of you.

He removed himself from underneath you and stared seriously into your eyes. "I know I don't say it enough,"-- you smiled as you notice his ears turning red again-- "but I meant what I said. I do, love you, ____." He held your gaze and you found the strength to sit up slightly to kiss him.

"I know, Jin. This was enough. You are enough."

You've never seen him so giddy and he kissed your forehead again, finally settling down.

"Good night, Kim Seokjin. I’ll clean the food in the morning," you say drowsily.

"Don’t worry, let me get it. Good night, soon-to-be Kim _____," he whispered. You heard the comment but you were tired to ask what he meant. In the morning, you thought to yourself. I'll deal with that in the morning.

When you finally slept, soft snores filling the room, Seokjin got up, carefully detangling him from your arms. You protest slightly but rolled over, not waking up. He padded softly to the kitchen to put the food away. Washing his hands, he looked to the bedroom once more to make sure you were indeed asleep, before opening his briefcase.

Inside, there was a small blue box and Seokjin opened it gingerly, fearing the worst. He sighed in relief as the band reflected a light coming from outside, still intact even though he dropped it earlier. He closed the small box and placed it back in his briefcase.

Seokjin came back to the room to find you had gotten up, hands rubbing your eyes. “Where did you go?”

“Bathroom and grabbed a glass of water,” he lied casually, praying that you didn’t see anything, his heart hammering in his chest.

You mumbled something and he sighed in relief, putting on a pair of boxers before snuggling you close, kissing your forehead.

All characters depicted in this fic are 18+ and fictional.

Any resemblance is just a work of fiction.

All rights © bangtanhome.tumblr.com

Posted on 04.13.2021 at 11:11am GMT+7.

202 notes · View notes

fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Already Gone

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 3477

Part One of Two

Summary: With a relationship interfering with your dangerous job, you force yourself to break things off with your boyfriend. Reid tries to maintain a professional relationship, but can’t deny his heart break. Inspired by Already Gone, a cover by Sleeping at Last.

Notes: Welp. I can’t resist putting my boys through as much pain as possible and Spencer is no exception. I was actually inspired by a pair of imagines I did for Bellamy Blake a couple of years ago, so I recommend checking those out as well. As always, let me know what you think and what you look forward for in part two!

Warnings: Plenty of angst and violence

More Criminal Minds: HERE

It never would have worked out right

We were never meant for do or die

You had finally let it happen. You’d let your feelings cloud your judgement and nearly got a hostage killed. Throwing your badge down on your desk, you hunched over it, hands gripping the wooden edge and breathing heavily. You wanted to break something, anything, but most of all you wanted to punch the wall until your knuckles split.

The rest of the team walked by your desk silently. They each knew you were beating yourself up, but they collectively decided it’d be best to let you cool off before anybody said anything. Even Hotch just gave you a reassuring nod and went to his office to fill out paperwork. While the group all moved on, one person remained. The one person you couldn’t look at right now.

“Not now, Reid.” You snapped, jerking your head up to see his concerned eyes. You had hoped that your aggressive tone would make him steer clear, but he stood his ground.

“You know what happened wasn’t your fault-”

“Don’t you start on me too.” You fell back into your chair, wanting to just disappear into the floor.

“Can we at least talk?” Spencer’s quiet and hurt voice was breaking you and you just wanted to shut it out. You buried your face in your hands and felt his hand on your shoulder. You melted into his touch, your body giving in while your heart still ached over your mistake. You knew what you had to do. It was the only way to ensure nothing like today ever happened again.

“Yeah, let’s go talk.” You said suddenly, heading to the elevator. Spencer followed you hesitantly, his face still painted with worry and confusion. As soon as the doors closed, he spoke.

“I understand that you are upset about how things happened, but we still saved a young girl today.”

“No, Prentiss saved that girl. I almost let her die.” The elevator started its descent and you felt your body pulling you down with it. The weight on your chest was crushing you and while part of you knew that Spencer was the only one that could lift it off of you, you couldn’t afford to be that selfish anymore.

“Y/N, that wasn’t your fault.” He reached out for you, but you pulled away. You kept your eyes forward, avoiding the wounded look in his eyes.

“Yes. It was. Reid, the unsub got to me by using you.”

“W-what do you mean?” His eyes widened.

“He could tell that we’re together. Somehow, he knew and he used that against me. He told me everything he would do to you and I almost killed him.” You balled your fists at your sides, your mind running through everything that psycho had threatened to do to Spencer. “I almost killed him and lost that little girl because I couldn’t control myself. If Prentiss hadn’t found her in time…”

“Y/N,” This time, when he grabbed your hands, you didn’t back away. He brought them up to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles- bruised from your struggle with the unsub, “it was one mistake. You hesitated. Agents hesitate all the time when they’re in a situation like that.”

“Not us, Reid. Not me.” You started to pull away, but his hands gripped yours. He wasn’t rough, but it was enough to keep you in place.

“That’s another thing,” He started, his voice sounding more hurt than before, “why do you keep calling me Reid?” He was right. Like J.J., you always called him Spence, or Spencer, even before you’d started seeing each other. You never called him Reid like the rest of the team. Spencer let go of your hands so he could put a hand on your cheek. “Something else is wrong.”

“Yeah, Spence, it is.” You resisted the urge to lean into his touch. Instead, you stepped away from it. “We can’t do this anymore.” You kept your expression cold and collected, even if you were shattered within. Spencer’s face fell, eyes filling with even more confusion and pain.

“What?”

“Come on, Reid. We were kidding ourselves into thinking this would work. There’s a reason team members aren’t supposed to hook up.”

“We aren’t just ‘hooking up’, Y/N. We understand each other and-and we make each other better at our job, not worse. We’ve made it work. That doesn’t have to change.”

“You’re supposed to be the logical one, right?” You snapped. “Tell me the logic in us staying together.” He had tears in his eyes now and you had to fight to hold your guard up.

“I love you.” He said softly. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. He just kept looking at you in that way that made you want to hold him and say you were sorry. But you couldn’t. Not this time. “Logic isn’t a part of it.”

“That’s the problem.” You put as much anger into your words as you could. It was the final piece for him and a tear escaped onto his cheek. You tore your eyes away, looking down at the pavement. “I have paperwork to do.”

You kept yourself from all out running until you got inside. You didn’t have the patients for the elevator, so you just sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time and tripping more than once. You kept a straight face until you closed the door to Garcia’s office.

“Hey girl, what’s-” She started, but immediately stopped when you threw your arms around her and started to sob.

I want you to know, that it doesn’t matter

Where we take this road

But someone’s gotta go

You were never sure if he was looking at you because you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You’d spent the weekend at Penelope’s house, bawling and convincing yourself that you did the right thing because you knew that even one moment of hesitation, and you would be at his apartment begging him to forgive you.

Sensing the tension at the table, Morgan and Prentiss exchanged an uncomfortable look. Hotch had called you in on another case, but Rossi was stuck in traffic so you were forced to wait in a painfully awkward silence.

“Jeez, kid, what’s going on with you?” Morgan looked at Reid, trying to get a read of what might be bothering him.

“Nothing’s going on with me.” He replied coolly, keeping his gaze on the smooth surface of the desk. You felt Morgan’s inquiring stare turn to you, but you kept your eyes forward, desperately hoping Rossi would get there soon.

“Sorry I’m late,” He entered the room with a scowl and took a seat with the rest of the team. “Damn roadwork.”

“Alright, everyone,” J.J. began, passing out the files as she went around the table. Her hand briefly grazed your shoulder in a sign of sympathy. Somehow, she always knew. “Local authorities in Maine found the bodies of two women who had been reported missing two weeks ago. Their wrists showed signs of being bound, probably with duct tape, and they suffered multiple wounds to the chest. The M.E. thinks it was an arrow.”

“Bow hunting?” Prentiss suggested.

“They said from the looks of the injuries, the arrow had to have been shot from a distance, so hunting is a possibility.”

“Why shoot them more than once?” Morgan wondered, taking a look at the crime scene photos.

“There’s one more thing.” J.J. sighed, clicking to a new picture on the screen. It was a smiling woman holding a child. “Rachel Bratton, 32, was reported missing a week after the first two victims. Police didn’t find her with the others so-”

“The unsubs might be holding her somewhere.” Hotch finished grimly. “Alright, everyone. Let’s move. Plane leaves in fifteen minutes.”

Everyone hurried to grab their things from their desks. You just wanted to get out of that room. Before you grabbed your bag, however, you heard a quiet voice.

“You aren’t even going to talk to me?” Spencer wondered, his voice sounded soft and broken. “I thought we could at least be friends.”

“Reid, don’t do this now.” You begged. If he kept this up, you would break too and you couldn’t afford for that to happen. His jaw clenched and he reached into his jacket pocket.

“Here.” He held out a closed fist, slowly opening his fingers to reveal a small golden star. It was your favorite hair pin. “You left this at my apartment. I thought you might want it back.” You picked up the small metal clip, running your fingers along the points.

“Spence…”

“I’ll see you on the plane.” He snapped, snatching up his own bag and heading out. You cursed to yourself, shoving the pin into your pocket and following the team out to go to the airport.

You found a seat to yourself and focused on looking over the case files despite the aching feeling in your chest. By the time the plane was ready to take off, everyone had found places and a blonde-framed face appeared in front of you.

“Alright, spill.” J.J. ordered, crossing her arms over her chest. You sighed, keeping your eyes on the M.E.’s report.

“I’m fine, Jen.”

“Come on, don’t give me that. You’re lucky I convinced Morgan to back off. He was ready for a full on interrogation.”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N, everybody knows something happened between you and Spence. You’ve been distant from everyone. He has been burying his head in books every spare second when he isn’t painfully looking at you.” She was blunt because it made you listen. “We’re worried.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about. We got into a little fight. Friends fight.”

“Just friends?” She raised a brow. She always knew. You leaned back in your seat, defeated.

“We dated for a while, but it got in the way of work so I broke things off.” You finally admitted, trying to read her face for a reaction. “Happy?” She frowned sympathetically.

“How long were you together?” She asked. Just thinking about it still stung.

“Almost a year.”

“And you two didn’t tell anyone this whole time?” She gasped. You shook your head.

“We knew that Hotch wouldn’t approve.” You turned to the team as they got ready to make a plan. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.” Just saying the words made the lump in your throat bigger.

Hotch briefed everyone on their focus and where each member would be headed. You would be meeting with the missing woman’s fiancé. Along with Reid.

“Shouldn’t I go with Morgan and Rossi to the dump sight? I feel like I can be more helpful there than talking to the distressed fiancé.” Reid said, his gaze slipping in your direction. Hotch just blinked in annoyance.

“If we can understand Rachel’s routine, we can figure out how and where she was abducted. I need you to work on the geological profile.” He said sternly. He wasn’t oblivious to the awkwardness on the plane, but it wasn’t remotely on his list of problems. Reid didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting.

I didn’t come here to hurt you

Now I can’t stop

“I still feel like it’s my fault.” Brendon Nathonson sat with his head in his hands. “I was in a rush to get to work so I didn’t stop to see if she came back from her run that morning. I should have checked.”

“Does Rachel run every morning?” You asked, your tone sympathetic and soothing. You’d lost count of how many grieving or panicked loved-ones you’d spoken to over the years. It was one of the common parts of the job, but sitting next to Spencer made it feel different. Brendon nodded.

“She was a track star in high school. Guess she never grew out of it, right?” He sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Do you have any idea where these psychos could be keeping her?”

“That’s actually what you might be able to help us with, Mr. Nathonson.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we can figure out exactly where Rachel was taken, we can compare it to where the other two women were taken and found and possibly create a geological profile that could help us narrow down where the unsubs may operate out of.” Reid explained. The poor man still looked incredibly confused so you translated.

“He means that these guys probably have an area that they’re comfortable working in, meaning both where they take their victims and where they may be keeping them.”

“Oh god,” Brendon cried, covering his eyes with his hand. “You know, we kept pushing it back? The wedding. It was supposed to be in June, but then her sister couldn’t make it so we made it October, but then my best friend got sick. And now I might never get to marry her.”

“We are going to do everything we can to bring Rachel home, Mr. Nathonson.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the presence beside you was making your heart beat out of your chest.

“She’s my everything, you know?” Brendon finally looked up again. “When you lose that… it’s like losing a part of yourself.”

When the interview was over, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Everything that Brendon Nathonson said was searing itself into your brain, echoing around and around like a bad song on repeat. You slammed the door of the main office, making sure no one was already in there. You pressed your forehead against the cool wood of the door, trying to calm yourself down. This was why you wanted to end things to begin with. You couldn’t control your emotions around him. Even now, despite the case, all you could think about was him and how much he hated you.

A quiet knock startled you. You jumped back from the door, and forced yourself to calm down. Spencer slowly stepped inside, closing the door again behind him.

“I saw you run in here.” He started softly.

“I didn’t run.” You scoffed, more frustrated with yourself than anything else. “You probably need some time to do the geological profile. I’ll call Hotch and tell him what Nathonson said-” You started to leave, but his hand gently grabbed your arm.

“Wait.” He pleaded, those perfect eyes staring deeply into yours. “Can we just talk?”

“Spence…” You trailed off. Frankly, it’s all you had wanted to do. He at least deserved that. You blew out a heavy sigh and sat down. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to focus on this case because of all of this.” You ran a hand down your face.

“Neither have I.” Spencer sat down across from you, placing his hand on top of yours. “All I can think about is you.” Before, whenever he was with you, he thought clearer, focused more, and noticed every little detail of a case. Now, all he could think about was how much he missed you.

“Once we get through this case, I promise that we’ll talk, okay?” There was so much you wanted to say right there, but you couldn’t find the words. I still love you was all that came to mind. Spencer nodded.

“Then let’s make sure we solve this.” His awkward, crooked smile made you laugh and the two of you got to work trying to find Rachel Bratton.

You know that I love you so

I love you enough to let you go

The team circled the building, ready to go in. You were with Reid and Rossi, guns drawn as you went in the back door. It was an old meat processing plant that was located right in the middle of both the abduction and dump sights. Without Reid, you wouldn’t have been able to find it. You checked the back warehouse before moving onto another room, but not before you noticed something. A big metal door was cracked open just enough for you to get a peek inside.

“Guys, over here.” You signaled, seeing Rachel Bratton sitting on the far side of a cage just inside the room.

“Please help me.” She begged. You tried to pry the door open more, but it wouldn’t budge. The opening was just wide enough that you could barely slide through, but you would have to take off your vest to fit. Before Rossi or Reid could say anything, you had undone the straps and were sliding through the narrow gap.

“Is anybody in there with you?” You asked, still keeping your gun ready. Rachel shook her head.

“No.” She gulped back a sob. “No, they went out that hatch.”

“Y/N, maybe you should wait-”

“I’m fine, Reid.” You glanced back at him as you finally slipped into the room. “She said that they went outside. Let Hotch know.”

Reluctantly, Reid followed Rossi back outside in pursuit of the killers. You made quick work of the lock on the cage and helped Rachel stand up. She collapsed against you, sobbing and thanking you over and over again.

“Can you walk?” You asked gently. She nodded and you approached the hatch on the floor. Sure enough, it led down to the forest floor. You helped her down and kept your weapon out in front of you, keeping Rachel close behind.

“Y/N!” Reid shouted, joining you again. Rossi flanked Rachel’s other side, keeping his eyes on the trees.

“Have they found them?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Rossi shook his head. “Alright, we need to get back to the car so we can get Rachel to the hospital. Let’s move.”

The four of you moved cautiously towards the front of the warehouse. The trees surrounding you rustled and groaned in the midwestern winds. You thought it was a trick of light at first, but when you saw the shining tip of an arrow, you aimed your weapon and fired. Mikah Roman tumbled across the forest floor towards you. Rachel screamed and latched onto Spencer.

“Mikah Roman, you’re under arrest for the murder of Abbie Stockwell and Bonnie Andrews and the kidnapping of Rachel Bratton.” You yanked Mikah’s arms behind his back, causing him to scream out. The shot in his arm was gushing blood as you cuffed his wrists.

Rossi’s gaze jerked upwards suddenly and Reid pushed away from Rachel, calling out your name. You whirled around to see what they were looking at.

“No!” Spencer screamed, watching the arrow enter the center of your chest. You didn’t hear your own gasp over the sound of Rossi’s gun shot, taking out the second killer without hesitation. Funnily enough, you couldn’t hear Rachel’s screaming sobs. You just heard a small voice in your ear. Arms were holding you up off the ground, pulling you into their lap. When did you fall? Why was your shirt wet?

“Spencer…” You started, but your words came out garbled and breathy. What was happening? Why was your chest so sore?

“Shhh, don’t talk.” Spence put his hands on your wound. Why did he look so scared?

“W-what’s going on?” You gasped, the pressure from his hands making you cry out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He muttered, blood quickly coating his hands. Rossi was lifting Micah to his feet and speaking into the radio in a panicked voice. That’s when Spencer started yelling. “Somebody help! Help us! Agent down! Somebody help us! Please, she needs help!” You finally understood what was going on, the initial shock of your injury clearing from your mind.

“Spencer…”

“Somebody help!”

“Spence.” You reached up and touched his cheek. “I-I’m okay.”

“Help is on the way.” Through the sound of his heart pounding, he could hear footsteps approaching. The rest of the team gathered around, Prentiss stopping cold at the sight in front of her. Spencer smiled with delusional relief. “See, Hotch and Morgan and Prentiss are all here. They can help you-” He looked back down and stopped.

Your head was tilted back, a small trail of blood trickled down from your mouth. Your eyes blankly staring up at the clouded, grey sky. His crimson stained hands reached for your face, smearing the blood on the skin of your cheek. He recoiled from the sight, instead wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him.

Morgan made a step towards Reid, the younger agent’s quiet sobs growing louder and louder until they were unbearable. Hotch put a hand out to stop him. He knew that Reid needed this moment. He needed to say goodbye.

And I want you to know, you couldn’t have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I’m already gone

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagines #penelope garcia #j.j.#criminal mainds #dr. spencer reid #Matthew Grey Gubler #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #death #already gone #sleeping at last #song based imagines #angst

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otterbagel · 4 years ago

Text

The Reunion (Part 1) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: There are two parts to this! Next part should be out next week. I'll probably start spacing out my posts after this so I don't get burnt out like last time. Also, didn't get to edit this one as much as I should've; the whole thing ended up pretty long and would take a long time everytime I tried to edit it. Can't believe it took me this long to finish one about Simon!!!)

"Hey, this is quite the unusual find, you gotta admit."

Your eyebrow raised without hesitation, your eyes looking down to check your shoes. "Not really," you remarked softly, eyes going back up to meet the object of the discussion: a PL600 android.

The salesman, who had uncomfortably started hounding you for the sale after you had curiously drifted towards the humanoid, was gesturing towards it flippantly with a toothy grin. "At this price?! Tell me, no, tell me where you found one this cheap— in this good a condition?"

Your mouth automatically frowned. The arms were covered by a dark undershirt that made most of the skin unseeable— any damage not on the face and hands wouldn't be factored into the buying purchase. You had a feeling this clothing choice was intentional.

"Just three hundred bucks!" The seller's round face turned into your line of sight. You quickly looked away out of discomfort.

Your eyes landed onto the android's clear blue ones. You hadn't looked very closely at any androids before, despite walking amongst them nearly every day. Did they all look this lifelike?

Maybe you were looking way too into it.

You swallowed, aggressively fumbling for your wallet with a grunt of annoyance. "Okay, fine. Three hundred."

With a pleased noise, the seller took off with your card, waving it in the air between two of his fingers.

You crossed your arms beside the android, who didn't seem to take any notice of what had just transpired.

…

Reality had begun to hit you like a truck on the way home.

By the time you opened the door to your tiny house, you realized just how big of a rash decision you had just made.

The android stood behind you quietly and without complaint as you released the door handle, letting the door softly bang against the wall. You stared dumbly into your own house, coat hanging limply from one of your dangling arms as you searched your brain for a solution.

You frowned, shaking your head rapidly. "I have no room for this."

"Excuse me—"

You jumped at the android's sudden intrusion into your own self reprimand, a small noise of fright escaping you before you could even begin to think of holding it back.

"—would you like me to get started?"

"Uh, yeah yeah yeah, uh… do whatever you want," you waved it off awkwardly, holding a hand to your chest as you attempted to catch your breath. You hurried inside, embarrassed of the whole situation.

You sat down on the couch as the android closed the door and walked past you and into the kitchen.

Without turning it on, you stared at the TV as your fingertips rubbed against your face in nervousness.

That had been such an impulse buy. You couldn't believe you had done that.

The faucet turned on for a moment. You think you had put a cup in there, but there wasn't much else to clean.

It seemed to be working properly. The guy who sold it was certainly odd and abrasive, but all in all it was a pretty good deal. Usually they were more than twice as much; newer models so expensive that the thought of you owning one was impossible. Even if it had some cosmetic damages, that was a small issue compared to its functionality.

Trying to ignore the strange new entity in the house, you flipped on the TV. It was the news.

There was some story about a recent fire that had decimated a small apartment building on the outskirts of Detroit. The police said it likely had something to do with Red Ice, although most evidence would probably be destroyed.

The android had finished whatever it was doing in the kitchen and had quietly begun watching the TV from the archway.

You looked at it as it parted its lips in preparation to speak. "Are you a fan of the news?"

"Sort of," you chuckled, looking back to the screen. "I work at a newstation— not this one, but I like checking it out from time to time."

The android nodded, continuing to watch the screen as it held its hands politely behind its back.

You looked it over, getting that feeling of nervousness again. "W-what's your name?" You blurted out quietly and without any grace.

It blinked at you, the LED spinning blue for a second. "My previous owners named me Simon. Would you like to change my name?"

You shook your head to yourself. "Do you like your name?"

It squinted at you in confusion before returning to its natural, composed look. "It's good," it responded.

Although you tried to maintain a jovial body language, you weren't doing a good job. "Great! Si… Simon is a great name," you chirped out awkwardly.

"Thank you," Simon replied, giving a small head bow.

You turned your head away from it as you felt your face grow warm with embarrassment.

What on Earth was happening to you?

…

You had been having a strange dream about work when you heard someone calling your name.

"...huh…?" you called out groggily.

Your name again. "...I think you're going to be late for work at this rate…"

Your eyes fluttered open. Simon was fiddling with his hands as he held them in front of his chest, eyes moving between you and the clock beside the bed.

It said 8:32.

The comforter was flung nearly off the bed as you jumped up in a panic. "Oh geez, yeah I'm gonna be late…" Random clothes filled your arms that you grabbed from your drawers as you prepared to go to work. "Thanks for waking me."

Simon quietly made his way over to you as you tried finding a pair of socks. "I didn't hear you walking around this morning," he said with a chuckle. "And where you stayed up later than usual last night… I figured…"

A laugh escaped you as you headed off towards the bathroom to get ready.

He had been living here… maybe three months? It had seemed like a much longer time than that. In that amount of time, things had definitely changed between you two.

Despite it being his intended purpose, it felt strange to have someone doing all your housework for you. It became an odd ritual pretty quickly: once you got home, you would work on chores together. Not that there were many— that was one of the perks of having a small house— but it just made you feel better about the whole thing.

The whole process was a bit cathartic for you; away from the hustle and bustle of the busy, stressful life at the newstation and into a warm, domestic one.

You hurried to the front door to slip on your shoes, Simon leaving his spot on the couch to see you off.

"I think I'll make it on time," you joked as you looked up at him. "Thanks again."

"No problem…" he responded quietly, struggling to retain eye contact with you.

As you rose to your feet, he gave you a brief hug. Your face immediately began to burn bright red.

"Have… have a good day at work…" he stuttered out before walking in quick strides to the kitchen.

You were still frozen in place by the time he exited your vision. "Y-you too…" you blurted out before fumbling out the door, realizing your linguistic blunder before you had even closed the door.

As you headed down the street, you let your hands touch your heated face.

…

You had nearly run home out of excitement.

It had been such a small thing, but the prospects of your future career had your mind going nuts.

After fumbling to get the key in the door and tossing it open, you slung your coat off your arms in a fluid motion. "Simon! Simon! You won't believe it!"

He was sitting on the couch— like he usually had been over the past year— engaged in some overly dramatic show you weren't particularly fond of. His eyes were wide at your sudden entrance. "Yes?"

You let the door make its way closed before you kicked it shut behind you, holding your arms out. "They said they liked my article!"

Simon stared for a moment before his LED flashed in excitement. "THE article?" He sat up on the edge of his seat, smiling at you as he was filled with a wave of positive energy.

"Yeah!" You nodded. "Not to get you too excited, but they're showing it to some of the higher ups, but it looks like I might get my own schedule slot soon!"

"Oh wow!" He exclaimed, rising to his feet and taking you into his arms to lift you up for a split second. "I knew it would happen! I'm so proud!"

You erupted into a fit of giggles as he held you, almost enjoying his praise as much as your own success. "Thanks Simon, I couldn't have done it without you."

He released you, letting his hands rest against your sides. "That's not true," he responded quietly, his face red as he looked to the side.

With a warm smile, you nodded to him. "Yes," you drawed out for effect. "You even came up with the idea. And, not to mention, the moral support."

He stepped back a little, crossing his arms as he attempted to hide his expression of happiness. "You're too kind."

The TV played in the silence, Simon fiddling with the edge of one of his sleeves as he pulled it down.

Your mind raced as you looked at his hand, debating on bringing it up right now when the mood was so light.

"They mentioned… uh... increasing my pay," you began, watching his expression for any hint of distress. "I thought that maybe… we could finally… you know… get that fixed…"

His hands trailed along his sleeve as he nodded to himself, seemingly lost in thought. "Yeah," he responded. "That would be nice… but it would be so expensive… are you sure?"

It had taken a few weeks to first see it, and even longer for you to see the full extent of the damage, but your initial thoughts had been correct. The long sleeves had been put on him for a reason, and it had seemed as though it had gradually become a personal choice as well.

His forearms and biceps had a lot of physical damage, certainly from his previous owners.

Luckily, it had been almost purely cosmetic. Aside from a few light dents and scratches to his actual body, it was just a matter of getting the covering fixed. As of now, the white sheen of his android body was always visible underneath his sleeves.

You wrung your hands together out of nervousness. "I just know how you said that you wanted it fixed," you took in a sharp inhale. "It won't be a problem to actually do, I've already been saving for a while…"

He smiled, rushing in to hug you again. You, a bit caught off guard this time, was frozen in place.

"I'd like to put the past behind me," he said as you finally came to and hugged him back, albeit still in a bit of a shock. "I think this is the first step."

As you embraced, you couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement and anxiety.

#dbh x reader #dbh simon #dbh simon x reader

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ally22042000 · 4 years ago

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BTS Reaction: Someone breaking into your house

Hey. I hope you enjoy this one, it’s been in my drafts for a year 😊 It is my first fic/reaction. I am sorry for any spelling and grammer mistakes.

Fluff, Angst, Smut (Just a little)

Kim Seokjin

The both of you were on your way home from dinner. The past few weeks had been very stressful for the both of you. Jin had a comeback coming his way and you had multiple deadlines to reach. So, the both of you though it was time to give yourselves a break and go out for some couple quality time. It wasn’t until Jin had parked the car in front of your house, noticing the light that was shining trough the curtains, that you got that weird feeling in your stomach telling you something was wrong.

“Die we leave the lights on?” you questioned, interrupting him mid-sentence. Jin’s brows furrowed, trying to remember how the house looked when you left.

“Stay in the car” was all he said, before he opened his door and made his way to your front door. You watched has he climbed the three little steps in front of your door, before he pushed at it slightly, the wood instantly sliding back. It wasn’t locked. Shocked you follow Jin’s frame with your eyes, which was disappearing in your house. Holding your breath, you waited for what was going to happen next. Another light was flicked on, before a person came bolting outside, running down the little steps. Whoever that person was, definitely wasn’t smart. Slipping on the ice that covered the floor, he fell, hitting his head, knocking himself out. You opened the door, sliding out of you seat and running over to the man laying unconscious on the ground. Jin followed soon, standing in the door way with a frying pan in his hand, ready to swing.

“Is he dead?” was the first thing the idol asked. You threw a glare at him before descending your fingers to the pulse point of the man. Shaking your head as soon as you felt a pulse.

“I bet you’re happy now that I didn’t put salt on the steps this morning when you told me to.” If you weren’t still shocked form the events that just happened you would have thrown your shoe at him, wiping of that stupid smile of his. But you settled for another glare before calling the police.

Min Yoongi

It was 10:32 pm when Yoongi finished the last thing on his To-Do list for the day. Closing the file, he just worked on for the past two hours, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his muscles. A buzzing sound from beside him got his attention and he couldn’t help the lazy smile when he saw you picture appearing on the screen.

“Hey baby. I just finished. I’ll be home in forty, alright?” He was in the procced of shutting down his computer, when he heard you low and breathy voice.

“Yoongi, listen, there are two people in the house. I think they broke in. I can hear them in the living room. I don’t know what to do.” He could hear your voice quivering towards the end. He didn’t bother with the computer anymore, focus solely on you.

“Where are you?” he asked, while grabbing his keys and leaving the room. Door open for everybody, but that was the last of his concerns.

“In our bedroom” came the answer immediately.

“Lock the door and hid in the bathroom. Lock the door there two.” he commanded. You did as he told you. Hiding in the bathtub as soon as you made sure the last door was locked.

“Okay, I’m there. What now?” scared of the outcome of all this, tears started to gather in your eyes. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat and hear it in your head.

“Now, I’m going to hang up so I can call the police, okay baby? I’m still too far away to help you and maybe they are faster.” That was the first time he cursed himself for wanting to rent an apartment so far away from the studio. Without another word he hung up the phone, calling the police immediately and explaining the situation, while he was still driving down the empty roads. Trying not to kill anyone or get killed. They told him they would be there as fast as possible.

You heard the sirens coming closer and closer, feeling slightly safer. You heard them break in through the front door, the robbers still trying to grab as much as they can, not even realising that they were doomed until it was too late. The next thing you heard is what finally made you realise that you were save.

“Y/N? Y/N!” You heard Yoongi banging on the bedroom door. Quickly getting out of the bathtub, unlocking the two doors just as fast. Yoongi’s arms engulfed you the second he laid eyes on you. And that was the moment you couldn’t hold back any longer. Surrounded by his scent, mint and coffee, you couldn’t control your emotions any longer. Tears were rolling down your face, soaking the male’s sweats shirt. And Yoongi held you through it, pulling you closer and whispered over and over that you were save and had nothing to worry. And when you finally calmed down you opened your eyes and looked down to the ground. Not able to stop the little giggle escaping your mouth.

“Babe, where are you shoes?”

Jung Hoseok

There are no words to explain the fear that shot through Hobi’s body when he saw the red and blue lights shining in front of your shared apartment. There were police officers running around questioning people and pushing others out of the way. Slowly his feet moved one after the other walking through the little crowed that had gathered. He was about to pass them when a police woman pushed him back into the crowed.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you’re not allowed any closer. Please stay put.” She let a hand on his chest to make sure he got the message.

“No, you don’t understand, I life here. That’s my home. Where is Y/N?” he explained, constantly trying to get past the small woman.

“Sir, please, follow the instructions or I’ll have to use force.” A threating comment was about to leave Hoseok lips that he will be the one using force if she didn’t tell him were the love of his life was this instant. But before he could do any of that he heard the voice that could make everything better.

“Hobi, oh my god, Hobi. It’s okay, please let him through. He’s my boyfriend” you screamed as soon as you laid eyes on your dancer. The woman in front of him reluctantly moved out of the way but kept a watchful eye on the young man. But Hoseok’s attention was only on you. The second he could, he captures you in his arms. A hand on the back of your head, pressing you to him.

“Are you alright? What happened?” he asked.

“Someone broke into our home while I was in the shower. Hobi, everything is gone. TV, Laptops, my phone and wallet. Thankfully one of the neighbours saw what happened and called the police. I wouldn’t even know how I could have informed them.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He said, grabbing your hands, making him look at him. “I really don’t care that our TV is gone or any of the other stuff, okay? That’s renewable, but you aren’t. I’m so glad nothing happened to you.” And one more time you found yourself buried in his arms, a place you never want to leave.

Kim Namjoon

You and your husband where awoken by your child’s loud cries. Slowly you rose to your feet, sitting at the edge of the bed for a moment, trying to regain your balance and vision. Your phone on the nightstand told you it was 02:00 am. With a heavy sighing you got up from your place. Moving out of the room and down the hall to your four-month old’s bedroom. A freezing breeze greeted you in the hallway, forcing you to pull Namjoon’s shirt lower. Your pace picked up, having the strong feeling, that something wasn’t alright. Your baby’s screams grew louder as you walked into the room.

Namjoon’s name left your lips in the form of a scream, while you ran to the bed of your child. Lifting the crying baby up and moving away from the broken window. You heard you husbands feet banging against the wood floor, running as fast as possible. The both of you turned on every single light you owned. Or rather Namjoon turning on the lights and you walking behind him with your baby girl still in your arms. The little one followed her father with a curious look in her eyes. Not yet sure if she liked the new game.

After being sure nobody was in the house, you called the police, which arrived shortly after. They took a lot of picture form the crime scene and asked the both of you a lot of questions. Almost two hours later, the three of you lay down in you king sized bed. The broken window was covered with a blanked and tape. You would call someone to fix it in two hours, when you had to get up anyway.

You looked at your husband’s face, the worried stare he had when he entered the baby room had not left him.

“We could have lost her tonight. We, we-“,he couldn’t finish, before the tears were streaming down his face. The thought of what could have happened to you daughter making both your throats tighten.

Park Jimin

Tears were streaming down Jimin’s face as he held on to your pale hand. He couldn’t stop them and J-Hope’s hand on his shoulder did little to lessen the pain. For Jimin it was his fault.

The reason why you were laying in a hospital bed right now, machines breathing for you. That was all on him. He was the one who said you should go ahead and that he would follow with the grocery bags. You insisted that you’d help him, but he didn’t let you. Why didn’t he let you? If he would have, you wouldn’t have been the first in the house. You wouldn’t have been shot by the guy robbing your house of its belongings. And you most defiantly wouldn’t be laying in that hospital bed right now, fighting for your life.

So Jimin saw no other person that he could blame, but him. And the only person who could assure him and make him see that it was in fact not his mistake, not his wrong doing. That person was laying in a come right no. Fixed heart beating in your chest and broken boyfriend gripping your hand.

“Please, Y/N, please come back to me. I’m sorry, please. I need you.”

Kim Taehyung

Tae’s face was lit up by his significant smile, as soon as he saw your face appear on the screen. Hurrying to answer the call, not able to contain his happiness at the prospect of talking to you.

“Hey honey. How are you? I miss you so much, you can’t even imaging. Okay maybe you can because you miss me too, but- wait, are that police sirens in the back. Y/N what happened?” By now he was standing in his room, one hand was holding his phone, the other running through his hair, slipping of his hat in the process.

“Hey, babe. I need you to calm down. It’s nothing bad, alright? Just breath.” It’s interesting how your voice always managed to calm him down. Even hundreds of miles away, the melody of you words still had a huge influence on him. However, the second your next words left your mouth, all kind of calmness flew out the window and was replace by a stultifying wariness.

“I was watching TV in our bedroom, when I heard some noise form downstairs. Someone broke into the house and tried to steal our stuff.”

“Tried? Y/N, please don’t tell me you did anything stupid?”

“Okay, first things first, I never do anything thing stupid. Second things second, when I opened the door to our bedroom, to figure out where the noise was coming from, Yeanton ran past me and scared the invader. After that he left immediately. A few things are missing, but not as much as would’ve if Yeanton wouldn’t have been here.” After you finished your little story time, Tae’s heartrate had regulated itself back to a normal beat. A proud smile forming on his face.

“Oh my god, he did. I knew he would protect his mommy if it was necessary. Tell him he did well. We need to buy him lots of treats for his heroic action.”

After the initial shock was gone the both of you talked about the tour and planed what you would do when he came back. But the second Yeanton jumped into your lap, barking to get you attention, you were forgotten and had to listen to Tae talking through the phone to his dog. And Yeanton who stared at the phone confused, barking from time to time. And one more time you realised how happy you were with you little family. The boys always looking after you and vice versa.

Jeon Jungkook

Your back met the wall next to your door with a low thump. Jungkook’s body pressing you into the surface immediately. His lips were still connected to yours, tongues fighting for dominance. You could feel his arms flailing around, as he tried to find his keys. A frustrated sound left his throat, when he didn’t find the object. He released your lips, taking a step back and continuing his search. A whine left your lips at the loss of contact.

That’s when you took a lock at the door next to you, noticing, how it was slightly open. You stretched a hand out to the male in front of you, planting it against his chest, making him stop. Jungkook looked at you, confused, why you would stop him. Although it was hard for him to focus, with all the blood running southwards at the moment, he notices the unordinary scene in front of him. Without a second thought, he walked towards the door, pushing it open. You hooked your hand into one of the loops of his trousers, hiding behind him. Your apartment was covered in black, only the moon providing enough vision to make out your furniture. The both of you walked deeper into the apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible. A movement to right caught your attention, turning your head, a loud gasped escaped you. A man was standing in your kitchen, a knife in his hand. Jungkook was alarmed by your reaction, rotating the both of you, so he was standing like a shield before you.

“Please, take everything you want, but don’t hurt us.” Jungkook’s voice was strong, not letting the man know, how much his appearance and the weapon in his hand scared him. When the man took a step in your direction, the both of you took one back. Jungkook’s hand setting on your waist, pushing you farther behind him.

“Jungkook? Y/N?” You heard the voice from a sleeping Jimin, tumbling down the stairs. For a moment both of your attention were on the small feet that came into view. When you turned back around, the mystery man was gone. And you had never been so thankful for the older boy’s heart break, wich caused him to move in with you. Not wanting to know, what could have happened, if he didn’t come done stairs the moment he did.

�

#bts #bts reactions #bts x reader #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts army #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut

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someguynamedstevewrites · 5 years ago

Text

My Roommate is an Apparition: Saturday Morning Cartoon Complaints

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

————————————-

There once was a lonely apparition that haunted an apartment in an old building. No one knew where it came from, how it came to be, or why it was there. In fact, nobody knew the spooky specter actually existed since nobody could see it. Eventually, the apparition met someone who could see them, and they were no longer lonely. But before that, there were a few instances where the incorporeal creature made contact with human beings.

This is one of those stories.

It was September 20th, 1997, and Terrence “Terry” Vanderbrook was working as an operator for a local CBS Network Affiliate. He spent his days making sure that people calling into the station were directed to where they needed to go, and also screening out any unwanted calls. Regardless if they were folks calling in to speak to the news team about breaking news, people wanting to partner with the station for a special event, or for any other reason, Terry took care of them all.

One call, in specific, would go down as one Terry would remember for the rest of his years. (Mostly because he wasn’t sure if it actually happened or not).

“Thank you for calling your local CBS station, W.O.-“ Terry began to say before being cut off.

“Where...?” came a voice that sounded like breath on the wind.

“I’m sorry?” Terry asked.

“Where... are they...?” the raspy voice asked.

In the couple of years Terry had been a phone operator, he received more than his fair share of crank calls. Some were very obvious from the get go, while others were subtle and not quite as apparent. On occasion, a call might start off sounding like a prank, but actually turn out to be a legitimate call. Terry learned that the hard way after being berated by a 76- year old woman who was calling to complain about a breaking news report interrupting Diagnosis: Murder. On that day, Terry learned never to underestimate the appeal of Dick Van Dyke to seniors.

Still, uncertain if this was a prank or not, Terry did exactly what he was trained to do: proceed in a professional and courteous manner while trying to obtain more information to determine the needs of the caller. (At least until he was sure whether this call was genuine or not.)

“What can I help you find today?” Terry responded with a smile in his voice (as outlined in the Employee Handbook for Telephone Operators, page 12).

The raspy voice spoke a little louder to get its point across, “Car... TOONS!!!”

“Cartoons?”

“Where. Are. The. Car. Tooooons!?” the voice demanded.

Terry looked over at the small calendar on his desk. It was Saturday. “Oh! You mean the Saturday Morning Cartoons?”

“Yesssssss...” the voice said with a hiss.

“Give me one second,” Terry said as he began to type away at the keyboard to his Windows 95 work computer. Connecting to the network’s server, Terry began searching for and pulling up the schedule for the day’s channel listings. A memo had circulated around the office not too long ago about changes to the channel lineup this fall, but Terry hadn’t paid too much attention to it. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of the search function for his e-mail just yet.

“I’m... waaaaaaaaaiiiii... tiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg,” the voice said as nasally and obnoxious as possible.

“Hang on, kid, I almost got it,” Terry shot back. At this point, he figured the caller was some kid, probably sick in bed (which would explain the raspy voice), hoping to watch their Saturday Morning Cartoons and having trouble with it. (Terry was way off the mark, but he didn’t know that).

While the inter-network speeds within the CBS station’s computer network were much faster than the new 56 Kbps speeds Terry got on his dial-up modem back home, it still took a while to get to the shared network folder that contained the spreadsheet containing the day’s programming lineup. With a double-click, Terry opened up Excel 95 and saw...

“Oh...”

Terry bit his lip and breathed in through his teeth. He always hated calls like this; calls where he had to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news. The person on the other end of the line NEVER took it well. It would lead to lots of yelling, screaming, and demands to speak to his manager. And that was when Terry was speaking to full grown adults, so he was rightfully concerned about the kind of tantrum a sick child could produce.

“I’m sorry,” Terry said with regret, “but it looks like the CBS Kidz programming block has been replaced with CBS News Saturday Morning and a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show.”

————————————-

Due to the nature of the apparition’s existence, it was debatable whether or not it was actually “alive”. Considering the facts, it had been “born” a few years ago and hadn’t “lived” for very long by the time it made this phone call. Furthermore, during the time in between, it experienced emotions such as happiness, sadness, inquisitiveness, and many more.

But this was the first time the apparition became truly angry!

The apparition was frowning. It’s worth mentioning this, because before now, the apparition had never, ever frowned. Its face was no longer smiling, or expressionless like a confused child, like it had been for every day since the apparition began its existence. It was consciously moving the non-existent muscles on its face to move downward to express just how angry it was. Its sharp teeth were on full display like a snarling beast. To say it was not a pretty sight would have been an understatement.

The ethereal hand that had been twirling the coils of the telephone cord was now clutching the phone book as tightly as it could. Visions of cartoon characters expressing their anger whirled through the apparition’s head as it began to conjugate steam out of its non-existent ears. The apparition could not find the words to express the outrage it felt, so it did something else to vent its frustration.

It made a wooden chair suddenly fly through the air at one-hundred and twenty miles per hour into a wall.

*CRASH*

————————————-

The sound of wood smashing and splintering could be heard over the phone, and nearly made Terry jump out of his chair.

“WHOA! Kid, are you okay!?” Terry asked with genuine concern.

“BAAAAACK!!!” the apparition practically screamed. Its voice had distorted and sounded sinister; carrying a demonic reverb.

“...BRING! THEM! BAAAAAACK!!!”

“Poor kid,” Terry thought to himself, “they are definitely not taking this well.”

If it had been anyone else other than Terry taking that call, the horrific voice over the phone likely would have scared them out of their pants by now. But he was a veteran at handling the phone and this was not the first time someone used a voice distorter on a call. It was the first time a kid had used one (as far as he knew), but Terry had seen the toy commercials for “YakBak” on TV and knew that any kid with one could do funny things to their voice.

“Listen,” Terry said calmly, “I understand you’re disappointed, but that’s no reason to break things and throw a fit. You might hurt yourself or make yourself even sicker.”

————————————-

The frown had vanished from the apparition’s face. In its place was a look of sheer confusion. This was definitely not the reaction the apparition was expecting when they made this phone call.

The last time the apparition used its scary voice was back when the previous apartment tenants were talking about getting rid of their TV. To keep that from happening, the apparition practiced hard on finding the best voice it could mimic that would “persuade” the residents living there at the time to keep it. It even figured out how it could project its voice into any electronic device with a speaker to create an even more haunting effect (and to make sure the people there could actually hear its demands).

It worked, but it worked a little too well.

Shortly after the apparition began to actively haunt its oblivious roommates, the tenants packed up and moved out in a hurry, leaving their furniture and appliances behind. This included the 32” CRT TV that the apparition was fond of, and a landline telephone. The apparition didn’t care much for the phone line since they were happy just having the TV all to themselves twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. (Plus, they didn’t have anyone to call or talk on the phone to, anyway.)

At least they were happy until about a week ago, when the Saturday Morning Cartoons were a complete no show for the first time in years.

But the apparition had seen shows come and go, television programming blocks change for no apparent reason, occasional weather alert bulletins interrupting their cartoons, and some of their favorite cartoons canceled. They learned patience, understanding, and compromise from these experiences. Just because there were no cartoons that week didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be cartoons next week.

Two weeks without cartoons, however, simply would not do.

The apparition scoured the apartment for a phone book, concentrated on solidifying its fingertips to turn pages, located the phone number for the TV station, and dialed. It took a lot of effort for a ghostly being to make a phone call, and it was not about to let its efforts go to waste.

If the scary voice didn’t work, they’d have to take a different approach. It was time for Plan B.

————————————-

“...Sorry,” the apparition apologized, “...please... bring them... back?”

Terry sighed. He had kids of his own, and dealing with them could be a real challenge; especially when he couldn’t give them something they wanted. Once they realized throwing a tantrum fit wouldn’t work, they start trying to “bargain” just like the kid (who wasn’t actually a kid) that was on the phone.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, but it’s out of my hands,” Terry said using his “sympathetic Dad” voice, “I know it stinks, and if I could bring them back, I absolutely would.” After some frantic scrolling through his work e-mail inbox, he finally found the e-mail he was looking for. “But, thing is, we got to follow the rules from the FCC, so-“

“Eff... See... See?” the voice interrupted to ask.

“The Federal Communications Commission,” Terry explained, “You might not have learned about them in school yet, but they’re a part of the government. They make the rules we here at the TV stations got to follow, and one of those rules is to show three hours of educational programming, and the cartoons we had, well...” Terry tried to find a way to let the (not) kid down nicely, “...they just weren’t educational enough. That make sense?”

————————————-

It did not make sense. The Apparition had no idea what the heck the person on the other end of the phone line was talking about. All it knew was that they took away their cartoons and they weren’t going to give them back.

Taking a look at its transparent fingers, the apparition decided it was time to take matters into its own hands. They had tried scaring the person on the other end of the phone and they had tried asking nicely, but now it was time for plan C.

The apparition plunged its fingers into the tiny holes of the phone receiver. The phone was eventually engulfed in the apparition’s being and soon after that, the receiver began to slowly suck the apparition into it.

If someone walked into the room at that moment, and if that person could also see the apparition, they would see the lower half of a person’s body up to about their waist with the upper half crammed into a phone. It looked like a cartoon where someone had taken the receiver of a phone and hit someone over the head with it so hard that it jammed them inside.

Meanwhile, inside the phone, the apparition’s upper body stretched as it squeezed its way through the telephone cables. It wasn’t easy, and the apparition had never tried anything like this before, but it was filled with determination. Following the voice of the person on the other end of the phone, the apparition could feel itself getting closer and closer to its destination.

It smiled a sharp, toothy grin and created sharp claws on its hands in preparation for its arrival. Soon it would wreak havoc against those who had wronged it. They would rue the day they had taken away their source of Saturday Morning joy! It could see a light ahead of itself, and once it finally reached it, the apparition took its mangled, clawed hand and...

————————————-

*scritch*

“Ow,” Terry said as he pulled the phone away from his head. Something had just scratched him. Looking at the phone receiver, Terry blinked and then blinked again as he came to comprehend what he was looking at.

It was a very small, tiny hand with what looked like long fingernails poking out from one of the holes on the receiver. It flailed and strained as if it was trying to reach out but couldn’t get itself through. The closest thing Terry could liken it to was if a mouse or hamster had somehow gotten into the phone and was sticking its paw through the holes on the phone.

It was kind of adorable.

After a few seconds, the hand retracted into the phone. A second after that, Terry could have swore that he saw a tiny head poke out of one of the holes on the receiver. It had long hair, large eyes, no nose, and looked rather irritated. It struggled as it tried to pull itself out of the phone, but it just couldn’t budge.

Terry was quite sure he was seeing things. He wasn’t sure if it was because of something he ate, or from not getting enough sleep. The thought never entered his head that he was looking at a supernatural being that had shrunken its upper torso, shoved and stretched itself through the phone line, and was now trying to crawl its way out the other end. That would have been silly.

After a few more seconds of struggling, the apparition seemed to realize that this was not going to work and silently admitted defeat to itself. It looked up at the (relatively) gigantic face of Terry who was casually looking at the apparition without an ounce of fear, shock, or horror showing on his face. Without really thinking, Terry just looked at the tiny head poking out and just shrugged as though saying, “Sorry, can’t help yah there, bud”.

Dejectedly, the apparition pulled its head back inside the phone as Terry absentmindedly waved goodbye to it.

————————————-

Back in the apartment, the apparition pulled itself out from the phone and sighed. It held the phone up to its earless head to hear what the man on the other end had to say.

“So, uh...” the man said before a hesitant pause, “...I know this is going to sound crazy, but...” another pause as the man on the other end tried to put what just happened into words, “...did you just try and travel through the phones so you could claw at me?”

The apparition looked to the left, then looked to the right, and if it was capable of it, it would have broken out in a nervous sweat. Sheepishly, the apparition responded, “...yes,” with the same tone of voice a child would use if they had been caught eating cookies before dinner.

A slight pause before the man followed back with, “...didn’t really work out for you, did it?”

Again, sounding like a child that knew they were totally busted, the apparition responded, “...nooooo...”

There was another pause on the phone before the man on the other end eventually said, “Well... better luck next time.”

This call was starting to get extremely awkward as the apparition had no idea what was going to happen next.

After about a minute of silence (which is considered taboo among telephone operators) the man on the other end finally asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

This was a battle the apparition had thoroughly lost, and it knew it. It was time to throw in the towel. With a depressed sigh, it responded back, “No... thank you”.

————————————-

Despite not being sure what exactly he just saw, Terry leaned forward in his chair and decided the very least he could do was offer some encouraging words. “I know you’re disappointed, and I get that. I really do. But other TV channels have cartoons too. You can always watch them there.”

“...yeah...” the voice responded.

“It’s not like all the cartoons in the world just suddenly vanished, right?”

“...I suppose...”

Terry was ready to wrap this call up and had his closing spiel all set to go. “We appreciate you caring enough to call in today and while I may not have been able to help you, I do hope you feel better soon. Okay?”

There was a moment of silence before the voice responded back, “...okay...”

“Thank you very much for calling CBS, and have a good rest of your day,” Terry said earnestly.

There was a click signaling the phone on the other end had disconnected. Terry hung up the phone on his end, leaned back in his office chair, and looked up to the ceiling.

At that exact same moment, the person they had been talking to just a minute ago thought the exact same thing as he did.

“Well... that was weird.”

#my roommate is an apparition

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