#sometimes i think about how in a sorority they forced them to circle the parts of their body they hated | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwascum · 3 years

Note

hi cuties :D since your requests are open i'd like to request a mattsun mirror sex (fem!reader) drabble (tbh whatever your comfortable with writing) because mattsun brain rot makes me go brrrrrr

fic: MIRROR SEX Mattsun x fem!reader

♡ pov: sometimes your brat antics go too far, and obviously SOMEONE (kawa) has to set you straight

♡ word count: 1.6k

♡ warnings: bratty reader, crying, rough sex, mirror sex, semi-public (kinda), exhibitionism mentioned, choking, hair pulling, slight breeding kink, slight degredation

A/N: hello! I know its been lichrally forever since me or cait posted but yall know how it be when the mental health be getting bad, we just needed some time to figure some shit out and were both in a MUCH better place then when we started this blog. idk about cait but I'll be trying to post here more! Much love! -meej

You were… mildly bored; there was nothing at this particular college party that made it different from others you had been to. It was overcrowded, smelled of strong liquor and weed, and had the music so loud that you had to practically scream to get a word across to even Matsukawa, and he was sitting right next to you. You lay on the plush couch of the party you had been attending, your boyfriend at the other end of it with your feet on his lap.

The over-crowded part was what was bothering you right now, considering you were receiving many a dirty look from other party-goers for taking up so much seating space. After making seething eye contact with one too many sorority girls, you scoffed and hopped up off the couch and plopped yourself down onto your boyfriend’s lap. He always smelled so good, especially after practice. A lot of people found the smell of sweat gross, but it just reminded you of the smell that filled a room after you had just got done fucking each other's brains out.

“You ‘lright?” he kissed the back of your arm.

“Yeah, just bored.” You sighed, blowing a stray piece of hair out of your face. Hmmm… “blowing”. Your next thought practically formed itself.

“Well, if you wanna leave we can” he rested his hands on your hips. You turned sideways in his lap crossing your arms around his neck as you smiled, “Actually I think we better stay awhile.” You wiggled your hips slightly, settling your clothed sex next to his, lowering your eyes to meet his.

His grip tightened on you and he grinned, “Oh? Now you want to play exhibitionist huh? How moody…” You continued to grind against him, all the while pressing your tits into his chest and giving him a half-lidded glare.

“Y’know a little show might liven this place up a little,” you brought your thumb up to your mouth and bit your nail. Snaking your other hand down his torso to palm his cock through his pants. You could feel it twitch under your touch as he inhaled sharply, “After this whole day of being such a good girl you decide to start being a brat now,” You let go of your thumb and reached down under the cover of your skirt to move your panties to the side. His eyes flicked down to your hand as it worked its fingers in and out of your plush walls, and then back up to circle around your puffy clit. “But it’s so much fun -kawa” your pulled your hand away from your cunt and went to go put your fingers in his mouth, but before you could he caught your hand with an almost painful grip and forced your slick covered fingers onto your own tongue, bringing his second hand up to your chin to close your mouth around them. The sight of you sucking on your own wetness must’ve struck a chord in him and he stood up straight from the couch, with you in his arms bridal style. “Ooh!” You squealed in surprise and kept a sly little smirk on your face as you were carried away to your deserving punishment. You soon felt the draft of a door being opened and you were surprised to see that your boyfriend had brought you to the bathroom. It wasn’t unique, pretty standard toilet, sink combo, save for the tall floor mirror propped against one of the walls.

He set you down and you turned to the sink, smiling widely, “Couldn’t resist could y-” You were interrupted by one hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back against his chest, and the other gripping your throat. “So you think you can just act like that whenever you want without consequences, pretty girl?” he growled. He roughly brought his hand to your mouth to shove his fingers down your throat, making you moan and gag. He let go of your hair and pushed up your skirt to plant a harsh slap on your tight ass. “You think you can just show this cunt to anyone you want?” He took his fingers out of your mouth and pulled you in front of the mirror, with him behind you.

“Why?” you grinned, exacerbating your punishment no doubt, “Were you jealous that other people could have seen me like that?” He lifted up one of your legs, spreading you open giving you a full view of your throbbing pussy in the mirror, and you could feel him unzipping his pants behind you with his other hand. His cock bounced up in between your legs, right underneath your wet cunt. It was warm, and even the slight stimulation made you moan.

“L-lock the door” you were beginning to pant in anticipation. He had his hand on his cock behind you and was slowly rubbing it against your cunt, “Oh?” he teased, “You were being such a slut in the living room, and now you wanna be shy? Such a fucking brat.” He slipped the tip of his fat cock into your pussy. You whined, and he slapped your ass again when you tried to grind further down on him. “Nuh-uh princess, you only get fucked when I say you do.”

“P-please kawa, I’m begging for it, please fuck me.” Your voice was needy as your legs began to shake. “Isn’t that convenient,” he was now drawing slow, unsatisfying circles around your clit, never going over that one spot you desperately needed him to, “No, if you want me to fuck you, princess, you’re gonna have to do better than that ahh,” he moaned into your neck as your trembling legs provided the slightest bit of friction against the head of his cock.

“P-please Issei! Please fuck me until I can’t w-walk, please fill me up with your hot cum, fuck into my tight little hole, please I n-need it!” you were almost crying from the sheer misery of your anticipatory pleasure being dangled in front of you like a carrot.

He groaned and you saw his brows tighten in the mirror as he bit your ear, “Now that’s more like it, now why don’t you lean against this mirror for me.”

“Fuck yes pl-please anything you want Issei” You propped your palms against the cold glass of the mirror, watching his cock start to make shallow movements in your greedy cunt.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re getting split open by my cock.” You let out a guttural sound as he kept his movements shallow, and then all at once, he slammed his 8-inch cock balls deep in your dripping pussy. You almost screamed in pleasure as you melted against him. “Shit Issei, -ungh” you moaned as he pounded into you again fast and deep. You leaned forward and dropped your head in pleasure, only to have him grip your hair, pulling your head back up, “Uh uh princess, you gotta watch yourself get impaled on my fat cock.”

“Y-yes Issei,” he let go of your hair and pulled both of your arms back, binding them behind you with his hands. Then he started fucking you mercilessly your tits bounced from the force of his thrusts and your shortened breath fogged up the mirror in front of you, but luckily didn’t impair your view of your cunt getting fucked open. You moaned and started moving with his rhythm to meet his hips with yours, “Ngh! Fuck, yeah that’s it baby, just like that, god you’re so fucking tight.”

“Oh, oh fuck, fuck! God Issei please don’t stop fucking me like that,” you didn’t even care if anybody heard you anymore, you were too busy getting fucked dumb by the fattest cock you’d ever seen. “Yeah? You like that, princess? You like how I’m fucking my cum into your tight little hole?” His movements were getting faster and more erratic, he dropped one hand down to your pussy and started vigorously rubbing your puffy clit, with the other he pressed it against your lower belly, “Ohh fuck, I can feel myself inside of you, shit that’s so hot.”

He continued to fuck you like you both were gonna die tomorrow, and your moans got louder and louder while your pussy got wetter and wetter. “Pleas’,” you were being fucked so dumb that you could barely form words anymore, “let m’ cum Issei, please.”

“Look at you taking me so well, I guess my bad girl deserves her punishment then.” He started thumbing your clit even faster while deepening his strokes inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m about to fill you up, good baby.” His breathing was as erratic as yours and you could feel his cock start to twitch as he was getting close to cumming; you weren’t far behind him.

“Yes! Fuck me Issei! Ungh!” tears of pleasure started soaking your cheeks as you raced toward your orgasm. And, like a metal wire being snapped in two, you came violently and loudly, your sensations amplified by the hot white cum that was now painting your insides. “Fuuuck!” You threw your head back against his shoulder as his cock continued spurting inside you, while he moaned into your ear.

Both of your breathing started to slow and he had to catch you from falling to the floor considering your legs felt like jelly, “mm you ‘lright baby?” Your eyelids felt heavy as the neurochemical pleasure soup still lingered in your synapses. “Mhmm,” you turned towards him with a tired, satisfied smile.

“You think anybody heard us?”

“Definitely,” he returned your smile and gave your forehead a small kiss.

#meej #mattsun #drabble #meejsfics #fic

4 notes · View notes

winifredsandersonsbitch · 4 years

Text

“While It Lasts”

Faith Lehane x Reader

Warnings: cursing, underage drinking, almost violence, sexual themes (but not quite smut). Non- gender specific reader.

Description: Your relationship with Faith is... a little complicated. All you want is to be friendly, but it’s obvious to everyone that there’s something brewing just under the surface. One night while you’re out partying, a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven causes you to act on the tension.

The more you try to make Faith feel welcome or include her in the group, the more she tries to turn it into something sexual. During group movie nights, she maneuvers herself onto the couch or the floor or the easy chair with you to share your blanket. Everyone thinks you’re breathing is quickening at the scary parts, when really you’re trying to keep Faith from touching what she shouldn’t.

At the Bronze, she brings you drinks, insisting that you need help loosening up. She pulls you onto the dance floor, grinds up on you as the others talk about Angel and impending doom. You smell the sweat of the bodies on the dance floor, feel her hips rock against yours, and let the music move through you.

It’s all in good fun. Faith’s flirty with everyone, especially Buffy. It seems to you that she craves closeness so much she’s willing to manufacture it, but she also never stops working to dismiss it. She needs to escalate to romantics so she has an excuse to drop people when she’s through with them.

You care about her, though, and you don’t like seeing her cut off from the rest of the group. It’s hard for her to make friends at the high school when the only social skills she’s developed are related to fighting.

On nights when the Hellmouth is quiet, or, at least as quiet as it will ever be, you go to your fair share of parties, making up excuses about sleeping over at a friend’s when you’re too drunk to come home. It’s a way to take the edge off, to wind down from all of the near-death experiences. The people in Sunnydale are different, sure, but at least they’re interesting.

So when one of your friends tells you about a college party going on this weekend, you decide to bring Faith along.

You leave for the frat house around 11. Your mom has realized by now that if Buffy can be trusted to fight monsters, you can be trusted to go out with some friends. She waves goodbye from the door, crossing her arms in an I’m-anxious-but-I-know-you’re-growing-up way. She doesn’t go inside until your sedan has made it all the way to the stoplight at the end of the street.

You pick Faith up ten minutes later from the “apartment” where she’s been living, which is really more of a motel. She’s dressed in a slinky black dress that leaves her tattoo (and pretty much everything else) fully visible, her lips coated in a layer of her signature dark red. You’ve kept it a little more casual, not wanting to seem like you were trying to impress her or anyone else, but you’ve still left a lot more skin on display than usual. Her eyes wander downward and you resist the urge to cross your arms over yourself for cover. When she flicks her gaze back up to meet yours, she’s smirking.

“You look good. Do you save these outfits for when I’m not around or something?” She pops her gum, leaning against the doorway. Her dress rides up higher on her thigh when she angles her hip out. You try not to look.

“They’re not exactly pro-monster-hunting and Snyder would dress code me for sure,” you laugh, dangling the keys. “Wanna drive?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Your car is your baby. You don’t even let Buffy drive it unless Mom forces you. But Faith can handle herself behind the wheel, even if she is a little reckless. And you’re feeling more than a little reckless tonight.

“Knock yourself out.”

Seeing her in the driver’s seat is something else. She’s totally confident, totally in control, with none of the slightly desperate loneliness that you sometimes sense from her. She shakes her hair back behind her shoulders, turns the key in the ignition, and she’s off.

If you hoped she would gun it, you’re disappointed. She’s over the speed limit for sure, but by an amount that no one would question in a town with as many problems as Sunnydale. On occasion, she checks herself out in the mirror, fiddles with the dials on the radio until she finds something loud and sexual, takes her eyes off the empty road to drink you in. She rolls all the windows down until it feels like you’re caught in a hurricane, a storm of your own making, both of you screaming with the wind and then erupting into laughter.

She pulls onto the street adjacent to the frat house, hopping out of the car with her feet planted in a power pose, hands on her hips. Her hair is wild from the wind in a way that calls to mind witches on broomsticks and demon women making deals at crossroads. Part of her is feral, unwilling and unable to be grounded in anything but the moment.

“I’m feeling good about tonight,” she says, surveying the clear night sky, the moon hanging low over the trees. She slams the car door, comes over to meet you on your side. “What about you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, all of your thoughts about how gorgeous she looks bubbling to the surface. When you respond, your words come out slow and syrupy. “I think you’re right.”

She’s immediate in front of you, an Amazon clad in the colors of the night, her eyes dark and hungry. “Let’s go then.”

She grips your hand tightly in hers, leads you onto the sidewalk and down the street. At some point, she slips the car keys into the front pocket of your jeans for safekeeping, and your body throbs with the closeness of her. Every so often, your entwined arms knock against her thigh or yours, sending a jolt up your spine.

This is Faith, you try to convince yourself. Faith, who trains with Giles and Buffy. Faith, who has slept over at the house countless times.

But everything about tonight is different.

The frat house is packed. You can barely get in through the front door thanks to the crowd of drunk, horny teenagers. The music pulses with a thrumming beat that has them all swinging their hips, knocking into each other, breathing in a heady combination of sweat and pheromones. You’ve missed this, the simplicity of a party, the company of strangers. It makes you feel a little high, like you’re floating above yourself, like you’re walking on air. There’s nothing like it.

Faith doesn’t feel the same religiosity of the moment.

“Move it or lose it!” she yells, dragging you behind her and elbowing people out of your way. She gets you as far as the kitchen before a jock whips around to face her and calls her a bitch.

She shoves a hard fist right up under his nose and growls, “Call me a bitch again and see what happens.”

He’s going to, if for no other reason than to stand his ground in front of the people nearby who have been craning their necks to look. Before he can open his mouth or she can deck him, you tug on Faith’s arm, squeezing past a couple necking in front of the counter. She reluctantly lets herself be pulled away, but she holds up her middle finger to the guy on her way out.

She finally lets go of your hand to grab a cold beer out of the cooler and it makes you feel... empty. Before you can wonder at the feeling, she closes your fingers around a wine cooler.

“You’ve always liked that fruity, girly shit,” she says with a grin, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and cracking open the tab. She takes a long swig, leans back, wipes her mouth and smears her lipstick the tiniest bit. “Guarantee there’s a game of truth or dare going on upstairs. Wanna find it?”

You would go find hell with her, if that’s what she wanted. Right at this moment, she has you more dazed than alcohol ever has, including that night at Tina Gardener’s when you were so drunk that Buffy had to come pick you up in the middle of the night. She had only been 14 and she didn’t even have her license yet, but she managed without crashing and then snuck you into the house. The next morning, you’d had a wicked hangover, but Joyce never found out.

You weren’t exactly a lightweight, but you and Faith were drinking so much so quickly that you stumbled a little as you went up the stairs. She had found a bottle of vodka stashed in the cabinet, which had probably been reserved for later in the night. A minute later, she had you sipping straight from the bottle.

“That’s right, baby,” she croons, holding onto the bottle with one hand and you with the other. Her Slayer strength keeps you upright as you brush past other couples going down into the heat of the ground floor. “Tonight’s all about you. Cut loose.”

When you reach the second floor, you knock on doors until you find the game room, where a group of college kids are sitting around in a circle. An empty wine bottle is the centerpiece, illuminated only by candlelight. It’s decidedly cult-like, with all the moaning and groaning from nearby rooms leeching in, but this is a ritual you know well.

Without being asked, the others widen the circle to include the two of you. You take a seat next to a girl with spiky purple hair, serious eyeliner, and six piercings. She bites her lip, traces the carpet in front of her with an infinity shape.

“You’re cute,” she says, baring her teeth like a hyperactive puppy. The freckled boy next to her swats her knee.

“Francine, play by the rules,” he chides, but he’s eyeing Faith. She soaks it in instead of leveling her usual glare, happy to bask in the attention for the moment. Still, if he tries to touch her, you’re betting on a broken wrist.

“Aw, they don’t mind,” she whines, but she pulls back.

Clearly, these are not the coolest kids, at least not in the frat/sorority definition of the term. You and Faith always seem to end up here sooner or later, sharing space with the kids who didn’t go to prom. You don’t mind, exactly. It’s quieter up here in the study room, more intimate. And these kids are less predictable than the jocks downstairs. You’re only worried how Faith is going to treat them once she gets tired of playing.

“If you’re finished,” a redheaded boy across from you sniffs, “we can get started again.”

Faith’s lips brush your ear, her voice low and conspiratory. “Jesus, I hope neither of us get stuck with that one.”

You stifle a giggle, feeling the vodka warm you like an embrace. Faith passes the bottle back to you as the redhead goes over the rules of seven minutes in heaven, like everyone doesn’t already know.

Well. Considering the crowd you’re currently with, some of them might actually be first-timers. In this room, you’re probably actually one of the more experienced players. That, along with the drinking, takes a considerable edge off.

The girl next to you, Francine, spins first. When the bottle lands on a blond boy with braces, she’s visibly disappointed, flicking her eyes to you before leading him into the bathroom across the hall.

Next, it’s your turn, and since there is no shortage of rooms in the frat house, you can spin right away. The bottle makes a full circle before landing directly in between Faith and a shaggy-haired boy who’s cute in a shy, future-librarian kind of way.

You stand up, wobbling only slightly, and reach out a hand to him to save him from having to make the first move, but Faith closes her fingers around yours instead.

“I’ve got this one, champ,” she tells him, and he yanks back like he’s been burned.

“What are you doing?”

She leads you from the room without answering, knocking on doors to find one that’s empty, and then pulling you inside.

“Playing the game. Did you think I was going to let you kiss that loser? You deserve better. Hell, his blow-up doll deserves better.”

You don’t like it when she gets like this, all catty and rough around the edges. She knows it, too— sees it in the way your shoulders stiffen. As an apology, she helps you into one of the beds and sits criss-cross next to you, lets you lean your head against her. In the darkness, it’s easy to pretend that it’s just the two of you here, no raging party downstairs, no other people coupling up in the room next door.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” she scoffs, winding herself up again, and you feel the words come from her mouth. She’s animated, motioning with her hands, but careful not to shake you off. “It’s just an excuse for a bunch of geeks who couldn’t get some any other way to hook up.”

“I dunno,” you say, your voice soft. “I think it’s kind of fun. I mean, I used to be one of those geeks.”

It’s been a long time since you felt like you were some kind of outcast, but you can sympathize with the need to belong. To be loved. You only want to show her that some people take longer than others to grow out of that phase, but she takes personal offense.

“No, you weren’t.” Faith is insistent, and she jerks her shoulder so that you almost fall on top of her. You regain your balance, hands spread to hold your weight. She doesn’t notice. She’s frowning, her eyebrows drawn together. “You’re smart, okay, but you’re not some kind of weirdo. You’ve got social graces. Just look at you here with me. You think I’d hang out with someone who wasn’t on my level?”

You don’t answer. You’re not afraid of making her mad, but you don’t want to ruin the night out for either of you. It’s not often anymore that the two of you get a pass to do whatever you want.

Sensing your discomfort, she angles her body toward you, strokes your hair lightly. In the dim sliver of light coming from under the door, you can see the slope of her nose, a flash of a smile. “What, did I make you nervous or something? Come on, it’s me.”

“Not nervous, only—” Only she’s so close to you now that you can feel her warm, vodka-flavored breath against your cheek. Only her eyes are dark and deep like the bottom of a well you’d gladly drown in. You lose your train of thought and maybe it’s just the alcohol, but her perfume is the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled. It’s sharp and heavy, pulling you under, dragging you upside down and sideways.

“Only what?” Her red lips form an O. She’s teasing you. She knows. You sit up, try to scramble back, too aware of where your hands are still positioned by her hip, but her fingers lock around your wrist. Not hard, not bruising, but commanding all the same.

Stay, they say. Don’t shy away from this. Don’t write it off.

“I—”

You’re glad she kisses you then, if only to shut you up.

You want to smear her lipstick, have it printed on your face like in the movies, but she’s not in any hurry. Her mouth is steady, in control, soft and wanting and unyielding. She slips you her tongue, pulls you into her lap, purrs with a grin you feel against your own.

“Relax, baby. Daddy’s here.”

Under other circumstances, a laugh might gurgle up from your throat, but Faith’s not joking. She’s setting the tone, her hands finding where you’re sensitive and squeezing, searching for the spots that will make you sigh against her. When her lips leave yours, you sag a little, but then she bites at your earlobe and nearly has you singing.

“Nerves, baby, it’s all about nerves,” she says, unzipping your jeans and yanking them down, her hands wandering between your thighs. When your try to make a reciprocal gesture, she pinches your ass, making you yelp. “What did I say earlier? Tonight’s about you.”

After that, you rest your head on her chest as she explores, letting her do as she wishes. There’s some gasping on your end, rocking against her fingers to create more friction, toe-curling spasms of pure bliss. She’s breathing you in, working you for the finale. She knows exactly what buttons to push to make you pop, always has.

You call out her name, eyes squeezed shut, biting your lip, and she’s running down a long list of pet names, each one more ridiculous than the last, as one hand reaches down your shirt—

Then the door opens, letting in a shock of white light. You blink like it’s the second coming. Like aliens have landed on planet Earth and have come to announce their plans. Who else but Jesus or aliens would dare interrupt this?

“Seven minutes are up,” the redheaded boy says. He squints at your position curled into Faith, where you’ve frozen like a deer caught in headlights. His smile takes on a decidedly more predatory look, but before he can make any suggestions, Faith stands up, sending you rolling off her lap and back onto the bed. She makes it to the door in three quick strides.

“Fuck off,” she says, slamming it closed on him. Then she turns to you. She’s been taken out of her element, her chest rising and falling with short angry breaths. Then she leans against the door. Locks it.

“Not going to flake out on me now, are you, babe?” she asks, crossing her arms. “Because that wouldn’t be fair, so close to the finish line.”

“’Course not.” Your voice is a little shaky from the stimulation, but she knows you mean it. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a quitter.

“Good.” The bed is small, but you scooted up against the headboard in your surprise, creating enough room for her to crawl the short distance over to you on her knees. The mattress’s squeak is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. “Where were—”

There’s the sound of shouting downstairs and red and blue lights color the side of Faith’s face. She shoves the window open to reveal cop cars pulling into the driveway, sirens squealing. You tug your jeans up sharply, almost tripping over the legs as you stumble off the bed to stand next to her.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, surveying the roof and ditching her heels. You’re not sure that the answer should be yes, but it is. You take the hand offered to you, still sticky with sweat and other more intimate fluids, and follow her out.

Below, there are cops ducking people into squad cars and giving breathalyzers to minors, but everyone is too preoccupied to notice the two of you. Faith’s feet grip the shingles, keeping you grounded. You keep slipping, thrown off by your own drunkenness and the fact that this is not exactly your area of expertise, but she never lets you fall.

The house is surrounded. It makes you kind of irrationally angry, how many cops have been brought in to make this bust when you all know there are much worse things prowling the streets than some underage drinkers.

Even so, Faith could make it out if she were on her own. She’s athletic, nimble enough to make the jump off the roof and then run until she’s clear. But with you in tow, there’s no chance in hell. The vodka went straight to your head.

You do make it to the back of the roof, all the way up the triangle-shaped peak and then halfway down so that you’re in the shadows, away from the streetlights and nestled underneath one of the windows. It’s a little cold, so Faith wraps her arm around you, drawing you in so close you can hear her heart beating. Quicker, with the adrenaline, but steady and sure. Not like yours, which feels ready to pop right out of your chest.

“We’ll hang out here for awhile and climb down when they’re gone,” she says. She squeezes your shoulder, grinning. “It’ll be like a rooftop campout. A novelty.”

You laugh, despite the cold and how all the alcohol you drank earlier is beginning to make you sick to your stomach. “Everything about tonight has been a novelty.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, even though she was probably thinking it, too. Her arm goes limp and her smile slides right off the roof. You backpedal.

“That’s not what I meant,” you say, fumbling. “Tonight’s been—”

“It’s been great. Thanks for inviting me.”

Her voice is suddenly flat, dull. She watches the policemen below with an avoidant fascination.

“I like being around you.”

You don’t know how to fix this. You don’t want to hurt her, but what else can you do except scare her off? You know how Faith operates. She has her fun, then moves on. You’ve seen it a million times. You’ve been jealous a million times. She’s never indicated that flirting with you was anything more than that.

She meets your eyes finally, brushes your cheek with her lips. “I like being around you too, peaches. Now let’s enjoy the show while it lasts, ‘kay?”

You nod, focusing on the teenagers below who are hopping fences and pretending sobriety. You watch the lights until your eyes ache, until there’s nothing else in the world to you except red and blue. That, and the weight of Faith’s arm across your shoulder.

While it lasts.

#faith lehane #faith lehane x reader #faith x reader #fanfiction #btvs x reader #btvs #btvs season 2 #buffy the vampire slayer #buffyverse

79 notes · View notes

riverboundao3ff · 4 years

Text

Riverbound Chapter 7

You are THE GUARDIAN, which is kind of unfortunate because you’re currently face down and up to your chest in a medicalizer, which has clamped down on your torso so hard you think you’re going to throw up. It’s not like you’re not grateful for the opportunity to heal your broken ribs, but feeling the machine forcefully fuse the bone and muscle back together is not a pleasant experience. Even advanced technology has its setbacks, you suppose.

“If it hurts too much, we can take a break.”

You look up to Mallek, who is sitting beside you like a very anxious guard dog. Somebody put a big plastic bowl underneath you in case you puke, but you guess he wants to be ready to either hold your hair up like a drunk sorority girl at a party or pull you out of the medicalizer.

You manage a wheezy laugh. “Nah, I don’t feel pain. I’m a robot, remember?”

An unhappy whine rises up from the back of Mallek’s throat, kind of like a stressed cat. “These things can suck even for highbloods. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, dude. I just--” Something clicks back into place in your side, and your vision goes fuzzy for a couple seconds. “Augh. Just need to be uncomfortable for a little while longer. I’m not running around Thrashthrust with broken ribs any longer than, than I have to, oh shit.”

Your stomach rolls like a fighter jet and you let loose into the strategically placed bowl beneath you. Hey look, there’s the grubflakes you ate for breakfast.

Mallek grimaces, and you feel a cool hand rubbing circles into your upper back. You turn your attention towards breathing in and out, in and out, just focusing on the physical contact. It’s only a little after midnight but you’re already exhausted. The painkillers Lynera gave you early in the evening have long since worn off.

“What happened to you?” you hear him whisper.

You force your eyes back open. “Daraya already told you? I got thrown into a tree by a goddamn cholerbear. Nasty sonuva bitch.”

“No, I know that! Why did you disappear for like, half a sweep?” he demanded.

His voice cracks about halfway through, and guilt hits you like a sucker punch. You just want to see him smile again. Granted, you’re looking down at the bowl-o’-puke instead of your friend, but you don’t really have the strength to do anything else.

“Long story short, I got kidnapped. Made some new friends to cope. Escaped, made sure my new friends were okay, and then I came back here. I’ll tell you the full version when I’m not on the verge of passing out,” you explain.

“Kidnapped?” Mallek explodes. “The hell you mean, kidnapped?!”

You wince at the noise and reach out to pat his knee. “Sshhhhhhhh. Shhhh. Calm down. It’s fine now. Be calm.”

His face lights up blue. It’s only then you remember telling that shushing a troll is considered lowkey sexy or something. Whoops.

“I would never leave you on purpose, Mallek,” you say, quickly pulling away before it can get weird. “Or… or anybody. Okay?”

“... Okay,” he mumbles.

You smile encouragingly at him. He grabs your hand and squeezes it. It would have been a really sweet moment, except you’re sweaty and shaky and everything stinks like vomit. You can’t imagine how much it must reek to Mallek and his better sense of smell.

The both of you stay like that for a few more minutes, and then the medicalizer goes off with a sharp buzz and releases your torso from its clamps. You immediately inhale as much as you possibly can, groaning with relief when there was no more stabbing pain. There’s still a bit of soreness; a medicalizer can only do so much for bruising, but by all the horrorterrors have you missed breathing like a regular person.

“How’s it feel?” Mallek asks. You can feel the anxiety coming off him in waves.

“So much better.” You’d fall asleep right there and then if he gave you the chance, but you feel him gently grab your hands and pull you out of the medicalizer. A pair of strong arms lift you up, carry you a short distance away, and then set you back down on a sofa.

You accidentally let out a squeak when you feel a chilly finger poke your stitches.

“Sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good. You’re just cold.”

Mallek huffs and touches the scarred-over gash again. “The medicalizer took care of this big wound right here, but the stitches need to come out. I don’t know how, though.”

The fun never ends. “Lanque did ‘em.”

“I’ll go get him. Be right back,” he promises. You hear him jump to his feet and leave the room, the door creaking slightly on his way out. Downstairs, you can hear your friends discussing something, most likely Tyzias and Daraya cooking up a crazy new plan for the rebellion.

You can’t wait to join them and help save the planet. Vriska’s demand that you return in ten nights is a constant reminder of what you came here to do, but it also makes you nervous about the inevitable teleporting you’ll need to do. What if you messed up and ended up somewhere you shouldn’t? Causing a paradox wouldn’t just screw up your mission, it could ruin the fabric of reality. That fear kept you from so much as doing a measly little jump down the mountainside when you left the caverns.

Having powers was handy, sure, but sometimes it made everything, like, a thousand times more stressful than it actually had to be.

The thumping of footsteps up the stairs gives you the distraction you need to calm down. You crack open an eye in time to see Mallek and Lanque striding in.

“Hey,” you croak.

“Damn, Adalov, did you have it up in the highest setting?” Lanque mutters, turning from you to Mallek with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look very happy with what he sees.

“Medicalizers are made for trolls, not aliens,” Mallek shoots back. “You know they hurt.”

“That thing was old when you let me use it.”

“I’m sorry, did you know any other highbloods with top-notch medicalizers that could do that surgery you wanted? I don’t think so, fucker.”

“Boys, can we save the pitch stuff for later? I want these stitches out so I don’t have to keep laying around like a dead body,” you growl.

Mallek and Lanque glance back at you, both looking a little sheepish, before Mallek slinks away to sit down at your feet while muttering something about never being pitch for pretentious assholes who can’t even wear their jackets right. Lanque messes around with a few first aid kits on the shelf beside the medicalizer before finding what he’s looking for-- a small scalpel and a pair of tweezers.

“Alright, you know the drill. Off with the sports bra,” he orders.

You groan but obey, pausing with your hand through one of the straps when you notice another pair of wide eyes on you. “Mallek. Turn around, my guy.”

A very interesting squeaky noise escapes Mallek’s chest before he turns around and all but slithers over the armrest he was leaning on. You hear him hit the floor with a thump. Lanque rolls his eyes.

“You two know each other?” you ask as you flip over to lay on your stomach.

“We’ve met a few times, yes,” Lanque confirms, kneeling down to start picking at the stitches with the scalpel. The way he says it makes you suspect there was a lot more to the story than he was letting on. “Have you already told Mallek everything?”

That was Lanque’s way of saying “Let’s change the subject”, so you let it go. “Not… everything. Are you listening, Mallek?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I only want to explain this once. Basically, the multiverse is a whole lot more complicated than anybody knows, and there are a lot of… powerful beings out there that like to meddle. Like, with timelines, and universes, and that kind of stuff. Are you following me?”

“I… okay?”

“So basically, this fucker called Doc Scratch is one of these god things, and he was using me to control his timeline… area… whatever. That’s why I was running around Alternia before I left, because I guess I had to help bring certain people together for the timeline to work? I don’t know. Anyways, he kidnaps me when he’s done making me do his business and makes me read this fucked up comic in his own fucked up dimension, which is also on one of your moons. Long story short, the comic’s about some other friends I made and the shit they get into in another timeline. Eventually I manage to escape from Doc Scratch with only moderate trauma. Yay, me. How are we doing so far?”

You can’t see him, which is probably a good thing. “You… the multiverse and the… okay, sure. Why not.”

“I end up on Alternia again, but in the future, and then Earth, which is my home planet. Well, not that exact version of Earth, but whatever. I end up befriending all these kids and try to help them lead better lives than they would originally in this other timeline where they all play a game that destroys the universe. I should also mention that Doc Scratch somehow wiped my memories before I escaped, so until I meet this cool chick called Aradia I… had completely forgotten about you guys.” You swallow back the lump in your throat and try to focus on Lanque pulling out your stitches. It stings.

“The last kid I made friends with was this boy called Dirk. Good kid. So we’re hanging out, and this other version of Dirk rocks up from another universe, and this bastard is a kind of god called an… Ultimate Self, I think. He tries to stop me from rewriting the timeline and then tries to kill me or whatever. I get away from him and manage to…” Crap, how do you explain this part without telling your friends you created an entire universe? “I get him to go home and leave me and the kids alone. He can’t hurt us if he’s in his own universe. After all of that I wanted to come back to see you guys again. So I did.”

Like before, you don’t mention the Director, or the little showdown between you, her, and Ultimate Dirk in Doc Scratch’s mansion. You definitely don’t tell them you’re here to help them win the rebellion. You remind yourself you’re not lying to them, you’re just… not telling them everything. To protect them.

Yeah.

“What worries me is this Scratch character,” Lanque mutters. “You said that Ultimate Self god went back to his own universe, but if Scratch still has influence over our reality…”

“I… have no idea about Scratch,” you say truthfully.

“What is he, exactly?”

You release a long sigh. “Every planet with intelligent life has a thing called a First Guardian to guide it and its people to their destinies. Timelines can have Guardians too, I think? I know that sometimes entire universes have Guardians. They keep time and space in order, basically.”

“... If this universe has a First Guardian, why can’t it go beat Scratch’s ass?” Mallek jokes.

It’s a good question, and you know he’s just trying to lighten the mood, but it still fills you with misery, anger, and a fear so powerful you almost start shaking. If… when you meet Scratch again, what will you do? Would you be able to fight him? Protect your friends from him?

If your friends knew who you really are, would they still care about you?

“That’s something I would love to see, believe me,” you manage to say.

“I’m so sorry that all of that happened to you. It’s so fucked up,” Mallek says hoarsely. “I was so pissed that you were gone. I just spent six perigees of my life thinking one of the best friends I ever had was dead and I didn’t even stop to consider that they might be having it even worse.”

“It’s not your fault. Grief makes people do and feel weird shit,” you assure him. You’re trying not to cry yourself, because you’re half-naked with a super hot guy pulling out your stitches and another hot guy hiding behind the sofa. Your life is a lot of things but boring is not one of them.

Your pain tolerance must be through the roof by now, because you don’t even feel it when Lanque pulls out the last couple threads. “All done.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thanks, Lanque.”

He pats your back. “Come join us downstairs when you’re ready. Tyzias has something I think you’d be interested in.”

Your tiredness instantly fades away. “Oh?”

“You can’t be serious, Bombyx. They’re still recovering,” Mallek protests.

“Then get off your privileged highblood ass and come with us,” Lanque calls over his shoulder as he saunters out the door.

Mallek yelps and dives back behind the sofa when you hop up to get dressed. Your shirt was slung over the desk chair, which you gladly yank back on over your bra as you start to shiver. Mallek’s place was always pretty chilly since he ran cold, so you’d always have to bundle up a bit when you came over to hang.

“Alright, I’m decent. My pasty white ass won’t blind you anymore,” you tell him.

“You’re more of a really pale… pinkish tawny?” he notes, tossing you your hoodie.

You decide you’d explain the different ethnic and racial categories humans have to him later. “Yeah, sure. Thanks for letting me use the medicalizer.”

“Duh. I don’t let my friends run around with broken ribs,” Mallek snorts. “Yours sure break a lot, though. Maybe I should just stick you back in there from time to time, just in case.”

You pretend to chuck the puke bowl at him and cackle when he instinctively dodges. Once upon a time, you might have told him that human vomit is acidic. Granted, it definitely is; you can feel your throat and tongue burning like a bitch, but you never specified that it wasn’t deadly or anything.

“Just put it in the load gaper!” he begs, and you laugh as you follow him down to the bathroom. You forgot how much fun it was to fuck around with him. Maybe you’d introduce him to Kuprum and Folykl, you just know that the three of them in one room would be the best thing that ever happened. That, or they’d all kill each other. Those kinds of things could be a little difficult to predict with trolls.

The puke bowl gets cleaned with water, soap, and a lot of vigorous scrubbing. Your hands get the same treatment. Once you gulp down some water and splash your face in the sink, you turn, only to realize Mallek is staring at you again. His eyes are much more blue than when you last saw him. He’s an inch or two taller as well.

“... Yeah?” you ask. Did you have vomit on your face? Fuck.

All at once, Mallek wraps you up in a hug that leaves you breathless. You hug him back instinctively, and then really go all in when you feel him shaking ever so slightly against you. He smells like chips and something vaguely smoky.

Neither of you say anything for a while. There’s something incredibly fragile in the air, and it warms you from the inside out and fills you with worry.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I missed you too. So much.”

“... You don’t have to join in on whatever crazy shit they’re cooking up down there.” He chuckles nervously. “Really. You can just… I dunno. Stay with me, if you want?”

You bump your head against his chest and gently squeeze his arms. “Mallek. The world is going to change, and I want to be a part of it. Don’t you?”

“I don’t want you to die.”

You reach up to gently cup his cheek. “I’ve died before. It’s not so bad, really.”

Mallek leans into the contact, looking at everything but at you. You let yourself be held by him for a little while longer before pulling away. He doesn’t say anything else, but he does follow you down the stairs to the rest of the group.

You grin at Tyzias when she looks up at you, hopeful. “So whose lives are we gonna ruin tonight?”

#hiveswap #Hiveswap Friendsim trolls #homestuck #pesterquest #MSPA reader #The Guardian #riverbound #jadebloods #teals #AND MALLEK #lol

17 notes · View notes

writekraft · 6 years

Text

Human Resource Management [www.writekraft.com]

Human Resource Management

CASE: I Enterprise Builds On People

1. Would Enterprise’s approach human resource management work in other industries?

No, because at the HRM of this enterprise, there is no border between employees and managers, all of them have the same uniform and all. For other industries it is not like this. Moreover, the firm targets a certain kind of individual to hire; its preferred new employee is a college graduate from bottom half of graduating class, and preferably one who was an athlete or who was otherwise actively involved in campus social activities. The rationale for this unusual academic standard is actually quite simple. Enterprise managers do not believe that especially high levels of achievements are necessary to perform well in the car-rental industry, but having a college degree nevertheless demonstrates intelligence and motivation. In addition, since interpersonal relations are important to its business, Enterprise wants people who were social directors or high-ranking officers of social organisations such as fraternities or sororities. Athletes are also desirable because of their competitiveness.

Once hired, new employees at Enterprise are often shocked at the performance expectations placed on them by the firm. They generally work long, grueling hours for relatively low pay.

2. Does Enterprise face any risks from its human resource strategy?

No, the strategy which is used by the HR it was very success and through these strategies enterprise growth up in international markets. Like, right recruitment process and targeting right people for the growth of the enterprise and also giving good training and development for the employees and using of cost effective way in the enterprise

Moreover, the company employs college graduates with low grades that often struggle to find work. Thus, a job at Enterprise is still better than no job at all. The firm does not hire outsiders—every position is filled by promoting someone already inside the company. Thus, Enterprise employees know that if they work hard and do their best, they may very well succeed in moving higher up the corporate ladder at a growing and successful firm.

3. Would you want to work for Enterprise? Why or why not?

Yes; because working for enterprise is that we are always moving up into a new progressive role with the organization

CASE: II Doing the Dirty Work

1. How relevant are the concepts of competencies to the jobs in a chicken-processing plant?

Concept of competencies is basically The ability to perform some task; Meeting specified qualifications to perform; implicit knowledge of a language’s structure or the ability to do something well, measured against a standard, especially ability acquired through experience or training so competencies is the skills ,knowledge, ability to do the particular task.

Much like a manufacturing assembly line, a chicken-processing facility is organised around a moving conveyor system. Workers call it the chain. In reality, it’s a steel cable with large clips that carries dead chickens down what might be called a “disassembly line.” Standing along this line are dozens of workers who do, in fact, take the birds apart as they pass.

Even the titles of the jobs are unsavory. Among the first set of jobs along the chain is the skinner. Skinners use sharp instruments to cut and pull the skin off the dead chicken. Towards the middle of the line are the gut pullers. These workers reach inside the chicken carcasses and remove the intestines and other organs. At the end of the line is the gizzard cutters, who tackle the more difficult organs attached to the inside of the chicken’s carcass. These organs have to be individually cut and removed for disposal. Jobs such as these on the chicken-processing line are actually becoming increasingly common.

So in chicken processing plant anyone can’t work or will be not able to work because of environment of plant and also because of some jobs in plant are dangerous like they have to fight the live birds when they first hang on chain, and the air inside the plant is difficult to breathe. Usually workers are provided mask for but most don’t use it because it is hot and confining.

And work space at plant itself is so tight that the workers often cut themselves and sometimes their co-workers with many instruments they use to perform their job. And they have to captive with moving chain for example no one can vacate a post to use the bathroom or for other reason without the permission of the supervisor. So according to concept of competencies anyone will be not able to do these types of dirty jobs so these jobs require those people who can work efficiently and can stay at plant and who are non vegetarian.

2. How might you try to improve the jobs in a chicken-processing plant?

We can improve the jobs in chicken processing plants in the following ways:

1) Hire or recruit those people who are non vegetarian so they will be more able to do and handle these type of work more efficiently

2) We can provide them any machine that will cut the chicken automatically so that we can overcome the safety issues like cut and injury etc.

3) We can make the environment friendlier so that workers will enjoy the work

4) We will arrange more space on assembly line or moving chain so that workers can easily handle the work safely and by this we can reduce the dangerous jobs

5) Will provide cool and eco friendly paper mask to the workers so that those workers who don’t like the air inside the plant can work easily

6) Those workers who don’t like to work on assembly line or don’t know the process we can shift them to other jobs

7) If any workers want to go for bathroom they can go without the permission of supervisor and while other workers will handle his job

So by all above decision we can improve the jobs in a chicken processing unit because no. of poultry workers are increasing day by day in U.S. as well as in many countries like Georgia Alabama etc.

3. Are dirty, dangerous, and unpleasant jobs an inevitable part of any economy?

Yes, because chicken processing industry has became a major component of the many state economies like Georgia ,North Carolina, and Alabama etc and jobs such as these on the chicken processing are actually becoming increasingly common. And also because of growing appetites for lean, easy to cook meat and numbers of poultry workers has almost doubled since 1980 in U.S. because meat is cheaper there compare to veg food

And also because some unemployed workers in any economy doesn’t have skills to do any other work and for their basic needs they has to do these type of dirty and dangerous jobs because they don’t have any other options. In India also no. of non vegetarian are increasing and a large no. of our population is non vegetarian and unemployment rate is also high so many people have to these type of dirty jobs.

CASE: IV Crisis Blown Over

1. Do you think that the Bangalore-based company had practised participative management?

During such a crisis the company and the union both showed great sense of oneness. They both come together for solving the problem and thus ensured that the employees and the employers both don’t suffer the consequences of the factory being shut for non-production by the workers.

Yes, they have practiced participative management. Participative (or participatory) management, otherwise known as employee involvement or participative decision making, encourages the involvement of stakeholders at all levels of an organization in the analysis of problems, development of strategies, and implementation of solutions. Employees are invited to share in the decision-making process of the firm by participating in activities such as setting goals, determining work schedules, and making suggestions. Other forms of participative management include increasing the responsibility of employees (job enrichment); forming self-managed teams, quality circles, or quality-of-work-life committees; and soliciting survey feedback. Participative management, however, involves more than allowing employees to take part in making decisions. It also involves management treating the ideas and suggestions of employees with consideration and respect.

In this case when the accident happened in the Machine Shop, which could have snowballed into a fully fledged strike, the management sought help from the union leaders who responded in a positive manner. After discussions between management and the union leaders, a decision was made about how to create normalcy and the compensation package for the deceased employee’s family. Thus, we can see participative management in force.

2. If your answer is yes, with what method of participation (you have read in this chapter) do you relate the above case?

Participative Management involves both the management and the employees or the representative of the employees in the decision making process. Thus it ensures a higher level of transparency among the employee and management.

To know what type of participation method was used in the case, lets first know what is a Union? A union is an organization that represents employees’ interests to management on issues such as wages, work hours and working conditions. Employees participate in administering the union and support its activities with union dues, fees they pay for the union services. The law protects employees’ rights to join and participate in unions. The law also requires employers to bargain and confer with the union over certain employment issues that affect unionized employees.

Involving the employees or the representative of employees (Union) is an element or participative management. Representative participation allows workers to be represented by a small group who actually participate. The goal of representative participation is to redistribute power within the organization. Employees' interests become as important as those interests of management and stockholders. This behaviour is also similar to collective bargaining procedure where unions and management negotiate with each other to develop the work rules under which union members will work for a stipulated period of time. Work rules include any terms or conditions of employment, including pay, work breaks and lunch periods, vacation, work assignments and grievance procedures.

3. If you were the union leader, would your behaviour have been different? If yes, what would it be?

The decision taken between the management and the union helped to take care of a situation which would have resulted in a crisis, if the action would not have been prompt. The union leader took every measure possible to have the workers back to work as soon as possible. As a union leader what decisions were taken, they were a good measure of the unions’ intent of starting the work in the factory as soon as possible. As delay in this regard would have not only resulted in the loss of man hours but the wages of the employees would also have been suffered. I would have given a thought about getting as many workers under the ESI Act., so that, in case of such situation, the ESI Act.

CASE: V A Case of Burnout

1. If the news is broken to Mahesh, how would he react?

If the news was broken out to Mahesh, he would be ready to take up the post because at any point it is human nature that most of the people do not give importance to the medical Reports, when it comes to balancing with the Promotion and Health.

Mahesh has physically and intellectually contributed for the growth of the company, he would feel humiliated if the GM post is not assigned to him. This could hamper his Psychological feelings and his performance will drastically drop, he will be demotivated and will not perform efficiently and effectively.

As he was assured by the Chairman Mahesh will be disappointed and he expects promotion at any cost because he has sincerely worked for the growth of the company. He would feel that management should show gratitude towards him for the hard work he put in for a couple of years.

If he is denied of the position, he would feel that it was an excuse given by the management as he himself did not genuinely know about the medical report till the news was broken to him. Even if the Report is true and the promotion not assigned to him would make him feel that he was exploited ,by these issues taking place at work the colleagues of Mahesh would not over stretch if required as they have the preconceived notion of the Management in their mind. This will leave a negative impact on the other employees and hampers their performance too.

It is human nature that he will not be in a position to digest the fact or take it easy over a period of time this may lead to the formation on groups at work and will increase trade unions number.

2. If you were giving advice to the Chairman on this matter, what would you recommend?

The following steps can be suggested to the Chairman keeping Mahesh’s issue in mind:

· Mahesh has to be counseled so that we can know how serious he is about the post? His monetary level increment? And about his health and his designation in the company

· He should feel that the company needs him we should get a feel good feeling develop in him about the company.

· He should be given more financial benefits as this would make him feel that he is an asset of the Company.

· The position is to be evaluated from the current level where the authority and responsibility are close to GM level and he should be given special preferences in the way of contributions to the company.

· He should be respected as a senior colleague unofficially equal to the desired position.

· The widening gap should be reduced between him and the management.

· He should be praised, Rewarded and awarded and should be suitably convinced that he will get the promotion soon.

To Order Full/Complete PhD Thesis

1 Thesis (Qualitative/Quantitative Study with SPSS) & PPT with Turnitin Plagiarism Report (<10% Plagiarism)

In Just Rs. 45000 INR*

Contact@

Writekraft Research & Publications LLP

(Regd. No. AAI-1261)

Mobile: 7753818181, 9838033084

Email: [email protected]

Web: www.writekraft.com

#Thesis writing services #Research paper #Dissertation writing help #SPSS #ANOVA #Literature Review

0 notes

writekraft · 6 years

Text

Human Resource Management[www.writekraft.com]