#temp play would be so fun with him on the receiving end | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

superblysubpar · 1 year ago

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modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

We'll Call It Love Masterlist | song inspiration

4.8k words | 18+ NSFW

Warnings: *This is a prequel to my series "We'll Call It Love" linked above | reader drinks wine and loves olives on her pizza | swearing | SMUT (PIV intercourse -wrapped before tapped /oral - both receiving and performing/dirty talk/ass slapping)

A/N: While this is a prequel to the series, I think it's actually kind of fun to read this after the first two parts and before the third, little easter eggs and what not. I hope you enjoy this and thanks for your patience in waiting for this story! 💛

“You’re laate,” you sing into your phone, smiling at Argyle across the bar as he motions to your almost empty glass of wine. Spinning on your barstool as you nod and Robin huffs into the phone.

“I’m so sorry, but Joe was on a terror today and like yes sir god forbid you have raisins in your trail mix and no I did not watch the barista take the temp of your half caf soy bullshit latte because believe it or not I do actually do real work for this company other than wait on your hand and foot and-”

“Robin!” Laughing into the phone and shaking your head. Your own chest hurts from her lack of ending a sentence. “Take a deep breath. I’m just joking, I already ordered the pizza and…” trailing off as she becomes far too quiet on the other end, “You’re not coming at all, are you?”

Your new friend groans, “I’m so, so, so, sorry. I promise I’m not normally this flakey, but like I cannot afford to lose this job and I have that date tomorrow so if I leave now I may as well go and buy a plot at the cemetery because-”

“Oh my god,” laughing at her dramatic flare, you smile at Argyle as he sets your refilled glass back in front of you. “Stop, you’re fine. I’m more than content to just hang here at the bar. There’s a game tonight, besides, Argyle can keep me company.”

Batting your eyelashes at him, he winks and Robin laughs on the other side of the phone but it quickly turns to another groan. “Please get extra olives on the pizza for me? Dingus hates them and he’s a baby who always gets his way and oh shit,” she whispers into the phone, “Gotta go. Joe is back and asking where his steak is and I forgot to order it. And by forgot I mean he told me he didn’t want steak an hour ago. Please pray for my quick and painless demise. I love you.”

Robin hangs up before you can reply and you slip your phone back into your purse. Leaning onto the counter, you sigh as your chin rests in your palm. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, Argyle.”

He tosses a rag over his shoulder and leans against the wall behind him. “Hot date cancel on you?”

Shrugging, he was no stranger to the guys you’d picked up at that very bar in just the few short weeks you’d been coming there. You take a sip of your wine before admitting, “Nah, just Robin. Although, she is very hot.”

He squints, rubbing at his jaw before snapping, “Super talkative lady right? She’s nice, I like her.”

You laugh into your glass as you nod. “That’s the one.” Looking around the fairly quiet bar, you turn back to him with a fake pout on your lips, fluttering your eyelashes dramatically. “Could I persuade you to put the baseball game on?”

He groans, wiping down a glass, “You know Eden’s rule…”

Leaning forward on your elbows, exaggerating your pout as he trails off. He squints before throwing his head back, blowing out a long exhale, “Man, you’re going down with me if she gets mad.”

Snickering into your wine glass because the other owner is quite…particular about the restaurant. Argyle is the exact laid back balance she needs to run the business or she’d never get anyone in the place - there’s a reason it’s named after him. If it were up to Eden, every guest would need to answer a questionnaire about what music taste they have, toppings on pizza, and if they played sports in high school. Any sort of sports paraphernalia on your person would get you on the sidewalk immediately if she had her way.

Which is why you’ve learned from Argyle that Eden runs the behind the scenes business side of things, and Argyle gets creative freedom on pizzas and drinks, tending to the customers, and earning the tips he rightfully deserves. He was not let loose on decor however. The pizza bar is decked out in nostalgia from the decades, various band’s vinyls covering the walls, black and white photographs of Eden and Argyle in front of their VW Van across the country. Candlesticks with dripping wax and soft lamps lighting the tables, gold and black accented decor, and a strict aesthetic to be met when it came to the music played and what was shown on TV.

Making a crossing motion over your chest, “I promise your secret is safe with me, nobody in here will be paying attention, anyways.”

He hums, unconvinced, but pops it on. Rolling his eyes at your grin while making a show of muting the TV and putting subtitles on.

The bar, aside from your seat, is empty, other patrons snuggled into booths behind you. Argyle brings you out your pizza and keeps your cab at a decent level throughout the first several innings, chatting with you as he gets orders done for others. Despite being bummed to not see Robin, you’re a tad excited to have a quiet night to yourself. You enjoy being able to sit at the bar, drink too much wine, eat the kind of pizza you like and-

“Shit.”

A whisper just over your shoulder has you turning, wine glass half suspended to your lips.

Your eyes greedily take in the man in front of you. From his worn brown leather boots, up dark black jeans that fit him perfectly, to a striped shirt revealing thick chest hair just above the top button. Swallowing harshly when you spot the gold chain nestled there as your gaze climbs higher over the tanned skin of his neck, dotted with freckles and moles. Several pairings of two that lead you to a jaw lined with slight scruff. Your thighs squeeze together on the bar stool when your eyes finally meet his, a hypnotizing and enticing swirl of honey and moss.

He runs a hand through his disheveled chestnut locks, causal and airy with his tone after he blows his breath out with a nod to your pizza, “I was about to come over here and throw out an incredibly smooth pick up line that I worked on for the last ten minutes,” his thumb hooking over his shoulder to where he must have been before he continues, “But I see you have olives on your pizza. So. Enjoy your horrible dinner choice.”

Your mouth drops open as he slides down two open chairs from you. He smirks into his bottle of beer as he leans back on the stool, eyes on the screen playing the game.

Hating that you can’t come up with any sort of comeback, you snap your jaw closed and roll your shoulders back, facing the mounted TV screen as well.

Watching out of the corner of your eye as he leans forward on the bar, eyes dancing across the screen and his fingers twitching on the bottle. His thumbs wear down the paper label as the home team lets two more runs happen.

Argyle returns with the cardboard pizza box you asked for and he glances at the screen and you lunge forward, finger pointing in his face, “Aha! So you do like baseball!”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders, “Yeah, sure, when the Cubs are winning.”

You scoff into your wine glass, “Mm, so never.”

The olive hating man next to you groans, his forehead landing on his arms as his voice is muffled against the bar, “You hate the Cubs too? What is wrong with you?”

Your wine glass hits the bar top a little too harshly and Argyle winces, moving it safely from the edge as you turn to the adorable yet infuriating man next to you, “What is wrong with you?! I was having a perfectly normal night and then you came over here and complained about my dinner and my team preference and-”

“I’m sorry, I saw a pretty girl, alone at a bar, watching baseball and I thought I’d shoot my shot. Excuse me for finding the one girl who not only likes my least favorite food but also hates my team?!”

Rolling your eyes, you narrow them at the TV muttering to Argyle, “Why are the cutest ones always obnoxious?”

Olive man grins, catching his glance out of the corner of your eyes. His tone changes, amusement in it as his perfect teeth gleam in the low light. “You think I’m cute?”

Groaning, you rub at your temple and he keeps going, “Cause, you know, I think you’re still pretty, for what it’s worth. Even if you’re an olive loving Cubs hater.”

He sighs when you turn to face the TV again fully, arms crossing over your chest. Hearing his chair scuff against the dark hardwood beneath it, you’re a little disappointed he gave up so easily. But then, you watch Argyle smile down at the ground as a tapping happens on your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you practically growl as you turn around to see olive man standing there. “What?”

He extends his hand, leaning on the bar next to you, “Hi, I’m Steve. While I think your choice in pizza toppings is horrendous, I’m willing to look past this fact and your denial of rooting for an excellent baseball team because you’re super cute and I’d love to buy you a drink, maybe walk you home, could even kiss you goodnight.” He smirks as you look down at his hand, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting.

You laugh, because you can’t help it, there’s just something about him. Call it a cosmic connection, who knows. He’s cute, smooth, and able to make you laugh which is saying a lot considering what you’ve been dealt lately. Slipping your hand into his, you try not to focus on how it engulfs yours or how long his fingers are as you introduce yourself.

“Very nice to meet you. And, great choice, by the way,” hand still holding yours, he leans forward, his mouth hovering just over your lips. Mint and beer hitting you and making you dizzy as he whispers, “The cutest ones are always the best kissers too.”

That’s how you ended up kissing him in your lobby, up the entire flight of stairs, taking a break to push you against the wall, back arching over the railing as his palms pressed flat to the brick on the side of your head. Breaking apart only when the door at the bottom creaks loudly and rudely interrupts you. Steve’s lips stay on you as you bump and fumble your way to your door, hot and quick gasps for breath against your lips as his fingers dig into your hips. Moaning into your mouth as you yank on the back of his hair a little harshly.

“Keys,” breathing into him, nipping at his top lip as he pushed you into your door.

Steve nods and you laugh, pushing on his chest so you can focus. Only spurring him on, his lips find purchase on your neck instead. He smirks into your skin at the little yelp you make at the feeling of his teeth grazing under your ear. Thighs growing sticky from his raspy tone as his nose skims over the shell of your ear, following the curve. “Keys?”

Your back arches, neck extending as his fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress. Eyelashes fluttering and mouth parting as his nose and lips drag down your neck. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, as you laugh breathlessly, “Yeah, you know. Those things that…fuck,” Steve’s mouth is back on your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as his knee slots itself between your legs and you sigh. Fingers dragging down his collar and into his chest hair as you continue, “Unlock doors?”

He hums into your jaw, smiling at the way your hips roll, searching for friction on his thigh and he pulls away, hands on either side of your head again. His eyes sparkle in the low light of your hallway, his lips twitching up on one side before he speaks, “So unlock the door. What’re you waiting on?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as your fingers pull the keys out of your purse slowly. Batting your eyelashes as you try to gain the upperhand again, “What’s the matter, Steve? Growing a little impatient?”

Steve’s eyes narrow playfully, he brushes a finger across your cheek, tracing it down your jaw. Soft and sweet in contrast to the way you were just making out. He leans in, lips hovering over yours as your eyes slowly fall closed, waiting for another kiss.

That’s when his hands are on your hips again, rocking you over his thigh and you know you’re leaving a damp spot, whining into the air between your lips at his teasing. You aren’t winning this one, and you don’t really care.

“God, fuck, I-” your brain is actually short circuiting from the way his nose brushes up yours, at the scruff of his jaw on your skin, his eyes darting down to watch the way you use his thigh shamelessly.

Steve suddenly removes his leg, eyes growing dark at the pout your lips form, at the needy sigh that comes from your chest and huffs out of your nose. He smiles, voice a whisper and a warm breath across your cheek. Throwing your teasing right back at you, “What’s the matter? Growing impatient?”

Rolling your eyes, you spin, quickly unlocking the door and pushing inside. Steve can’t help himself it seems, hands on you immediately again. Keys and purse thrown somewhere to be dealt with later, he pushes you up against the door, his chest to your back as his nose brushes behind your ear.

Your fingers search for purchase on the wood, back arching into him as he leaves a trail of kisses on your neck to your shoulder, his hand slowly pulling the zipper of your dress down.

“Be-bedroom?” you gasp out as he spins you to face him, his eyes roaming over your body. His fingers gliding over the band of your underwear and snapping it, making your thighs push together.

Steve only nods, lips dragging down your chest and stomach as he drops to his knees, “We’ll get there. Just need to taste you right now.”

“Oh, I…oh,” Your head hits back against the door behind you as his nose drags over your clothed slit.

His fingers pull your underwear down and yours fall into his hair as his tongue licks a long stripe through you. Steve gently pushes your legs apart further, hooking them over his shoulders as his tongue swirls around your clit. Hands holding your ass, he pulls you closer to his mouth forcefully. Moaning into you as his nose glides through you, parting your lips before his mouth returns to them. Your fingers tug in his hair as you glance down at the way he’s devouring you like a man starved. Pleasantly surprised since most guys don’t even offer to go down on you during a hookup, and they definitely don’t find your clit the way Steve found it.

His tongue prods at your entrance, teasing it before licking back up to your swollen nerves, sucking the sensitive bead between his lips. Your thighs are already shaking around his head, whines falling from you between curses and his name.

Steve’s fingers slip through you while his tongue works at your clit under the vacuum of his lips. He pushes one finger into your entrance, squeezing at your hip when you whine. Quick to slip a second digit into you, they swirl easily, curling forward in a motion that makes you moan loudly, hand slapping over your mouth.

He breaks away, only for a second and shakes his head no. Kissing your thigh quickly and tapping his fingers on your waist, “Come on, don’t be shy now. Wanna hear you.”

Mouth back on your clit, fingers pumping into you at a pace that matches the swirl and flick of his tongue, your hand falls back to his hair, pulling yourself closer to his face desperately. Steve nods into you, pace picking up until you’re whining loudly again. Heat radiates through your body until your thighs are squeezing on the side of his head, releasing over his tongue and fingers as your mouth falls open in a gasp, eyes pinching shut.

Steve takes everything you’re giving him, slowly pulling his mouth and fingers away from you as yours relax in his hair. The sight between your thighs makes your arousal flutter again already. Stomach filling with warmth at the sight of his pink and glossy lips, rosy cheeks and rumpled hair.

He smirks at you, shaking his head before sighing dramatically. “God, how can someone who tastes so sweet,” he pulls you closer to him again, kissing your thighs before continuing, “Like olives on her pizza?”

Your laugh bursts out of you, head hitting the door again, “Oh my god, shut up.”

Steve’s fingers flex on your hips, lips dragging across the plush skin of your thigh. Eyes glinting with a dare. “Make me.”

Moving to let your legs fall and do just that, he quickly grips you harder, standing. You yelp, grabbing onto his hair, your head almost hitting the ceiling. He lets your body drag down his, torturously slow like a scene straight out of Dirty Dancing, until his hands are under your butt, legs wrapping around him and your faces are close together. He’s grinning widely, tongue licking over the top row of white gleaming at you, breathless as he asks, “Bedroom?”

You point wordlessly, swallowing at the way his muscles flex around you and the warmth of his fingertips on your spine. Your lips attack his again as he lays you on the bed. Your arms fall around his neck, pulling him to fall across you. The muscles in his forearms dance on either side of your head as he grinds against you. The denim of his jeans a welcomed friction on your sensitive cunt and you gasp into his mouth.

It’s a flurry of wet lips over hot skin, clothes thrown to places neither of you care to pay attention to. Bodies sliding together, his swollen tip catching on your clit and you bite down on his lip at the feeling, fingers pressing crescent moons into the tight muscles of his shoulder blades. You roll, landing on top of him and working your way down his body. Lips kissing at every freckle and mole you find along his chest and abs. Nose dragging across his hips, you smile when he shivers underneath you.

Your tongue licks up his length, tracing the curve of the vein, swirling around the tip. Pulling the mushroom head between your lips, Steve’s hips jerk as your tongue flicks at the pre-cum spilling out of him already. His fingers twist in your comforter, a strangled noise from his throat as your head sinks lower, cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper. You glance up under your fluttering lashes to find him looking down at you, wrecked, eyes wild as his tip hits the back of your throat, spit spilling from your lips around him.

“Fuck, fuck. Condom? Do you have a condom?” He gasps, pulling his hips down, his cock falling from your mouth as you nod to your dresser.

Steve’s quick to slip it on as you straddle him, fingers dragging through his chest hair. He sits up, arms circling your waist and yanking you down closer, pulling a laugh from you. His teeth nip at your neck, voice raspy as he asks, “What do you want? Tell me what you like.”

Taken aback by his question, your hook ups are rarely able to make you laugh, orgasm, and be attentive. He slides between your folds, letting you hover over him and you pull your lip between your teeth as he sucks a bruise under your ear.

“This is…is good,” you gasp out as he pushes at your entrance.

Steve nods, guiding you to sink down onto his length, fingers squeezing at your waist as your mouth parts in a gasp, yours gripping at his shoulders.

You press your face into his neck, whining as you slip further down, taking him fully and you both groan as you circle your hips.

“Shit, take me so well, honey, that’s it,” Steve’s babbling, hands roaming up your back as his lips kiss over your chest and neck.

Your hips circle again, slowly lifting yourself up and sinking back down on him. His nose presses into your cheek, breath huffing along your jaw as he whines your name and you flutter around him. The slow drag of his cock along your walls not enough and too much all at once.

“Steve, I-” your chest is tight, familiar heat growing rapidly in your stomach and he holds you, pushing you down into the mattress, his weight falling on top of you.

Steve curses softly, pulling out of you and thrusting back in with a force that makes you both gasp around each other’s lips. It’s a dirty glide, sweat slicked bodies grinding together, moans lost in each other’s mouths. The sound of your hips meeting and your arousal filling your room drown out the way you practically plead his name. Each thrust into you feels like he’s knocking the air from your lungs and filling them at the same time. Coarse hair hitting your clit with each roll of his hips, his lips hover over yours as you throw your head back into the mattress. Your hands cling to his back, nails scratching down it as each powerful thrust shoots you higher and higher. Your eyelids flutter, you’re pretty sure you’re actually losing oxygen, leaving the atmosphere.

Steve’s name leaves your lips in a strangled gasp and he pants into your parting mouth, “Yeah? Gonna cum for me baby?”

Nodding, babbling nonsense to him, he nips at your bottom lip as your eyes squeeze shut. Your vision fills with stars, heat filling your belly as your walls clench around him as his thrusts only pick up their pace.

“Yeah?” His tone is mocking now into your lips, you can feel his smile against them. Your eyelids flutter, you’re whimpering, feeling like you’re on another planet, floating aimlessly through space. His thrusts stop suddenly and he sucks on your bottom lip before asking, “How about another one?”

Before you can comprehend the question, he’s pulling out and flipping you. Your stomach somersaults at the way he handles you so easily, almost lazy in how he can manhandle you. His palm rests against your lower back, your cheek pressed into the pillows. Steve groans as your legs spread for him. His hand comes down on the curve of your ass in a slap, not painfully. He cups it as you jolt forward and he curses under his breath.

He’s not quick about it, letting his tip drag through you and you shiver. Not pushing in until you’re begging him, “Steve, please…”

Who the hell is this guy? How does he have you begging for a third orgasm?

He slips into you, your strangled cry of relief mixing with his moan.

“Only cause you asked so nicely, pretty girl.”

Your comforter twists in your fists as his thrusts quickly turn to a brutal pace. Steve’s grip on you is bruising as you arch lower for him, spreading as wide as you can, chest heaving into the mattress. Steve’s lips trail down your spine, the cold metal of his chain dragging with them.

He falls forward, his chest against your back, hips stuttering as his hand reaches around and rubs fast and messy circles into your clit. Your name leaves his lips against your ear as his thrusts try to match the pace of his fingers.

You’re weightless, body buzzing, vibrating like you’re waiting for take off. Steve’s gasping as shooting stars dance across your closed eyelids. Your walls clench around him, sucking him in and he swears, asking you to cum please. You’re certain the entire galaxy just exploded inside of you as his hips thrust quickly, falter, and slow while your name leaves him in a breathless gasp and your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

Steve rolls off of you, your chests heaving in tandem as you both stare at your ceiling.

“That was…” Steve’s hand drags down his cheek, laughing a little.

“Yeah?” Your lip pulls between your teeth as you try to fight your smile.

It’s quiet for a second before he clears his throat, voice a whisper, “Yeah.”

Normally, a guy would be out your door by now. They got what they came for, and regardless of if you had a great time, you’re happy to see them go. This feels different, you’re a little hopeful for the first time in awhile. Wondering if you could do all of that again in the very near future.

“Um…” Steve coughs, voice trailing off as you turn your head. His hand runs through his hair as he squints at your ceiling, lips pursed in thought. Your eyes track the veins and lines of muscle in his arm up to his armpit and shoulder. To the sharp line of his jaw and nose. You feel ridiculous that your thighs already push together from want after all of that. Body heating up with embarrassment, you quickly snap your head back, eyes on your ceiling once more.

He finally sits up and questions, “Bathroom?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Right through there.” You point as you sit up as well. Your fingers cover your lips as you take in the angry red lines from your fingernails that contrast against the tan skin of his back. Head tilting as you watch him stand, smile hiding behind your hand as you watch his butt walk away.

Steve looks over his shoulder, squinting as his own smile tugs at his lips. He tries to cover himself up and whispers dramatically, “Wow. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Would if I could,” your laugh escapes you, your grin finally winning as your hand drops and he closes the door.

Steve finds you dressed in sleep shorts and a band tee, chugging a glass of water in your kitchen a few minutes later. You extend it to him, noticing he’s fully dressed with his shoes in his hand. He takes a sip before setting it down, knuckles tapping on your countertop before blowing out a long breath.

Your lips twitch as you try to fight the smile that seems to be a permanent feature around him as he looks around frantically, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Um…I guess…I should…” he trails off, watching you.

Your arms cross over your chest, barefeet overlapping each other as you nod, “Right, yeah. That was…”

He smirks, nodding as you trail off. “Yeah, it was.”

Steve goes to leave, but spins, licking his lips before rushing out, “Listen. Could we do that again sometime? Maybe I could get your number?”

The cocky and smooth man who you met at the bar, the one who just took you to outer space seems to have disappeared. The blush in his cheeks darkens, lips parted as he seems to hold his breath waiting for your response.

Nodding, you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you try not to grin while acting indifferent. “Sure, yeah.”

An awkward shuffle of him pulling his phone out and you typing your number in before handing it back to him.

You’re startled when there’s a soft press of his smooth lips against the apple of your cheek. Warm breath hitting your jaw as he whispers, “Have a good night.”

“You…you too.”

Your hand touches where he kissed as he leaves, unsure if you’ve ever been kissed on your cheek like that before.

Only two minutes later, tucked back in your bed when your phone buzzes.

You bite your lip as you pull the comforter up over your chin, typing back for it only to buzz with a response immediately.

Laughing as you roll onto your stomach, it flips when you inhale the scent of his cologne that clings to your sheets. It takes a minute for him to respond again, your eyelids growing heavy when the phone buzzes finally.

Huffing into your pillow, the smile that sits there is a welcomed friend as you message him goodnight and save his number in your contacts. Rocketman seems fitting for an idiot who takes you to outer space three times in one night.

Even if he does hate olives.

WCIL taglist: (I just used the series taglist for this, hope that's okay!)

@boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3x3

#steve harrington #modern!steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic

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leiawritesstories · 2 years ago

Note

Prompt idea based on something that happened to me just now 😂

Aelin taking a shower and rowan joins in expecting some ~fun~ only to be met with scalding boiling water. Cue mild freakout of "omfg it's so hot" and a cheesy pickup line of "only hot now that you're here" later and ~fun~ times happen only after turning down the temp...

😂😂😂😂 enjoy! <3

Heat Me Right Up

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, NSFW (TW for restaurant employees: weekend clientele)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Rowan registered when he got home was that the shower was running. At eleven-thirty p.m. on a Friday. His brows creased, wondering if something was wrong or if Aelin had just needed the comfort of the shower, for which he couldn’t blame her. Hell, he’d had a rough shift too, and he didn’t even work at the same place as she did, though they both worked in restaurants.

Rowan was a bartender at a semi-elegant hotel restaurant in downtown, and he was used to rich guests and their snooty attitudes towards the restaurant staff, and the bartenders in particular. He’d grown indifferent to the varying forms of disdain he received when snobby ladies in expensive dresses caught sight of his tattoos, grown indifferent to the hushed comments he so often overheard about him and his coworkers. No matter how hard they tried, some people simply could not be pleased.

Aelin worked at an upscale restaurant a few blocks from where he worked, her place right smack in the middle of the business district. And it was incredibly popular with the employees of the big-name businesses in the nearby high-rise buildings, real estate moguls and lawyers and tech giants and other such people. She was the floor manager for the evenings, which meant that she got the absolute joy of dealing with the disgruntled guests who weren’t pleased that they had to wait for a table, because clearly they didn’t understand that the restaurant was completely full, as well as the wonderful folks who sent back their food for some stupid reason or another, as well as the whiny complainers. Her customer service smile barely left her face all evening as she strode from one table to another, up to the hostess stand and down to the busser station, back to the expo line and the kitchen and the temporary reprieve of her office before being called out again. Once more unto the breach and all that.

She was always exhausted after her shifts, and many were the nights when Rowan came home to find her either soaking in the bath with a glass of wine or sprawled on the cough with a glass of wine and some mindless Netflix comedy playing as she unwound. They swapped horror stories and snickered about the snooty guests to help each other relax, even creating a little competition over who had the worst experience of the night.

It was a constant toss-up between Aelin’s near-nightly encounters with what she referred to as “obnoxious vegans” and Rowan’s never-ending saga of the “impossible martini.”

That night, he called a tired hello as he passed the bathroom, heading into their bedroom to strip out of his work clothes and grab his pajamas, deciding before he changed that he really needed a shower. And he wouldn’t mind taking one alongside his lovely girlfriend, no he would not.

Their shower would heat right up indeed, oh yes it would.

Smirking a little at the anticipation, Rowan knocked twice on the door and headed into the bathroom, relishing the way the warm, slightly humid air curled around him. “Hey, Fireheart,” he groaned as he set down his shirt and boxers on the counter.

“Hey, babe,” she replied from inside the shower, the frosted glass door hiding her body. “Long day?”

“And then some,” he grumbled.

Then he pulled open the door and stepped into the shower, sliding his body right behind hers beneath the--”Holy fucking shit!”

Beneath the scalding-hot stream of water.

He yelped another curse and pressed himself against the cold, tiled walls. “Why the fuck is it so hot?”

“Because you’re here,” Aelin grinned, laughing through the ridiculously cheesy words.

Despite himself, Rowan broke into a laugh, his eyes twinkling at her. “You’re ridiculous,” he sighed affectionately.

She stepped out of the spray and pressed a wet kiss to her boyfriend’s broad, tattooed shoulder. “You love it.”

“I love you.”

She grinned and kissed him, her hands sliding gracefully into his short hair. “I’ll turn down the temperature just for you, you sensitive buzzard.”

“And I’ll turn the heat up so far you won’t even notice the water’s cold,” he smirked, now taking his chance to use a cheesy, shitty pick-up line.

Aelin threw her head back as she cackled, the bright sound echoing around the shower. “Now who’s the cheesy one?” She reached over to the shower tap and adjusted the handle so the water turned warm, rather than boiling hot.

“Much better,” Rowan sighed, moving so he stood beneath the spray, still pressed up against her.

Then he slid down to his knees and licked a broad, flat stripe directly up her center, his tongue flicking around her clit.

Aelin moaned, long and loud, her back thudding against the tile as she slumped onto the wall, her legs giving way. “Fuck, Ro!”

“So wet for me,” he purred darkly. “You get yourself all nice and ready before I came in, baby?” He lapped at her dripping entrance, reveling in the way her fingers tightened in his hair. “Use your words, love.”

“Yes,” she panted, her hips flexing against his face. “God, yes.”

“Good girl.” He rewarded her by sliding two fingers into her as he returned his tongue and teeth to her core, nipping and teasing until he sucked her clit into his mouth right as he crooked his fingers and she screamed his name as she climaxed all over his face.

“Fuck,” she moaned as she stilled, “so good, babe. So good.” A wicked gleam came into her eyes as he stood back up, crowding her against the shower wall, his hands running possessively up her sides. “In fact, I think you deserve a reward for being so good to me.”

The water had long since gone cold by the time Rowan reached up and turned off the tap, keeping his arms wrapped around Aelin as he lifted her out of the shower and into her fluffy towel. Dried off, she stole his shirt, leaving him to shake his head fondly and pull on his boxers before following her into their bedroom and curling into bed alongside her.

Her fingers traced lightly over his tattoos. “How was your shift, babe?”

“Rough,” Rowan mumbled, stroking his fingers through her damp hair. “Had that one goddamn couple again--y’know, the pair who refused to accept anything less than the finest?” His voice turned high and snobby as he spoke those last few words.

Aelin snickered softly. “Oh, I’ve heard of them.”

“Well, they were back again with a vengeance. I swear, there wasn’t a single goddamn thing that went to their table that didn’t get returned at least twice. Poor servers were about to throw the food at them.”

“And you were about to dump both of the ‘wrong’ cocktails in their stupid laps, I bet,” Aelin added.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I wish. Eventually they left, though, and other than that it wasn’t a terrible night. Just...long.” He brushed his thumb over her jaw. “Yours?”

“Shitty.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Fireheart.”

She sighed, curling closer to him. “Neither of us can do anything about entitled people, Ro. I swear I spent half the night at the hostess stand dealing with all the bitching about the wait time and the other half in the 40s dealing with one particular piece of fucking work and her party of ten.”

“Gods, that sounds fucking terrible,” Rowan murmured.

Aelin grumbled something choice about that particular lady. “Damn stuck-up old biddy was just out to get free food and drinks, I swear.” She’d dealt with this lady before, since she was a returning guest at the restaurant, and every damn time, the woman had twenty things to say about how she’d been maltreated at the establishment that night. To which Aelin replied with her customer service smile and all the false charm she could muster while never allowing her to get away with having her bill comped.

“She never stood a chance against you, love,” Rowan whispered, stroking up and down her spine.

Aelin flashed her boyfriend a sleepy half-smile. “I don’t take any bullshit.”

“Which is why you’re the best floor manager there,” he mumbled, just as close to sleep as she was.

“Love you, buzzard.” She kissed him right over his heart, then resettled her head against the pillows and drifted right off.

“Love you more.” His soft voice followed her into dreams.

~~~

TAGS:

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#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fluff #and smut #rowaelin smut #answered prompt #restaurant worker au #may or may not have stolen from my own experience #restaurants are so fun #side note the reference to the 40s is restaurant speak #all the tables are numbered #so being in the 40s means being in that section of tables #trying to get caught up on promtps #sorry for the spam

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writefinch · 4 years ago

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Dear Dairy, Pt.1 (cn: noncon, Mm, kidnap, emphasis on *forced* feminization, induced lactation, milking, bondage, drugging, induction of gender dysphoria in a cis guy, things of that nature)

7th July 2018

Cold day today. I dusted off my scarves for the first time this year. Not literally, they'd been vacuum sealed and packed away when the weather turned in October. I threw out the red and yellow knit scarf, something I should have done last year, as it's far too Harry Potter. I was going to pick out the UMIST scarf but that felt a touch dull for the first scarf of the year. In the end I picked out the green silk paisley, which I felt provided a contrast with the pink shirt. I wore them with the second-hand grey Armani that I've yet to have tailored; I haven't yet decided if it's worth the trouble. I'm leaning towards yes, as I received two compliments today, one from Jason's database administrator, a charming and flirtatious--to say nothing of attractive--lady from Perth. We've talked about the possibility of meeting up for drinks at some point, and I'm increasingly inclined to take her up on the offer.

Experiment C2 is adjusting to his newfound freedom since his release last week. It was sad to see him go, and I'll cherish the time we spent together, our first night especially when he violently objected to the idea of servicing me. Oh, how he kicked and fought, clawing at his neck chain, scratching me, biting, swinging wildly. He bloodied my nose rather viciously and left me in no mood for sex that night, to the extent that I almost let him go entirely.

Of course, his demeanor changed altogether after I bagged him. A clear plastic bag over his head, taped around his neck, watching him gasp and writhe for air that isn't there, screaming his silly little head off until he's sure that he's taken his final breath, then tearing a tiny hole over his nostrils. I let him suck in four generous lungfuls of air before I bagged him the second time, and I went through seven bags before allowing him a rest. After that he became such an agreeable and solicitous cocksleeve you'd have thought he was raised in a merchant marine!

Still, he was unsuitable both physiologically and psychologically for the experimental interventions, and I only have so much space in the cellar, so I had to let him go. Some of my social acquaintances are keeping a close eye on him. He's been told that running his mouth will lead to nothing but the cold grave, and I believe he's a bright enough lad to take that to heart.

I'm beginning the search for his replacement tomorrow.

20th July 2018

I've found him! I've found him I've found him, he is everything I've been looking for, he is perfect, it is as if God placed that boy on earth for no other purpose than my need for him. I can barely contain my excitement.

He is an itinerant surf bum, twenty years of age, single, underemployed, estranged from his family. He has flowing blond hair, a few wisps under his chin that can barely be called a beard, deep brown eyes, and a lithe, rangy figure that seems to be slowly growing into the top-heavy carrot-shaped build of a classic surfer. He's been living in town since May, surfing most days, doing temp jobs, lodging in the spare bedroom of a friend of mine.

What a perfect physique! His body is accustomed to being dashed over rocks and whipped by surf, what fun I will have finding and surpassing his tolerances for pain! Oh, to restrict and ration out air to a boy who has trained himself to hold his breath underwater since he was a young teenager, to see those taut muscles stretched over a rack, I cannot wait, I can't wait.

I won't speak or write his name. I now take every action with the foregone conclusion that he is mine, and that he is already Experiment C3. In my mind, he is already in my cellar.

My friend has kindly allowed him to get behind on his rent, and C3 apparently plans to move to Sydney in ten day's time, driving out across the country in his decade-old Ford Ka, surfboard strapped to the roof. When he disappears a few days before that, people will assume he left to avoid paying his rent.

They won't be wrong, in a sense. C3 won't be worrying about rent for a long, long time...

26th July, 2018

It hasn't been an easy choice, and it is in fact a decision I've been struggling with for some time now, but I've decided to let my hair go grey. I'm almost forty for heaven's sake, and I noticed my first grey a year before the financial crisis. Ever since then I've been religious in my application of dye and toner, carefully concealing each and every one of the pale little buggers that pops up, but it's gone from something I'd do after a haircut to something I'm doing twice a week. I won't rush it, I'm going to ease off the dye over the course of the next year or so, but by next July I'll be au naturelle salt and pepper.

Work remains dull but tolerable. I know I'm blessed to be able to do most of my duties from home given my hobbies, but there's a certain sense of removal from everything, as if it's not really a job at all and I'm back at university doing a coursework-intensive compulsory module. On the other hand, I do enjoy going to the office in a way that I did not when I was going there five days a week!

Experiment C3 is screaming his head off again, I think. It's very faint, and I've turned off the air conditioning in the sitting room so I can hear it coming up from below. I suppose I can't blame the boy, given the circumstances. He hasn't seen me since the drugs wore off, and he's in the same configuration I first kept C2 in: his feet are in snowboard boots and locked into clips in the floor, his neck is in a steel collar connected to an eyebolt on the floor by a one-metre chain, his wrists are cuffed and pulled up towards the ceiling by another chain, he has noise-cancelling headphones strapped over his ears blaring white noise, and he's wearing a blindfold snug enough to prevent him from even blinking underneath it.

He's been there for seven hours now, since three in the morning. He can neither stand nor sit nor lie down, he cannot turn around, he cannot see--though it is pitch black in the cellar even if he wasn't blindfolded--he cannot hear his own voice, and I very much doubt he has any idea how he got there.

As I said, I haven't been down to see him properly yet, so I'm monitoring him at a distance via CCTV and also his pulse and blood oxygen readings. I'm keeping him watered through an IV drip and I'm not at all worried about feeding him just yet, though I'm sure he'll be getting hungry given that I emptied out the contents of his guts with an enema while he was still unconscious. I want him properly good and woozy from sleep deprivation before I introduce myself, either forty-eight hours or until his vitals get a tad skiffy, whichever is shorter. By my word, I am not an impatient man!

Of course, given the close monitoring required, I'll only be getting a few more hours sleep than he will. I suspect I'm getting the better half of the deal. Ah, the poor thing just wet himself. He needn't worry, it's all going into the bucket between his feet, and it'll go to good use later.

I've calmed myself down since his capture, for practical reasons as much as anything else, but I am still abuzz with energy. I am already looking forward to writing my next entry!

28th July 2018

I introduced myself to C3 today.

He spent an impressively long time in the stress position before he was unable to push his legs and instead dangled from his wrists, almost twelve hours, at which point I let the wrist rope go slack and allowed him to collapse. To prevent him from sleeping I intermittently blasted him with high pressure cold water whenever his pulse dropped below 100, for about a further four hours until I decided he'd had enough rest and strung his wrists back up.

He lasted five hours that time, so I let his wrists down again and stood sentry with a paintball gun, giving him a good and proper three-round burst whenever he stopped whimpering. Up again, barely an hour, down again, where I pinned him to the floor with wiring from an electric fence, set to deliver low-intensity zaps across his arms and chest whenever it seemed as if sleep was a possibility. He only got a few shocks, I think the first few put him in such a state of alarm that he didn't dare relax enough to be given another.

I strung him up a few more times, sometimes combining the motivators--his quivering thighs made a delightful target for paintballs as he tried to hold them in a crouching squat--until we reached the forty-ninth hour. I then played my recorded introduction tape through his headphones. It was identical to the one I'd played for C1 and C2, which was itself similar to the one recorded for B4 through B9.

Of course, as the deaf and blindfolded boy was crouch-squatting in place hearing my voice tell him that his old life was forfeit, that he was livestock now, that he would be used as a sex slave, that disobedience would only lead to misery, and the details of the hormone treatments he would be on, I was standing in front of him, masturbating.

My timing was impeccable. Just as the last lines of the recording said "if you're wondering when you'll meet me, I'm right in front of you," I came all over his whorish face. I'm afraid I'm no Peter North, I've no more than four spurts and the first one is always rather watery, but I nailed him right between the lips with one burst and smeared the rest over his face with the tip of my cock. He froze up rather delightfully during the whole ordeal, barely flinching as I cleaned off the tip in his hair.

I took the microphone and spoke directly into his headphones. I told him he'd been in his predicament for two days so far, that he was to obey my simple instructions, and that if he did he would be allowed food and allowed to rest. I told him that I would not require him to speak at any point during these instructions, and that if he so much as whispered I'd keep him strung up without food for another two days. He nodded in agreement, which earned him a hard slap, as I'd not asked him to nod or shake his head. I told him then to nod if he understood, which he did.

I freed one of his arms at a time, telling them to keep them in place and move them only as and when I told him to move them. He obeyed--a far quicker learner than C1--and I put him into the straitjacket. I unlatched his boots one at a time, putting him in ankle cuffs with a short length of heavy chain between them. I injected him in the buttocks with his first dose of anti-androgens, a painkiller, and his hormonal cocktail, and I removed the IV from his arm.

At that point I led him to his cage, a 2x3 metre cell, 1.5 metres high. I removed his blindfold, though it did him little good as it was pitch black in the entire room--I'd switched off the lights and was working via a set of light amplification goggles--and pushed him onto the wipe-clean bedroll.

"Lie still like a good little boy until the lights turn on, and then you can help yourself to some food," I said to him. He made a sound as if to respond, then silenced himself, lying still in his bonds.

The lights were on a timer, and they came on harsh and bright when I was upstairs, watching him through the CCTV on my desktop with a fresh pot of coffee. Three of the walls of his cage were walled off with a tarp, allowing him to see about a fifth of the basement through the remaining wall. Inside his cage was his bedroll, a doggie bowl full of oatmeal and bananas, a small plastic trough filled with fresh water, and a litter tray.

I considered staying up and watching him, seeing the fear grow in his eyes, his first attempt at eating cold food without the use of his hands, the humiliation of pissing in a litter tray, but I was exhausted. As soon as I've finished writing this entry, I'm going to take a well-deserved nap.

4th October 2018

The truffle salt from Coles is a waste of time. Don't misunderstand me, it's useable, it's palatable, and it has the necessary truffle aroma. "Has" is the key word there, it's got the half-life of Fermium and after a week in the cupboard it's now just table salt with black specks in it. I think I'm going to invest in some decent truffle oil at Christmas.

C3 is coming along marvelously. The combination of injections and a high-fat, high-calorie, vitamin-rich diet have had a visible impact on his physique. His skin has softened even further from a clear and healthy surfer's complexion to almost peachlike smoothness and he now has visible jiggle on his thighs, stomach and buttocks. Most importantly, he's now the not-at-all-proud owner of a set of A-cup breasts, complete with sensitive, pebble-sized nipples.

His breasts are extremely sensitive. He's told me as much directly, but I've confirmed it through experimental means. A few light stripes under the nipples with the cane used to bring a wince to his face when he first came under my care, now it brings him to his knees, and the mere sight of the thing leads him to cry and whine rather prettily.

He did have some issues with portion control, in that he wasn’t eating the full servings of food I had prepared for him. This was unreasonable and short-sighted on his part: while plain, I have not asked him to eat anything that I wouldn't willingly eat myself, and while I am not a professional cook I am certainly a talented amateur.

The solution was a simple one: if even a smear of food remains in his dish, I do not feed him for the next two to four days. I only had to enforce this rule twice, and he's finished every meal I've put in front of him for the past two months.

He's gone without sleeping for the last forty-eight hours, he's gone without speaking for the last three weeks, and I've added a low dose of LSD to his drinking water. Tonight he should be somewhat tractable for the induction of a hypnotic state. I am not trying to control his behaviour--there's nothing I want him to do that I couldn't compel him to do through more reliable means--but for an in-depth interview. In concert with a lie detector and a regulated dose of barbiturates, I am going to make him bare his soul to me.

There are a few specifics I'm interested in, such as confirming my assessment of his sexuality and gender identity, and it never hurts to shore up my security by inquiring of any planned means of escape or rescue, but in great part I am doing this for morale effect: I want him to have no respite from me, even inside his own mind. He will learn that he has no more control of his thinking than he does of his eating, sleeping or exercising.

Speaking of which, I had to leave him in an armbinder for a few nights when he insisted on doing press-ups in his cell. The additional restraints distressed him greatly, and he's seemed afraid to even move lest I restrain him further. That was back in August, and I have since acquired an elliptical trainer which I allow him to use daily, good behaviour permitting.

I will write again tomorrow with details of tonight's interview, and I only hope it's more productive than C2's interview was.

5th October 2018

Well, that was elucidating.

I left C3 unrestrained for the interview. It was his first time free of shackles and cuffs outside of his cage since he'd arrived, as I wanted him to be relatively comfortable and I was confident that his drug cocktail would prevent any serious escape attempts.

He is not a natural hypnotic subject and I was only successful in inducing a semi-trance state. I don't think he achieved a trance, but I think he believed he was in a trance, and for my purposes that was more than sufficient. He talked for hours and provided an unabridged history of his life so far. His parents, his brothers, his schooling, his love of surfing and camping, his romantic attachments and rejections, his childhood friends and bullies, his fear of dogs, his earliest memories, his deepest shames, enough to fill a short memoir.

The interview lasted for ten hours, with breaks every two hours to allow him to pee (as I'd also allowed him to drink lime cordial from a cup while he spoke) and to adjust his dose of drugs and deepen his trance state. He cried frequently and easily. He bears a great amount of shame and guilt for someone so young and so relatively innocent--raised by Catholics, naturally--and spent half of the fifth hour in uncontrollable hysterics. I let him rest his head in my lap and stroked his hair as he cried, and he clung on to me like a man drowning. Once he ran out of tears he had a bout of cathartic laughter, and after that a calm passed over him, and he remained in a state of detached, cooperative calm until I ended the interview.

Of course, most of this was filler and background information for the parts that truly interested me: his sexuality and gender identity. Both were perfect. His sexuality is less important but still delightful. He is entirely heterosexual and repulsed by men. He still has nightmares about the one time I have molested him so far, when I coated his face with cum shortly after his chapter. You wouldn't believe how hard I got as he told me that!

He sometimes masturbates in his cage, which he tells me is mostly from boredom than any sexual desire, and he fantasizes about sex with women. He has little interest in sadomasochism, no interest whatsoever about taking a submissive role, and aside from a weak interest in pegging he is plain vanilla. He has fantasies about sex in public, fucking multiple women, being woken up by receiving oral sex, and seducing older women.

His gender identity is much the same: male, through and through. He has insecurities about being slight and physically unimposing--related to bullying in school--and about being insufficiently masculine. He takes pride in the callouses in his hands and the scars on his body from surfing, and wishes that the thin, pale stubble on his face was thicker.

It's of little surprise then that he finds the changes from the hormones to be a cruel and unwanted imposition. His breast growth makes him feel powerless and disgusted with himself, he can feel his muscles weakening, the tenderness in his breasts is terrifying and degrading, and even the topic of penile and testicular shrinkage made him choke up and sob. He says that even when I allow him to sleep, his mind feels clouded and he finds it increasingly difficult to identify the particulars of his emotional state, which swings and changes in ways he is not used to.

Again, I must reiterate how promising this is. My experiments concern the induction of sexual neuroses and physical development on non-consenting subjects. C1 was unsuitable because he--well, she, more likely--was a little too keen to embrace the role I had planned for her.

C3 is sleeping now. I haven't actually left our impromptu "therapy room" and he's drifted off with his head in my lap. He needs the rest. I have big plans for him, after all.

24th October, 2018

I took a trip to the cinema today. Specifically the single-screen cinema in the back of the adult bookshop. C2 is turning tricks for the manager. I don't think it's his first career choice but for some reason he's been unable to get a job anywhere else in town. He tried being an independent streetwalker for a while, which didn't work out well for him as he was quickly picked up by the local police and treated rather roughly. Almost as if they were keeping an eye on him!

The manager of the adult bookshop got in touch with him, I believe he was waiting for him outside the local lockup in fact, and informed him of a safe, reliable means of plying his trade. Now he sucks cock in the back room cinema along with a handful of other whores in exchange for a roof over his head and ten percent of the ticket sales.

He was apparently given a second tour of the police cells for not handing his tips over to the manager in a timely and honest manner, so his left eye was still swollen shut when I saw him today. His garb was delightful: pastel pink yoga leggings with the Adidas stripes down the sides, and a duck egg blue midriff-cut t-shirt with "BOY" on the chest, with a female gender symbol in place of the O.

I sat down next to him in the otherwise empty cinema and flashed him my ticket, which had set me back $84--worth every penny--and he flashed me a charming smile. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, like all of my experiments and side projects he'd never seen me without a mask. He put his hand on my thigh and told me his name, which I've already forgotten. The feature began, a rather energetic video from the noughties with Kelly Wells, Hillary Scott and Layla Riviera, prompting C2 to get on his knees in front of me. He gagged a little when he unzipped my jeans, not because I was unwashed but because I'd applied a generous quantity of deodorant and aftershave so that he would not recognise me via scent.

I enjoyed a slow, leisurely blowjob for the next hour, where he displayed all the basic techniques I'd so painstakingly taught him as well as a few new ones he'd picked up more recently. There's something to be said about consuming porn this way, not just the oral service but also watching the film from the beginning, without skipping forward to my favorite parts or switching between videos, letting myself slowly build towards my climax at the same pace as the on-screen action. I came just before the money shot, pulling out to cum all over C2's face as Kelly Wells guzzled piss on the big screen, and let C2 lick and suck my balls until the credits rolled.

Before he or I got up, I took out $20, waved it in front of his eyes, and then used the notes to wipe cum up from his face. He flinched at the roughness, scowled, told me to cut it out, and put his hand on my leg as if to push away from me. I said three words.

"Punishment position three."

It was as if I'd reached inside him and squeezed. He let out a pitiful squeak, straightened up on his knees, pushed out his chest, put his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let his tongue hang out. I stuffed the cum-soaked banknotes between his mouth.

"Be good, C2," I told him as I stood up. He didn't move a muscle as I walked out of the cinema, and as the door closed behind me, I heard a single muffled sob. It was an enjoyable experience and I certainly needed it after the last few days because C3 has really been a handful.

It began on the weekend when the first signs of lactation appeared. C3 has been getting increasingly upset with the changes to his body, his widening hips, his weight gain, his shrinking musculature, his shrinking genitalia, and his C-cup breasts. The breasts are especially upsetting, he complains that they ache constantly and are tender to the slightest touch. In any case, when the first droplets of milk dribbled out of his nipples something snapped.

Through tears, he told me that he refuses to eat, that he cannot live with the things I am doing to him, and that I should either let him go or kill him. Obviously this is unacceptable. I told him I was not treating his request with any seriousness, and that if he did not eat his meal, he would go without for the next several days. He nodded forlornly, but still refused the food.

I strapped his hands into leather mitts to prevent him from improvising methods of self-harm, and continued as normal. For the next three days, he refused to respond to commands or obey orders, remaining silent and going limp. He wailed in pain when I caned his soles and slapped his tits, but he continued to wallow in self-pity.

He was ravenously hungry by Wednesday, but when I gave him the opportunity to eat, he would not. I left the bowl of food in his cage overnight, and in the morning it remained untouched. He had not thrown it out or despoiled it, he had simply ignored it in an admirable, if misplaced, display of willpower. I gave him one final warning that there would be serious consequences if he did not eat now. He refused, so I applied the consequences.

I fitted him into a padded restraining board, on his back, his arms, legs, chest, stomach, forehead, chin, wrists and ankles held in place by canvas straps. He could not move an inch, not that he was trying particularly hard. A hollow dildo gag with a breathing hole went into his mouth, principally to prevent him from trying to bite off his own tongue. I catheterized him and inserted a hollow plug into his backside, not overly gently in either case, much to his consternation.

Then, intubation. I fed a heavily-lubricated silicone hose into his left nostril. He thrashed and twitched, as is expected when such a procedure is performed without the aid of benzodiazepines. Undeterred, I asked him to start swallowing, lest the tube end up in his lungs. He did as much gagging as swallowing, but after a few eventful minutes I felt the tell-tale glide of it being pulled down his esophagus and into his stomach.

Once the tube was taped in place under his nose, I attached the free end to a pump until it drew fluid out from within him. A few drops of this fluid onto pH paper revealed it to be stomach acid, which hopefully meant that the hose was not in his lungs. I then attached the hose to the feeding machine, and explained to C3 exactly how it would work.

He would have his meals and water combined into a slurry, kept at a cool four degrees celsius, and injected into his feeding tube. The pressure inside the hose would make breathing difficult or impossible while the food was being pumped, and the volume of his meals--around a litre and a half of slurry--meant that each feeding would be spread out in thirty second bursts, delivered semi-randomly over the course of an hour.

As I told him this, I undid my belt and began to masturbate. Despite the obvious temptations, I had not molested C3 in an overtly sexual manner since that first facial at the beginning of his captivity. By combining molestation with removal of autonomy, I wished to impress upon him the importance of obeying me with whatever autonomy I allow him to have.

I pressed the button on the feeding machine as I approached my climax. C3 squealed and gurgled like a drowning cat from the sensation of ice-cold sludge pumping through a tube in his sinuses and down into his throat, choking as the diameter of the tube expanded enough to cut off his breathing. He thrashed in his restraints with such force that he almost moved the gurney beneath him!

Seeing tears stream from his eyes was too much, and his eyes were precisely where I aimed. I landed a good few ropes on each eye, which he scrunched shut in disgust. When the tube stopped pumping I pried open his eyelids with my fingers and made sure a good quantity of my burning, stinging cum got in each eye, then smeared the rest across his face. He tried to blink it out, with little success, and before he could do much else I applied the padded blindfold. He hates and fears the eye-shutting pressure from the neoprene padding at the best of times, and wasn't overjoyed to wear it with his eyes gunked up with sperm.

He's been like that for the last three days, unable to move, speak or see, fed three meals a day through his nose. The only interaction he's had is when I've unrestrained his individual limbs and allowed them some movement, one at a time, to prevent bedsores and deep vein thrombosis, and when I come down to grope his sensitive tits. He is only able to relieve himself through the catheter and through enemas.

After a few days of stick, he's almost ready for the carrot. Tonight I am making pork carnitas with soft tacos, which he has told me is his favourite meal. I have also purchased one of the Harry Dresden books, which he told me he is an avid reader of. When dinner is ready, I will make him an offer: he will ask me for normal food and apologize for forcing me to use the feeding tube. In return he will be allowed out of his restraints and returned to his comfortable cage, along with his favourite meal and a good book, which he will be allowed to read during his spare time as long as he behaves himself.

I hope he accepts, for his sake and mine.

16 November 2018

C3 had his first true milking today! I've been teasing dribbles of milk from his nipples with my fingers for weeks, but today the volume was so high that I had to deploy a handheld breast pump. He whimpered for the duration but was obviously relieved by the reduction in pressure. It was as if he found the whole ordeal rather humiliating.

The milk is rich, a touch gamey, and less sweet than expected. I don't think the taste will be anything to write home about while his stress levels are so high, and I think that will be the case for some time. I've taken half for myself, and I'm mixing the other half into his food.

He's been docile since the force feeding. The intensity and inevitability of the punishment is part of it, but the rewards are equally important. My deal is that he can ask for anything once. Obviously I laugh at certain requests--he's not getting a phone or a two-way radio--and some things require compromise, but otherwise I have been accommodating. His cell now contains a lamp he can turn on or off, two dozen books and graphic novels, an old mp3 player, and a box of wet wipes. His relief from the constant boredom of being confined in a cage for twenty hours a day is palpable, and he has chosen the comfort that obedience brings over the misery that stems from disobedience.

He has asked if he'll ever be free from this basement and I truthfully said yes. One day he'll be walking around outside free of physical restraints and he will sleep at night in a bed he can truly call his own, though I'm unsure if he'll ever truly be free of me. He takes comfort in the fact that he has not yet seen my face or anything that might identify me, as he reasons that I am therefore not incentivized to bury him in a shallow grave to protect myself. His conclusion is correct but his premise is wrong; he'll know who I am eventually and I still won't fear him.

I'm currently milking him once per day regardless of his feelings on the matter, and I think this has hidden from him the fact that he now needs to be milked. Without his daily milkings the pain in his breasts would become unbearable, and soon he will develop mastitis if he's not milked. This will form another important part of his development: begging for things that are distasteful but necessary. With the exception of the wet wipes, there is nothing inherently humiliating in the things he's asking for. I believe he'll find begging to be milked intensely humiliating, and more humiliating still because of the tolls I'll extract from him when he goes down that road.

A brief note on his physical changes: his breasts are bigger but they remain C-cups for the time being. There are now a striking set of stretch marks on the sides and undersides of his breasts, along with some smaller, subtler ones on his thighs and buttocks which have also thickened up nicely. At some point I'm going to give him a regular schedule of retention enemas until he gets stretch marks on his belly befitting a pregnant little broodslut. His skin is delightfully soft and I'm shaving his face daily until the home electrolysis kit arrives. The combination of hormones, daily exercise bike sessions, and a lack of any upper body resistance training has changed his physique from a surfer's build to a more bottom heavy one.

As soon as I have finished writing this entry I am going to give him two gifts. The first gift is an ear piercing. It will be home to a yellow plastic tag, a miniature version of a cattle tag. The second gift is his name. He's not C3 anymore, and he's certainly not whatever stupid name he called himself before I acquired him. He has lovely tits and he's a milk cow, so his name will be Cowtits.

Cowtits. I think it suits him.

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a-singleboat · 4 years ago

Text

Virtual Reality

Word Count: 2.4k

Request: hi! if your taking requests, i was wondering if you could write a damien x reader, where they meet through Twitch? add anything else you want i always love everything you write, thanks so much!! - anon

Warning(s): like, one swear

It was a Thursday night when you first met him, or rather, heard of him. You had been streaming for five hours heading into your sixth when you decided it might be time for you to log off for the night. As per usual, you took at least thirty minutes at the end of your stream just to talk with your viewers, usually about how their lives were going in exchange for a story from your own day.

Tonight, however, there was an influx of people asking if you’d ever heard of a streamer by the name of Damien Haas, which you hadn’t, and if you would do a collaboration with the man anytime soon. Apparently, your content was eerily similar and you were, and I quote, “Practically the female version of him, looks aside.”

“Damien Haas…” you rolled yourself back closer to your desk, hands settled on your keyboard. You typed his name into the search bar, patiently waiting for Twitch to pull up his account. You clicked into the first one, making an impressed face at the purple checkmark next to his name. You squinted at the screen. “Is this him? In the profile picture with the LEDs in the background?”

You glanced at your chat, chuckling as the viewers started spamming ‘yes’ and ‘oh my god it’s happening,’ and your personal favorite, ‘mom come pick me up the best crossover of 2020 is happening and im SCARED.’

“He plays a lot of Animal Crossing,” you observed, clicking on one of his videos and dragging the tab onto your main monitor so the stream could see it. You skipped through the beginning part, biting into a pretzel as you watched.

“He’s kinda cute,” you commented, laughing as your stream freaked out once more. There were a few people commenting what looked like it could be a ship name though you ignored it. “Shame I’d never meet him, though.”

You paused his video, taking note of the time, before rolling out your shoulders. “I think it’s time for me to head out so I’m gonna end this stream with a huge thank you to you all for sticking with me through this entire stream and if you didn’t stay the entire time, I’m glad you decided to join in on the ride even halfway through. I’ll see you guys next time.”

You ended the stream, waving goodbye to your viewers before the light went out and you could relax the smile off your face. Don’t get it twisted, you loved streaming and you loved your viewers but just like any other job, it could get exhausting at times. You shut down your monitors, the screens turning blue before fading to black. You stretched, taking your phone up from its charger and launching yourself into bed, opening your phone and clicking on Twitter.

Much like staying thirty minutes after you were done streaming to talk to viewers, you usually went on Twitter right after to answer questions and respond to DMs. This time, however, instead of opening the app to see a bunch of post-stream questions, your mentions were filled with the video clip of you saying, “He’s kinda cute,” as well as maybe a million people tagging both you and Damien in them.

Well, shit.

Soon enough, that was all that filled your timeline. You couldn’t move in one direction without running into another screencap of you admiring the man. God, you knew the consequences but something in the back of your mind was urging you to reach out to him.

After a few moments of contemplation, the lonely side of you won out, forcing you to message him against your better judgment. Without even thinking about it, you found his Twitter and sent this message:

Hey, I’m sorry about your mentions blowing up because of me tonight. My viewers recommended your Twitch to me and I spoke without thinking about it on Live.

And with no expectation of his response, you fell asleep right there with your phone on your chest and the DM still open.

You woke up the next morning with a sore neck and a dead phone, which was a terrible way to start your day. You rolled over, plugging your device into an outlet before crawling out of bed to start your day. When you weren’t streaming, you worked as a freelance editor for different YouTubers, helping their editors with their workload or even staying on as a Temp for different companies. Occasionally you edited the odd commercial here and there, but those gigs were rare.

Most recently, you had received some material from a group of YouTubers, Smosh. This job was different, however, because if you did well on this you could be looking at a permanent place of employment through their parent company, Mythical Entertainment.

You knew Mythical Entertainment, it was hard not to, especially since your aunt was one of the producers within the company, but tended to ignore everything the company did. The last you’d heard, they’d onboarded another YouTube group (which you did later find out to be Smosh, the same YouTubers whose video you were hired to edit).

After a quick shower and a half-assed attempt at a proper breakfast, you were ready to start your day. You situated yourself behind your monitors, opening the video clips that had been sent to you. The first was a sample video, something that gave you insight on what their editing style was actually like.

But imagine your surprise when you’re staring down the same man you have called cute the night before, his approximately five-eleven stance taking up one-sixth of the space. He was standing next to a blond, who had been marked as “Shayne Topp.”

Despite there being five other people in frame, your eyes kept moving back to Damien’s figure, watching his mannerisms through the screen and laughing along to his jokes when they fell upon deaf ears.

Your eyes slid over to your phone, now decently charged after sitting for so long. On your screen were dozens of notifications. There were maybe two from your mom, asking if you’d be coming home for dinner sometime that week but the majority came from Twitter. You picked up the device, unlocking and responding to your mom with a, “yes,” before opening Twitter.

Nothing much had changed from the night prior. Your mentions were still being flooded with the video from last night but newer content had been ushered in, namely fan edits using footage from your streams and, you assumed, his.

The only major difference, however, was the fact that Damien had responded to your DM from the night prior. The first message read:

It’s really no problem! My stream had mentioned your name before, too.

Followed by the second:

P.S. I think you’re cute, too.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Mr. Damien Haas, the man that you had made a thoughtless comment on stream about, also thought that you were cute. Suddenly, the fact that you had been staring at him for the past hour seemed less stalkerish and more like a blooming crush. You wrote back:

Aw, thanks! Have you seen the newer fan edits? They’re all so talented.

You cringed at yourself. A cute boy started talking to you and you’ve suddenly forgotten how to be suave, not that you really were in the first place. But still, you liked to think you had some tact when talking to people that you found attractive.

Not even a moment later, there came a response.

Yes, I have, he responded. And I agree! They are all very talented individuals.

You looked from the monitor in front of you. You had about a quarter of the footage left to go through before you could start editing but this technically wasn’t due until the following night. Feeling emboldened by the fact that he had actually responded, you replied:

Are you going to TwitchCon on Friday? We should meet up or something.

Anxiously you awaited his response, taking his silence as an opportunity to watch a bit more of the footage and take down notes according to the sample they’d given you. Roughly thirty minutes later is when the next response came in, reading as an affirmative to both questions.

You didn’t respond, choosing to leave your social media for after you’d finished editing the video. Your heart still pounded, however. Just the thought that there was a possibility for the two of you to meet was, simply put, insane. You’d just heard of the guy the night before and decided that he was going to be your latest hyperfixation.

But who could blame you? He was a nice, funny guy that showed the slightest bit of attraction towards you. It didn’t help that you were a sucker for guys that were nice to you.

Fast forward to the Friday of TwitchCon, also known as the first day of TwitchCon. You and Damien had been talking steadily over Twitter DMs and just last night you had gained his phone number, giving you even more access to the man than you had before. But of course, who were you if you didn’t tease your fans with the prospect of you meeting.

The night before, at the end of your stream, you’d given your fans the little tidbit of information that you and Damien were, in fact, planning on meeting up sometime during TwitchCon and would be greeting fans together for an hour at your booth.

That sent Twitter into a frenzy, both of your combined fans getting your ship name to trend within the hour, which confused the hell out of a bunch of locals.

It was nearing the time you and Damien had set to meet up. The plan was you’d meet around twelve for lunch, take an hour for yourselves, before going back to your booth and meeting with fans for an hour or so as promised.

You had never been more nervous than you were in that moment. Not only were you about to meet your three-day-old crush but apparently a very popular YouTuber. You tried not to let the thought mess with your head. One of your friends, Wilbur Soot (who you played Minecraft with from time to time) was poking fun at you for being nervous about meeting a popular YouTuber.

After three years of streaming and gaining a solid following, you’d think you’d be used to meeting other popular content creators. But because it was him, you found yourself unable to think straight.

“What if I fuck up?” you asked Wilbur anxiously. He’d flown in from London for this event at your insistence and because you’d offered to pay half his airfare to get there and back. He didn’t have his own booth as his arrival was very last minute, but he didn’t mind. He signed the occasional poster though his main purpose was to provide you mental and emotional support.

“You won’t fuck up,” he comforted, leafing through one of the comics a fan had given you. The entire thing was hand-drawn, which was an insane fact in itself. It looked professional, which was what blew you away when you’d received it. “Well, you won’t fuck up as badly as you did when you first met Schlatt.”

You groaned in embarrassment. “Don’t remind me.”

Long story short, you’d dumped a red in color slushy on the man accidentally after tripping over an unmarked cable. It really wasn’t your fault but the boys hadn’t let you live it down since then.

Half a moment later, Wilbur was poking your side. “Is that him?” he asked, jabbing his pointer finger into your side while looking in the opposite direction. He was looking at a familiar figure walking down the hallway toward your booth. He stopped for a moment to take a photo with a fan, talking to them about something, before continuing on his way toward you.

Your eyes locked and you gave him a smile while trying to beat Wilbur into no longer poking you. He stopped when you slapped his arm the first time, sticking his tongue at you before going on his phone. You rolled your eyes at his half-assed attempt of pretending he wasn’t about to start listening in on your conversation.

“Hey, Y/n, right?” Damien asked as he approached. You nodded, reaching out for a handshake but becoming pleasantly surprised when he instead pulled you in for a hug.

“You ready for lunch?” you asked glaring slightly at Wilbur as he made kissy faces over Damien’s shoulder. Luckily, Damien hadn’t noticed your moron of a best friend.

“Yeah, I saw this sushi place on the way in if you wanted to try that?”

“I’d be down,” you agreed, reaching behind your table to grab your bag. Wilbur was set to meet with a few other Minecraft streamers, meaning you didn’t have to worry about him while you had lunch. You looked over your shoulder, making sure everything was set for you to leave before saying goodbye to Wilbur.

Over the course of lunch, you and Damien had gotten to know each other pretty well. Once the conversation moved away from your fans and, well, work, and more into personal details, you found that you actually weren’t all that similar. For starters, Damien loved watching anime while your guilty pleasure was Gilmore Girls. The one show you both had a love for, however, was Avatar the Last Airbender, which made sense.

Another thing was that he actually enjoyed being in front of the camera while you tolerated it on most days, really only putting on your face cam for the last thirty minutes on most days. Despite that, he still classified himself as an introvert.

You returned back to your booth much later than you anticipated, thoroughly shocked at the line that had formed with Wilbur at the front of it, entertaining the fans that had shown up early to meet both you and Damien.

“Y/n!” one fan called, pointing in your direction. Immediately, the entire line turned and gaped at the sight of you and Damien walking together. You greeted them happily, stopping for pictures and verbally promising that you’d stay until you got to meet everyone personally.

“You really love your fans,” Damien observed as you put your things back down behind the table. Wilbur had set up shop on your right side, chatting with a few people at the front of the line.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere without them,” you admitted, pulling a silver sharpie from your bag. You handed a gold one to Damien. “I also wouldn’t have gotten to meet you without them, which I’m still sorry about, by the way. Your feed must have been chaotic.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded, grinning up at him. “Yes, they do.”

Permanent

@beautiful-holland @toms-order @starlightfound @grandmascottlang @positiveparker @bippity-boppity-boopa @caswinchester2000 @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch

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youllneverknowrac · 4 years ago

Text

Oscar Diaz-Summer Nights

Summer days just sitting around but when the sun goes down, I’ll be ready to party

It was officially the first day of Summer so everybody in the neighborhood was in high spirits, and like usual there was going to be party. Only this time it was being held at one of the other Santo members house since he wanted to plan a big bash for his little sister’s high school graduation celebration. That meant all sorts of different people were going to be in attendance of all backgrounds and ages. As you play out tonight in your mind you end up getting distracted when your phone goes off so you set your lipgloss down and rush over to it.

Call the ruca on the phone, let her know I'm home alone, Its Seven thirty and the sun is going down, Its a Summer night and the fun is going down, I picked her up and she looks all dolled up, Sitting passenger in my rag impala , I let her know she looks beautiful to me, The world is an ugly place but she's such a site to see

“What’s up papi?” You ask into the receiver after you answer, glancing at your alarm clock to check the time since Oscar said he wouldn’t be picking you up until later since he had to go take care of something.

“Ima pull up on you so we can dip, I finished a bit earlier than expected so I figured we could kick it for a bit before the party started.” You hear him say, his voice sort of muffled by the sound of air coming in through his rolled down windows along with the music he was playing.

“Are you asking or telling me?” You smirk as you put him on speaker so you can hurry up and pull on your outfit.

“Telling, so hurry up and pull those jeans over that ass of yours.” He reply’s smugly,”Wear those hoops I bought you too, I like the way they sparkle and shit.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” You laugh as you shake your head and jump into your too tight jeans. Your legs poking out from the ripped areas,”The only man I will ever let boss me around.” You joke

“Only women I let boss me around.”

“Don’t you forget it.” You retort as your search for the specific hoops among all your other ones, letting Oscar talk about who knows what while you finish getting ready,”Damn do you gotta pull up banging like that?” You ask him a few minutes later as you grab your phone, Oscar’s famous red car now parked in your driveway,”I can hear you all the way from Beverly Hills.”

“Fuck Beverly Hills, your ass would never be caught there. Besides you’re the one that bought me the speakers.” He reminds as you make your way out after quickly saying by to your grandparents who sat outside in the garden.

“Yeah I’m starting to regret that.” You tell him when you walkout, hanging up and sliding your phone into your back pocket,”What are you staring at fool?” You tease as you open the door and climb in, thankful he cut off the radio so you could actually talk to him.

“You.” He shrugs and leans over to peck you,”You look beautiful...sexy.” He mumbles against your lips,”Cherry?” He asks when he pulls away, a slight shine on his own lips now.

“Strawberry.” You correct him as you buckle up, your smile on full display,”You like?”

“I like everything about you chiquita.” He breaths, his head still in your personal space until your hand pushes him away playfully.

“Back up before you get smacked up.” You warn him, Oscar laughing at your remark.

“That’s my line, you copying my style?”

“It’s not copying when I do it better papi.”

“Better?” He scoffs as he begins to back out of the drive way.

“I didn’t stutter.” You tell him as you pull down the mirror so you could apply more of the gloss,”Don’t be a hater.”

“Hater my ass.”

“Hm.” You hum as you gloss up your lips carefully,”We going to your house?”

“Obviamente, why? You want to go somewhere else or que?”

“I want something from the refresqueria...I don’t know what exactly but something.”

“Yo your ass always wants to eat something.” He chuckles,”What do you want this time? Hot Cheetos, elote, tacos, or a bu...”

“Aye, if you keep it up I’ll make you buy it all.” You cut him off

“I let you get away with too much, I need to quit spoiling you. You’re attitude gets worse everyday.”

“You want me to get out of the car?” You ask smugly as you reach over and take his free hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel,”I’ll walk home and leave you all alone.”

“You ain’t walking nowhere.” He laughs and brings your intertwined hands up to place a reassuring kiss to the back of yours. You don’t respond, your smile growing wider as you look out the window.

The temp was eighty and I'm cruising with my lady, Playing some Ralphie Pagan, "Oh Baby Baby", I see my home boys and they're cruising in their rides, With their ladies sitting by their side, People think we look crazy, but I think we look classy, But then again that's only if you ask me

“Looks like the homies had the same idea.” Oscar says after he parks in the crowded lot.

“Oh the girls are here.” You say happily as you take notice of the royal blue low rider parked next to a similar car in black,”Let’s go say hi.” You exclaim, not giving Oscar time to respond as you jump out and walk over to your group of friends,”What’s up bitches?!” You squeal

“Hey girl!” The two girls say mutually as they each pull away from their respective boy friend to come greet you.

“What’s up.” Sad Eyez smiles while Joker gives you a head nod, before the three guys engage in a conversation.

“Did you guys order already?” You ask as you take notice of all the people waiting for their food.

“Yes and the line took forever. If you want you can have some of our shit, you already know Fransico’s scrawny ass is only going to take two bites before he’s full.” Sad Eyez girl, Gia, informs you.

“Yeah girl, you can have some of our shit too.” Lena shrugs,”It should be here any second, besides all these people staring at us got me feeling some type of way.”

“What who’s staring?!” Gia says loudly as she looks around, her red dyed hair flapping about,”I’ll kindly tell them to fuck off.”

“Someone staring at y’all?” Oscar asks, him and the other guys coming closer protectively.

“More or less.” Lena reply’s as she grabs a hold of Joker’s arm,”It’s fine, how could they not stare when we rolled up in the sexiest cars.”

“Period.” You laugh and lean against your boyfriend,”Sexiest cars and the baddest bitches.”

“Man, they just hating cause we some classy mofos.” Oscar laughs loudly,”However, if anyone has a problem they can address it with me.” He adds loudly causing everybody in ear shot to look away rather quickly.

“Shhh, before you get us kicked off the property.” You giggle and stand up on your tip toes to give him a small kiss,”The foods almost here and I’ll be pissed if I can’t eat any.” You say before letting him return to his previous conversation so you can do the same. After another few minutes a worker comes out and finds you guys with ease and hands out the items.

“Thank you guys so much, I’ll see y’all tonight right?” You ask after taking a bite of your chile covered fruit minutes later.

“Most definitely! See you in a bit!” Gia calls as she hangs out the window as Sad Eyez drives off. Jokers car following them with a honk.

“Let’s go bebe.” Oscar says and ushers you toward the car, opening the passenger side door before heading around to his side. Wanting to get in some alone time before tonight started and he would have to share your attention.

My homeboys throwing a back yard boogie, So every body gets together to unwind, relax and have a fun time, The DJ is spinning so I grab the mic and be like, Ain't nothing like them summer nights, The party is packed with beautiful woman and, A gang of the homies that want to get with them, And they'll say anything just to hit em, And its usually a nice summer night when they did em, Idon't know, it must be something in the air, Can't help but have a good time, because the feeling is there, To some people the feeling is rare, They're at the pad saying God dam I wish I was there, To have a drink, have a tok and hook up, With some one fine but the kind that looks up, Got to keep some pisto in the cup, Party until the sun comes up or we give up

After spending time with Oscar at his place for a while you guys ended up going to the party that was now in full effect when you pulled up. You head to the backyard hand in hand before finding a few other Santo members and taking a seat with them, well you sat on Oscar’s lap of course as you looked out at the swarm of people. You sigh contently as you lean back against him, listening to his conversation and laughing when he did since you could feel the rumble of his chest.

“Look at Cesar.” You whisper in his ear as you watch the younger Diaz flirt with some girl.

“He ain’t got no game.” Oscar says teasingly,”See.” He says moments later when the girl walks away rather quickly.

“Stop, he’s trying.” You laugh and shake your head when he goes straight to another girl.

“He’s failing.”

“Didn’t it take you three times before I finally said yes to go on a date with you.”

“Aye that was a long time ago and we’re talking about him, not us.” Oscar smacks his lips as his fingers dig into your side.

“I’m just saying.” You giggle before turning your head so you can kiss his cheek,”You want a drink?”

“Corona please.”

“I’ll be right back.” You nod and get up so you can go in search of a cooler. You retrieve two cold bottles before making your way back and sitting back down on a awaiting Oscar.

“Thank you Chiquita.”

“You’re welcome.” You tell him before taking a sip of your drink. The rest of the night being spent socializing or forcing Oscar to occasionally dance with you.

As I close out my summer night and say good night, Its time to put the top up and park it, drop it, Unplug the ground, roll up the windows and lock it, Walk into the pad and fall into bed, As she lays on my chest to rest her sleepy head

“Tonight was fun.” You tell Oscar sleepily as you lay on top of him, now dressed in one of his t-shirts.

“It was good seeing the whole neighborhood click up like that.”

“Yeah...Summers the best.” You hiccup,”I might still be a little tipsy. Just a little.”

“I could have told you that after your fourth beer mami. I thought I was going to have to carry you out of the party.” He laughs as he lazily rubs your back.

“You should have carried me anyway, queens shouldn’t have to walk.” You laugh softly,”Am I a queen?”

“Mi reina.” Oscar reassures you with a kiss to the top of your head

“Good answer.” You yawn as your eyes flutter close,”I love summer.”

“Me too, I love summer nights with you the most though.” He admits,”Go to sleep mami, we’ll continue the party tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He nods, holding your body to his until you’ve fallen into a deep slumber and he’s done the same. The first night of Summer taking a toll on the both of you, luckily you guys still had three more months left of it to enjoy.

#spooky diaz #spooky x reader #netflix on my block #on my block imagines #netflix #freeridge #omb #on my block season 3 #one shot #omb season 3 #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz

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otakween · 4 years ago

Photo

07-Ghost - The World (Part. 3)

Episodes 21-30 of the 07-Ghost radio show! Aww man, I’m really sad it’s over. I had a lot of fun listening the whole way through. It definitely made me a Namikawa Daisuke fan. I look forward to spotting him in another role!

Episode 21

Kuroyuri VA’s second episode. Honestly, she was kind of annoying (sorry!) She wouldn’t stop cracking up at everything and it made the whole episode very chaotic. They started out by discussing: their ideal birthdays and nicknames they’ve had in their lives. They then played a “what would you do?” game where they had to pick the most popular reaction to various scenarios. This time the punishment was to speak like a servant/butler. The loser was...Namikawa of course (lol every time!)

Namikawa failing at keigo was honestly the highlight of the episode for me because, same. Apparently this episode came out close to the end of the anime. Funny that the show would go on for so long after the show was already over. I guess because the manga was ongoing and they still had DVD sales to boost?

Episode 22

The first no-Namikawa episode in a long time (another scheduling issue). This time though we got two guests: Castor and Lab’s VAs! Saiga called it a “church special” lol. It did feel like a mini reunion. The opening discussion was “what do you do to calm down when you feel stressed.” Lab’s VA said he likes to be alone/have alone time. Castor’s VA said he likes to eat sweets lol. Maybe it’s because Namikawa wasn’t there to react, but they barely read any fan mail.

For a game, since Lab’s VA was there they played a “flower language” game where they had to guess what each flower signified. Somehow the flowers were also connected to birthdays? I tried to Google this but couldn’t find much. I want to know my birthday flower! Anyway, the final corner was a “Last Supper” where they ate something that was supposed to taste like chestnut and another thing that was supposed to taste like sweet potato. For once, both experiments were yummy.

Episode 23

In this episode Namikawa comes back and so does Lab’s VA (sorry, I should probably learn his name). I was honestly pretty relieved to hear Namikawa again because he’s really the heart of the show. They discussed their blood types and caught Namikawa up on what he missed in the last episode. I finally looked up what the heck “Namikawa ga Kamu” means (the name of one of the corners) and I think what they’re going for is that he snaps at the listeners who send him ridiculous mail lol. Kamu has a bunch of different meanings so it took me awhile to get that.

They played another flower-themed game. This time they had to guess which flowers out of a bunch listed were currently blooming. They kept saying “ah that one blooms in winter, huh?” and I was like “wtf? Nothing blooms in winter!” Damn you Japan and your higher temps! This time Saiga and Lab’s VA lost and their punishment was to speak like a maiko (I didn’t even know maiko had a unique speech style). The final segment was responding to listeners worries but I honestly struggled to understand what they were saying and spaced out a little, oops! Lab’s VA said he wants to come back, but was disappointed in the lack of food this time around lol.

Episode 24

Wow, a Bastien episode, how unexpected. I honestly forgot what Bastien sounded like because he was in so little of the anime, but he has a nice, deep voice. Probably second deepest after Ayanami. It cracked me up how he and Namikawa bonded over how they both voice dead guys. The started the episode out by discussing what kind of food they like to eat in November and then talked about how popular/unpopular they were in their younger years. One fanmail asked what they would give Teito as a birthday present and no one really knew what to say LOL (it is a hard question). Namikawa said a camera and Bastien’s VA said “Mikage” loool.

I thought the game they chose for the Bastien episode “find the impostor” was clever, but it was hard to play along. It was another game where they had to pick “which one of these doesn’t belong” out of a list of 07 Ghost things, but they didn’t clearly read out the options so it wasn’t super interesting to listen to. Bastien’s VA lost and his punishment was to talk like a country bumpkin for the next segment. They ended the episode by doing the confessional-like corner and listening to listener’s sins. Amen.

Episode 25

Another Kuroyuri episode! I guess she was really available lol. This one was recorded around Christmas time so it was slightly Christmas themed. They talked about sock fetishes (for some reason lol) & read some more chaotic fan mail. One girl that wrote in claimed to be from Namikawa’s elementary school and they freaked out.

The game they played this time around was “what do you want for Christmas” where each person listed a bunch of things they might want for Xmas and then the others had to guess what the correct answer was. Kuroyuri asked something along the lines of “what cup size boobs do most women want?” I’m used to boobs coming up a lot in stupid anime so I was kinda surprised to hear real people have that conversation lol. Namikawa was clearly uncomfortable and gave the “I think size doesn’t matter” speech haha. (By the way, the answer was C cup). Namikawa lost as usual and had to use “reindeer speech” for the following segment. His interpretation of this was to add “tona” at the end of every sentence (because tonakai = reindeer).

The final segment was Last Supper and they ate things that are supposed to taste like melon when you eat them together (white chocolate + apple juice, cucumber + honey). Apparently neither hit the mark but at least they weren’t too gross this time.

Episode 26

Jun (Hakuren’s VA) returns! They call him “Jun Jun” which is way too cute. I think he’s one of my favorite guests, just cuz he’s so iconic and has great energy for radio. In this episode they discussed what color each person would be (Namikawa = orange, Jun = black, Saiga = blue). They also discussed New Year’s resolutions because this was recorded around January. They played an 07-Ghost themed version of karuta which was fun to play along with. Guess who lost? (It was Namikawa lol). I totally didn’t get what his punishment was. He had to talk like “maro/daimaro” and I couldn’t figure out via google what the heck that is.

In the final segment they gave advice to listeners. One listener asked what they should do about a mouse problem. Namikawa at first said “move” but then changed his answer to “get a cat” lol. Very inspired. Only 4 episodes to go~!

Episode 27

A rare no-guest episode. Namikawa seemed very fed up and low energy in this one lol. This was recorded in January so they discussed new years again. It’s kinda cool hearing time pass in these. Oh how innocent times were back in 2009/2010. The only thing that really stood out in the beginning of this episode was that one listener called Namikawa “Namikawa D-Cup-san” and Saiga and Namikawa died laughing. This was in reference to a past episode where Namikawa called himself that but he acted like he never said that loool. Honestly, the best part of this show is just hearing everyone laugh at dumb jokes.

The game they played this time around was pretty creative. Basically while one person was blindfolded the other had to help them draw a picture of a 07 Ghost character with verbal instructions. As they did so, they had to stay in-character. It was really funny hearing Saiga switch from polite Japanese to Teito’s feral speech style. You don’t really realize how cartoony anime character’s are until you hear natural speech right next to it (or maybe that’s just me lol). Namikawa lost again (I felt bad for him this time cuz he sounded genuinely disappointed) and his punishment was to stay in Mikage-mode until the end of the episode. He said acting so “pure” was exhausting.

Episode 28

Another Haruse episode. He was really cute in this one, he admitted that he was nervous about doing radio and was worried his voice would shake haha. They again talked about New Years and New Year’s resolutions. They also took some kind of “psychology test” where they had to describe what color/pattern handkerchief they’d want to receive from a girl. The color handkerchief = the color of panties they like or something stupid like that lol.

For the game, they had to put 07-Ghost characters in the correct order. Saiga had to order the ghosts, Haruse’s VA had to rank the Black Hawks, and Namikawa had to organize a bunch of characters in the order they’re introduced in the manga. Pretty difficult. Everyone did about the same so they had to do rocks, paper, scissors to decide the loser. The loser was, of course, Namikawa. His punishment was to sing everything like an opera singer for the next segment.

The final segment was giving advice to listeners. One person asked for advice on dating someone older than you and another person asked about giving “the talk” to their younger brother lol. At least I think that’s what they said. These advice portions have some tricky Japanese.

Episode 29

The first Konatsu episode, it’s interesting to see them bring in new guests at the very end. Konatsu was one of my favorite characters so it’s unfortunate that I found his VA really annoying lol. His style of humor was to just repeat the same obnoxious thing over and over again and I found it really grating. This was recorded in February so they discussed how much you should spend on Valentine’s day chocolate. They also asked Konatsu’s VA what kind of character Konatsu is and he basically said “I had like no lines, so I dunno” lol. Too true. I forgot Konatsu was even in the anime.

For the game they had to pop some balloons and the more hearts they got the better their score was. (I guess they put heart on pieces of paper and stuffed them inside the balloons?) For once the loser was the guest and Konatsu’s VA had speak in a Kansai dialect for the final segment. The episode ended with “The Last Supper” and they ate avocado with vanilla ice cream, which apparently is supposed to taste like mango.

Episode 30

The grand finale! They actually called it that too. I wasn’t sure if they were going to acknowledge this as the last episode but they made it special. They did a lot of reflecting on how far they’d come and how the show seemed long and short at the same time. This was an hour long episode but they basically spent the entire time reading listener mail (which is my favorite part anyway). No games, no guests. Namikawa’s “kamu” corner got special background music for the first time. Most of the listener mail was people saying their goodbyes and being sad that the show was ending.

At the end of the episode some staff person came into the studio to thank Namikawa and Saiga for their hardwork and to give them chocolate. Very cute. The depressing part is that both the hosts and the listeners were talking about “if season 2 happens...” which obviously never did. Pooor 07-Ghost :’(

#07 ghost #07 ghost the world #radio

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oldfashionedmoth · 4 years ago

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Good Vibrations

Find it here on AO3

“Phasma?” Julie typed into the group chat. She had received a new Oculus VR headset for Christmas, and she was anxious to try it out. “Hopefully the gang are up for a game of Phasmophobia tonight” she thought.

Before long she received responses from her two best friends, Jake and Will. They were both in.

“Hey, does anyone mind if I invite my friend Gus to play too?” Jake asked.

Julie rolled her eyes, and stared at her phone, praying for Will to say no. Gus is a total tool, but she didn’t want to be the one to say so.

“…”

Will was typing!

“C’mon, c’mon. Tell him to batter-da-Jesus!” Julie thought. “He just gets in the way”

But alas, his reply to Jake was “Yeah, sure! The more the merrier.”

“You’re too nice, Will, but I guess that’s why I like you” Julie thought with a smile, as she replied with a simple thumb’s up emoji. “Oh well, I guess we’re going to have to babysit Gus again, tonight”

She fired up her sleeping computer and logged onto Discord, and the game.

“Can everyone hear me?” she inquired

“yep”

“yup”

Jake and Will replied in tandem

“Guuuuusssss? You there?” Julie asked

Silence

“GUS???”

Silence

“Is Gus playing with us or what?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m here.”

“Nice of you to join us.” Julie can already feel her blood pressure rising.

Will, who had already amassed a small fortune in the game, loaded the equipment for everyone playing.

“Thank-you, Daddy.” Julie said with a smirk, as she slid her VR headset on.

“You know how I feel about that word!” retorted Will; his protest sounding more flirtatious than threatening.

“What’s wrong, Daddy? You know I love my sugar-daddy.”

“Oh, you love me now? This is a new development” Will purred

“Haha, alright you two!” Jake interjected. “the sexual tension is weirding us out. Right Gus?”

“Gus?”

“He might be AFK?”

“What the flip is he doing AFK? We’re about to start now!”

“No, I’m here.” Gus finally chimed in.

“Ok, are we ready to do this? Will asked. “I vote for Intermediate, Grafton Farmhouse.”

All parties agreed, and the game transported them to the truck. Jake, and Will began memorizing the information on the whiteboard, while Julie practiced getting used to using VR.

“Witness a ghost event, stop the ghost from hunting with a crucifix, and get a photo of dirty water. Ugh! This has to be the worst combo of tasks” Will lamented. “Name is Mark Taylor”

“Hey Mark Taylor! Where are you motherfucker?” Gus yelled.

The others turned around to discover Gus had already left the truck and had Leroy Jenkins’ed himself into the haunted cabin, ahead of the others.

“Gus, man, why did you do that?” Will interrogated him, “You started the clock before any of us even had our equipment picked out.”

Gus ignored him, and continued to yell obscenities at the ghost. The others quickly picked their equipment and followed inside.

“Boner Alert!” Julie exclaimed, shortly after entering. She took a picture of the bone evidence, that was in the kitchen, and picked it up.

“Well, that’s great! Your boner will go nicely with my caulk.” ribbed Will, standing in front of her, with two tubes of caulking he found in the storage area.

Upstairs, they could hear Gus yelling “Hey pussy! Hey Dickhead! Are you afraid of me? You prick. Mark García, show yourself!”

“Hey Gussss,” Julie remarked, “It’s Mark Taylor, not Garcia. And how about we NOT antagonize the ghost before we have to?”

Gus started shouting “Hey Mark Taylor. Mark! Marky-Mark! Where’s the funky bunch?”

Jake called from upstairs, “We got freezing temps!”

They all converged on the landing at the top of the stairs, when Will’s EMF reader went off. “We have EMF of 5 too.”

“I’ll go out and get the video camera from the truck” Julie said

“I’ll come too. I’ll stay in the truck and watch for orbs, once you get the camera laid down” said Will

On their way out of the house they notice a bunch of plates and cutlery on the ground. “Hmm, looks like someone is already starting a yardsale” Julie mused.

“Yeah, probably Gus!” Will said, chuckling

They barely exited the building before the front door slammed shut behind them, and the lights inside the house start flashing.

“It’s hunting! Hide!” Will said to the two others, still trapped inside.

After a few minutes the flashing subsided, and Julie went back inside to lay the video camera down.

“I found a voodoo doll.” Said Jake. He threw it down and it scampered across the floor. Julie took a stationary picture of it, as evidence. Jake picked the doll back up and said “I’m going to take him with me.”

Gus was standing in the corner by himself, singing “Yo, it’s about that time. To bring forth the rhythm and the rhyme. I’m a get mine, so get yours. I wanna see sweat comin’ out your pores…”

Will called out from the truck, “We have orbs! It’s a phantom. We have the ghost event objective now too. All we need now is the crucifix and photo of dirty water”

Suddenly the lights started to flash again. Everyone shut up and disbursed to hide.

When the hunt was over, Jake went back to the truck to get a crucifix. “Hey, does someone already have a crucifix laid down? There’s only one left here”

“No, not me.” Julie replied.

“Nope, me either” said Will

“On the house tip is how I’m swinging this. Strictly hip-hop boy, I ain’t singing this. Bringing this to the entire nation. Black, white, red, brown. Feel the vibration…” rapped Gus

The flashlights started flashing again. “It’s hunting!” they all say together.

“It’s following you, Gus” Will whispered from the truck. “run!”

The ghost chased Gus around the cabin for a while, before eventually running out of steam. The hunt ended with Gus narrowly escaping being killed.

“This is no fun! Why is it targeting me?” He whined

“Well, I dunno, it might have something to do with you saying its name a thousand times, and you won’t stop singing that stupid song?” Julie exclaimed, exasperated “And why are you still holding the crucifix? Put it down, for the love of God, man. It doesn’t work if you’re just holding it!”

But it was no use. She had already lost his attention, and he was on his way back to the truck for more supplies, singing, “It’s such a - GOOD VIBRATION!!”

Jake laid down the crucifix he had, and before long Will was calling from the truck “You got the crucifix objective. Now all you need is dirty water.”

“Do you guys hear water running” Julie asked. Will and Jake said no, they didn’t hear anything besides Gus’ singing.

Julie checked all the sinks upstairs but found nothing. But she could still hear the tap running. She went downstairs to check the kitchen sink and discovered Gus’ little art project. He had found the Ouija board and had encircled it with all the candles and glow sticks from the truck.

“I made a séance circle!” Gus proudly exclaimed, before asking the board “Where are you?”

The planchet slowly moved across the board. D-I

“Dining room?” Jake guessed. “I thought for sure it was upstairs”

E-G-U-S

“DIEGUS? What’s DIEGUS?”

“Die Gus?” Julie suggested

For the first time in the game, Gus was completely quiet. A pregnant pause suspended between the four players. Finally, Gus said “Ahh, you know what guys, my connection is being kinda glitchy tonight.” And with that he dropped out of the game.

Will laughed and said “I don’t think his computer was being glitchy. He just got spooked. That’s a really cool addition to the game, though. They must have added the capability of the Ouija board to use our own names, in the latest update.”

“Yes, very cool!” Julie replied, except her voice came out deep, and robotic. “Ooh, I take it back! Maybe it is being glitchy tonight. Hahaha!”

Will and Jake both burst out laughing at the absurdity of her voice.

“That was so creepy!” Will exclaimed. “You sounded demonic! Hahaha!”

“You know what, we’re never going to get the dirty water. Do you guys want to just call it?” Jake asked, “whatever issues we are having now, might fix itself in the next round.”

“Yeah, I’m done with this one. Come back to the truck.” Will replied

Once in the truck, Jake aimlessly tossed down the voodoo doll he had been holding. Instantly, the doll skittered towards Julie, made a leap, and attached itself to Julie’s face.

In her room, Julie screamed and tore off her VR headset, her heart pounding from adrenaline. She’d never seen the doll do that before. “There must have been a few new updates” she thought, “very creepy additions!”

Julie considered putting the headset back on, but hesitated. She was still shaken up by the image of that gingerbread man-motherfucker flying at her face.

“Do I hear water running?” she said aloud. She thought for sure she could hear the faucet on, in her en suite bathroom, but that was impossible since she was home alone and the front door was locked.

Suddenly, the lights start flashing on an off. No, not the lights. Her vision. Julie’s vision was strobing between 20/20 to complete and utter darkness. Panicked she got up and blindly stumbled across her room and into the bathroom. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she could see movement by the toilet, but she was thrust into blackness before she could investigate further. When her vision returned, nothing was there.

The sink, however, was turned on and filling up with putrid sludge.

Julie threw herself across the room, and felt around for the tap to turn off the faucet. As suddenly as her eye malfunction came, it returned to normal. Gone was the blinking blindness. Julie’s heart hammered inside her chest. “What the fuck was that?”

*ding ding* chimed Julie’s phone. She’d just received a text. With a sweaty shaky hand, Julie fished her phone out of her pocket. It was a text from Gus. But it wasn’t from the group chat. It read,

“Sure, I guess. But aren’t you still playing with the guys?”

Confused, Julie scrolled up to read the text before this one. It looked like it came from her, but that was not likely. Gus was Jake’s friend. He’s only played with them a few times, and she’s only messaged him in the group chat before. Why would she ever private message him? It read,

“Sorry you got booted from the game. Do you want to play with me now? Just you and me?”

Ok, by now Julie had started to believe this was all an elaborate prank. Playing Phasmophobia alone with Gus would be horrible! She would never text him that.

Julie began texting back “Hey sorry, I’m not really up for another round tonight. I think I’m just going to go to bed.” She saw her thumbs moving swiftly across the keyboard, but something was wrong. Were they even hitting the letters she intended to press? Looking up at the text screen she observed what she had typed. “No, I want to play with you, just you. I have a special surprise for you.”

Julie slowly looked up, into the mirror, and grinned. Except the angle of her lips were wrong; crooked and sinister. This wasn’t Julie’s smile.

Julie helplessly stared into the mirror, as something else stared back at her.

“No one calls me Marky-Mark and gets away with it”

#phasmophobia #fanfic #gaming #humor

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mtvswatches · 5 years ago

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Friends 1x22 The One With The Ick Factor

In a nutshell: Rachel has sex dreams with cameos from her friends. Phoebe works for Chandler, and Chandler learns that everyone in the office hates him. Monica sleeps with someone literally and probably legally too young for her, and it’s creepy as fuck.

Chandler: Chandler doubts Phoebe is cut out for office work since it requires being “normal”. Yeah, right. Chandler feels mortified when he learns that no only everyone around the office hates him but they imitate him and make fun of him behind his back simply because he is the boss. Chandler tags along when Phoebe goes out with the people from the office, and he tries his hardest to be likable, but they still hate him because, well, he’s their boss. Chandler finally decides to embrace his role as a boss and gives his employees some material to make fun of him, but he also uses his power to get back at them a little and have them work over the weekend.

Joey: Joey is just there.

Monica: Monica is dating who she thinks is a college senior. Their age so far has not been an issue given that she told him she was 22. Even before the real ick factor kicks in, this was already kind of shady. Like, if you feel you need to lie about your age to get with someone, then probably you shouldn’t get with them, to begin with? Monica is nervous because she’s invited him over and she’s planning to have sex with him. They end up having an amazing date, and she invites him to stay over. Before they get down to business, he confesses that he is a virgin, which doesn’t set off any alarms for Monica. During the post-sex bliss, Monica decides she should fess up, too, and tells him she’s older than she said she was. This prompts him to make a confession of his own – he is, in fact, younger than he said he was. As a matter of fact, he is a 17-year-old senior in high school. Monica is instantly creeped out, as any decent adult should be. It’s a wonder that the fact that she slept with a high school student wasn’t brought up time and again during those classic fights where everyone brings up everyone’s dirty laundry. He tries to convince her that they should continue having a relationship, but Monica does what any respectable adult would do and tells him it’s just not happening. I do have to wonder, though, what could a 26-year-old woman have in a common with a 17-year-old boy in the first place? Like, why was she attracted to him? No matter how “mature” a 17-year-old boy might be, they’re still boys…

Phoebe: Phoebe is looking for a temp job since her massage clientele has been dwindling ever since she taught a “Massage Yourself at Home” workshop. Joey suggests Chandler should hire her since his secretary is on a leave. While she does seem to get the hang of the job, she ends up getting in the way of Chandler doing his job. On top of that, she gets along with everyone around the office but doesn’t say she’s friends with Chandler because literally everyone in the office hates him. This storyline seems to have been recycled in 5x15, with Phoebe playing the same role and Ross being the one hated on by everyone, this time at his apartment building.

Rachel: Rachel had a sexy dream about having sex with Chandler on the coffee table at Central Perk. He was, apparently, a stud. Later on, Rachel admits that Joey was also a main lead in her sex dream. Rachel was super horny this week, apparently, because she ended up having one last dream involving Ross. When she wakes up, he’s right there, and she seems to be looking at him in a different light. I mean, we’ve all been there, right? Not about having sexy dreams with Ross, but having oneiric sexy times with someone who’d you never thought of in that way before and then… you know what I mean!

Ross: Of course, leave it to Ross to get jealous of Rachel sleeping with Chandler IN A DREAM. He gets very hung up on this, especially as Rachel continues to have sex with other men that are not him in her dreams. And in real life. At the same time, he’s got this new beeper (I know, soooo 90s!) for Carol to beep him if she goes into labor. However, he ends up receiving a lot of misplaced calls for a male escort. Just when he’s having a moment with Rachel after listening to her moaning his name while asleep, he gets the message that Carol is having the baby. The tag scene is reminiscent of “The One Where No One Is Ready”, as Ross struggles to get everyone on their way to the hospital and all of the characters are distracted by their own things.

One Iconic Scene:

Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi. Thanks!

#F.R.I.E.N.D.S.#Friends #Rachel Green #Monica Geller #Chandler Bing #Phoebe Buffay #Ross Geller #Joey Tribianni #FRIENDS recap #recap #FRIENDS 1x22 #mine

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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Are there any hobbies you have that you don’t perform in front of others? I like to do stuff like surveys, reading, coloring, scrolling through Tumblr, and watching YouTube videos by myself.

What’s one bad or inconvenient habit you used to have but no longer do? I can’t think of a bad habit I used to have, I still have plenty of them.

Do you find it difficult to kick a habit or a routine that’s detrimental? Yes.

When was the last time you had a particularly hectic day? My Disneyland vacation last year. I love Disneyland and had a good time, but the traveling part and spending all day at the park going all over the place is quite exhausting for me. That’s a lot of activity for me. Not to mention all. the. people.

Where’s one place you’ve spent a lot of time lately? I spend like all my time at home except for my once a month doctor appointment.

Is there anywhere you wish you could spend more time? I wish I could go on more vacations.

What do you do when you simply don’t know what to do? There are definitely days where I’m just really bored and my usual go-tos don’t cut it for me and the day just seems to draaag, but I end up still doing those things or mindlessly watching TV cause I don’t know what else to do. Or just take a nap.

When was the last time you felt you were in an impossible situation where, despite what you did, you couldn’t win? I’ve felt that way these past few years with health related things and other stuff in my life.

How did you find out about your current favorite band? I don’t have like a new current favorite.

Where are you most likely to go when you need clothing? Majority of my clothes are from Boxlunch and Hot Topic.

Is anything significant weighing on your mood right now? The usual stuff.

When was the last time you tried to do something yet failed? I feel like I’m just failing at life in general.

Do you think your life is comprised more of success or failure? Failure.

What’s one personality trait that’s not strong in you? Ambition.

Are you a difficult individual to get to know? I wouldn’t have said that a few years ago, but I would now. Well, unless you’re a follower of my surveys. I’m definitely not this open in person. Not that I was before, but what I think would make it more difficult now is the fact that I’m just so distant and withdrawn and have really just kept to myself the past few years. I’ve holed up at home and haven’t had an interest in socializing.

When was the last time you opened up to someone and about what? I open up in surveys all the time.

To whom do you feel the most important? My parents and brother.

When was the last time you changed your mind? Hm. It was probably recently, but I don’t remember right now.

Is there something you want but might not ever have? Better health.

What’s something you’re working to obtain? Nothing. That’s the problem. :/

How do you console yourself when you’re distraught? I cry and then try to distract myself.

Do you tend to enjoy your dreams? My dreams are just super random and weird a lot of the time.

What would you do if you did not require sleep? Gah. I’m glad we do cause I have no idea. There are days that just seem to drag and I want it to end and sleep is a great escape and passerby, so yeah I’m glad we require sleep. I need that time to escape myself and stuff for awhile.

Are there any projects or goals you’ve recently abandoned? I did that a few years ago and still haven’t gotten back on track.

What in life serves to keep you going? My family.

How frequently, if ever, do you want to give up? I feel that way often.

What was the last good news you received? Uhhh.

What’re some of the important things around you? My family, which includes my doggo.

How long has your favorite song been your favorite? I have numerous favorites.

In what ways does music influence your life? It doesn’t, really. Especially lately. I don’t listen to music much anymore like I used to. It’s weird.

Are you more inclined to appreciate sweet or savory foods? Savory. Lately I’ve had a serious sweet tooth, though. I’ve been eating sweet stuff a lot more often recently.

Do you prefer more hot or cold types of food? Hot.

How about hot or cold types of beverages? Hot and room temp.

Who last told you to do something and did you do it? My mom asked me to grab her something on my way by it in the kitchen and I did.

Have you ever felt as though you were unrecognizable to yourself? That’s how I’ve felt the past few years. I don’t know who this person is I’ve become, but I don’t like it.

Are you bothered by any of your physical features? Yeah, all of them.

Are romantic relationships important to you at this point in your life? No.

Who was the last person to apologize to you for something they did? I don’t recall.

Bruises and cuts everywhere? No.

Have you ever kissed someone with a tattoo? Nope.

What did you do today? So far I’ve just watched a few YouTube videos, scrolled through Tumblr, and currently I’m watching Sister, Sister on Netflix and doing surveys.

What did you do last night? Had dinner and watched the first two episodes of Wandavision and an episode of Dare Me with my mom and brother.

Last night, you felt? Alright.

Will you regret your next kiss? I hope not?

Ever had a guy best friend? Yeah, a few.

Is there a movie you’ve seen countless times? Yeah, several.

Do you hate the last guy you had a conversation with? No.

How is your last ex doing? I don’t know. I haven’t seen or talked to him in almost 5 years and he’s not active on social media.

Are you wearing a necklace, who got it for you? Nope. Is there someone who can always make you smile? My doggo.

Are you excited for anything? No.

Anything you’d like to say to your ex? Nah, I’m good.

Do you give up easily? I’ve given up in a lot of ways over the past few years. :/

Do you think anyone has feelings for you? Not of the romantic kind.

Did you deny or accept your last friend request? Deny. It was some random person and I only accept people I know.

Will you talk to someone on the phone tonight? No.

Are any of your friends taller than you?

How much money did you spend today? Zero as of now. I don’t plan on spending any money today.

Are you shy? Yepppp.

Are you completely over the last person you kissed? Yes.

Ever given your ALL to someone? Yes.

Have you ever felt like you weren’t good enough? That is how I feel.

Last thing you had to drink? Water.

Do you ever just lay on the carpet in your house? No. I don’t find sitting or lying on the floor comfortable at all.

Do you prefer ice or no ice in your drinks typically? No ice.

Are you a lazy ass sometimes? Yes.

What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done lately? Nothing recent comes to mind.

Do you ‘think out loud’? Yeah, I do that a lot.

Do you take gummy vitamins? I used to. If I took my vitamins like I’m supposed to that’s the kind I would take.

How do you know the majority of the people you know? They’re my family.

Are you one of those lucky people to own a walk-in closet? Nope.

Is there a random object you own that has a huge personal significance? Yes.

Do you use Google? Yeah, all the time.

Would you like to go swimming right now? No. It’s wintertime for one, but I don’t like swimming anyway so it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t.

Can you play electric guitar? No.

Do you have an HDTV? Yeah, I have a smart TV.

When was the last time you drank something through a straw? Just a bit ago. I always use a straw with my drinks.

Have you ever tried to teach yourself a different language? Yes.

How long was your last phone call? Like a minute.

Do you need to repaint your nails? I have’t painted my nails in years.

Has there ever been a horoscope that came true for you? Possibly. I never followed that stuff closely or actually believed in them, I used to just read them for fun when I was younger.

Are you one of those people who chew two pieces of gum, not one? No.

Do you have a wall calendar? I do.

Have you ever taken the pictures from a calendar and used them as posters? I kept a giraffe photo from an old calendar and hung it up in my room.

Can you handle the cold? A lot better than I can handle the heat.

Have you ever been to Canada? Nope.

When was the last time you took a taxi somewhere? Several years ago while on a trip with a friend. It was before the days of Uber and Lyft.

Would you ever join the army, air force or navy? No. I couldn’t even if I wanted to because of my physical disability.

How old is the person you last kissed? He just turned 30.

Is there a friend that you can always rely on to get you out of a jam? My mom.

Have you ever tried to balance the light switch between off and on? Yeah, haha.

Do you believe in ghosts/supernatural occurrences? I believe in spirits.

What was the most expensive thing you’ve broken? A laptop.

Has anyone texted you yet today? Nope.

Did you stay calm during the whole swine flu scare? No, I was really scared about catching it. It’s crazy cause now looking back it wasn’t even close to the seriousness of COVID and how easily its spread.

Is there a light on in the room you’re currently in? Yes.

Are your feet touching the floor? No, I’m sitting on my bed.

Have you ever been in a car accident? No, thankfully.

Can you focus well in high-stress situations? No. I get very overwhelmed and frazzled.

Without the aid of mascara, do you have long eyelashes? No.

Is there a kind of music you listen to that helps you release your anger? No. I don’t turn to music when I’m upset.

Are you one of those people who keep their feelings bottled up? Yes.

Is one of your friends extremely odd but you love them regardless?

Is there anyone you dread going into public with? No. I dread going out in public myself cause I feel I’m trash and I’m super self-conscious.

Are you a victim of writing run-on sentences? It happens sometimes in a survey when I’m really going off in a rant or I’m rambling about something.

Graffiti: an art or an act of vandalism? It can be both, it depends where it’s done and the purpose of it.

Do you buy things online? I do a lot of online shopping.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long survey

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nad-zeta · 5 years ago

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Could I get a Ikésen matchup please? Ravenclaw, INFP 4w5, love language is physical touch, and my intelligence type is naturalistic. Rail-thin 5’6 Bi trans man with tattoos, stretched ears and a fauxhawk. Punk/Goth bookworm with a dark and crass sense of humor. I can come off aloof/detached due to social anxiety, but once comfortable I’m the chatty mom-friend. Fave genres are horror/fantasy/trashy romance. Random fact machine. Hobbies are cooking, video games, gardening, crochet, and X-stitch.

Hi, there love! Thanx so much for the request!<3 I had so much fun writing this! I hope you enjoy ^_^

I match you with................ Kenshin

So, when you first arrived via the wormhole, you basically ran for your life from the Oda forces. Hells Nobunaga was scary, and don’t even get me started on the way Hideyoshi was glaring daggers at you. Luckily for you, you came across Sasuke and the squad. Once Sasuke explained that you were both from the same village, they invited you to stay with them. They were all extremely warm and welcoming well, all but one. Kenshin was sulking in the back and scowling at Sasuke for inviting yet another person to stay with them. First Shingen, than Yoshimoto and now you, what’s next, are they going to come across Shingen’s monk friend and invite him too. He scoffed and walked away.

Weeks to follow you had settled in nicely, you, Sasuke, and Yuki became super good friends. The three musketeers. You hadn’t seen the lord of the castle since the night of your arrival. Yukimura assured you it was a blessing rather than a curse, but still, you felt terrible for squatting without pulling your weight. And so, you decided to do the upkeep and maintenance of the castle’s garden. You loved to garden and spend time outdoors. You loved to feel the grass beneath your feet, the wind through your hair, sun kissing your skin, and the dirt between our fingers. All of a sudden, something ran at you and hopped right into your lap. A Bunny? He is so freaken soft, and fluffy, and you were in love. You loved animals and found that you could easily understand them and decipher their different behaviors. You heard a gentle, soothing voice and gazed out to where it was coming from. NO WAY! Is that infamous god of war surrounded by rabbits? To say you were shook was an understatement. You decided to go over and return the stray little bun to him. The closer you got, the more shocked you were, the rabbits were nuzzling, cuddling and licking him. Few understood the meaning of a rabbits lick; it was basically a sign of affecting their way of saying, “I love and trust you”. Perhaps Kenshin wasn’t so bad, after all.

The second this ice prince took notice of you, it was as if the temp had dropped by 20’C. You looked at those mismatched eyes and saw something interesting, loneliness. Ignoring his icy glare, you plopped yourself beside him, and immediately half of the bunny army was on your lap. It helped that the remaining rabbits on his lap glared at him as hard as he was death staring you, as if to say, back off, you can be trusted. The rabbits nuzzling into definitely helped your social anxiety as it brought forth that “chatty mom friend” part of you. To break the ice and lighten the mood, you started giving out fun facts about rabbits. Kenshin couldn’t help but raise a brow and be slightly amused. You noticed a small smile gracing his handsome face. WOW, that smile of his made him look absolutely gorgeous. He took the opportunity of you being distracted by the bun-buns to really look at you, and omw, you were breathtaking, and those tattoos of yours just did something for him. He can’t help but show a bit of interest.

In the days to follow, the two of you started spending more time together, and strangely enough, every time you were around, the voices in his head would disappear! During this time, you noticed that his diet only consisted of pickled plums and sake. You made up your mind; you were going to start cooking for him. He loved your cooking and your ability to make so many different dishes containing his precious pickled plums. He loves it so much that, one time when Shingen tried to sneak a bite of a tart that you made, he found a sword at his neck attached to a very unamused Kenshin at the other end. You couldn't help but giggle at the whole scene. Kenshin really is too cute!

After a long in-depth conversation with Kenshin’s about his past, the two of you landed up in a relationship. He loved to call you his little bunny, which was amusing, considering he was the bunny lord. The two of you were inseparable. And could always be found together in his room. He would be working on some official documents, and you would be crocheting a little jacket for one of the bunnies. You loved it when Kenshin had some time off because he would always take you to your favorite flower field for a picnic. The two of you would spend the whole day there playing with the bunnies and making flower crowns.

If its physical touch you’re after, Kenshin will be more than happy to comply. Luckily for you, his giving love language compliments your receiving love language of physical touch nicely. The two of you can often be found cuddling and sipping on some sake. Kenshin loves to kiss you and give you little touches to remind you of his love for you. Whenever he goes off to war, he will always take his most prized possession with him, which is a little crochet bunny made by you, to remind him of your love. He can never wait to return to his little bunny cause he knows once he enters the gate, you will be there waiting. Ready, to envelop him in a big hug and kiss his beautiful face.

Other potential matches........ MItsunari

#uesugi kenshin #kenshin uesugi #kenshin ikemen sengoku #ikesen kenshin #kenshin matchup #ikesen matchup #match ups #matchups

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blackandblueandstars · 5 years ago

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Midnight Sunshine Pt3

TRIGGER WARNING: Discusses violence, death and suicide.

A/N: This is the third of my follower appreciation posts for @gavryllo. Fun fact, this is the first of my fics that I've actually cried while writing, so something to look forward to.

Pt1 Pt2

Adrian was sitting in his office, drink in hand, when the temp he'd hired came in.

"Sir, you have a message from Kamilah Sayeed."

The girl handed Adrian the message. "Thank you," he said as she left.

He unfolded the message, reading.

"I'm sorry.

I can't do this anymore."

His blood went cold. He grabbed the phone, dialing Lily.

"Hello?" she said, sleep still in her voice.

"Lily," he said, "What happened after I left?"

"Huh?" she asked, disoriented.

"Lily, this is important. What happened with Kamilah?"

"She wanted to stay with Amy for a bit," she said.

"Damn it!" Adrian shouted, grabbing an umbrella and rushing out the door. The sun was already peeking through the windows.

"Adrian, what's wrong?"

"I think I just received her suicide note," he said.

"What?" said Lily.

"Meet me at the graveyard," he said, hanging up.

Adrian rushed out the door of Raines Corp, umbrella open. He got into his car, tinted windows blocking out the sun.

He ripped into drive and stepped on the gas, praying that he was wrong.

Kamilah, he thought. Damn it, Kamilah.

He tried not to think, pushing the speed on the car faster and faster. He couldn't think about losing her too. Not after last night.

He got to the cemetery, jumping out of the car leaving it running. It didn't matter.

He darted to Amy's grave, now filled in. He looked around, and the sight of ash on the headstone made his heart stop.

"No," he rasped, barely able to breathe. He sank to his knees, neck burning as the umbrella shifted. He positioned it over him, trying to breathe. Trying to make sense of what he was looking at, what was now his reality.

"I never should've yelled," he said. "I should've been there for you. I should've seen this, I should've helped. I should've known."

Lily and Jax rush up behind him.

"Adrian?" asked Lily.

"What's wrong?" asked Jax.

"It's Kamilah," he said. "She...she stayed until dawn. She's gone."

He broke into tears, the pain too much. Lily and Jax kneeled beside him, staring at the ashes.

"We shouldn't have left her," said Lily, quietly.

Jax punched the ground. "God damn it!" he shouted.

Lily put a hand on his shoulder, the other on Adrian's. They sat silently, the sun overhead.

"We should go," said Lily. "Get out of the sun."

She stood, helping Adrian up as Jax stalked back to the car.

They drove back to Raines Corp and went to Adrian's office. Lily poured drinks for everyone.

"To Kamilah," she said. "To Amy."

They clinked glasses, each taking long gulps.

They sat quietly, all lost in their own thoughts, regrets, should haves, what ifs.

"Adrian," said Lily. "She knew you loved her." She took his hand.

"Yea," he said, unconvinced. The last thing he did was yell at her. For mourning the love of her life. She was crazy about Amy. He should've been more understanding.

"None of us could've known..." said Lily, trailing off.

"I think I just need to be alone," Adrian finally said.

Lily and Jax hesitated. The last time they left someone alone...

"I'll be okay," he said smiling.

They stood reluctantly, heading towards the door.

"We'll check in later," said Jax.

"Please, call me if you need anything," said Lily.

They left, and Adrian sat, empty glass in his hand. He felt the rage surging through him. Nothing about this was right, or fair. He let them down.

He threw the glass against the wall, flipping the table. He let his rage get the better of him, throwing and punching and destroying his office.

It didn't matter. He'd just buy new things. Things were nothing. Amy was everything. Kamilah was everything. This? This was nothing.

Chest heaving, he collapsed to the floor. He felt like his heart had been torn from his chest, everything hurt. It hurt too much. He knew he had to go on, to clean up the mess that Gaius made. But he never thought he'd have to do this alone. How was he going to do this without Kamilah by his side?

He thought back to that night. He thought they were done for. They all sat before Gaius, on their knees, restrained. He was ready to die, and he turned to find Amy. And he did, but she wasn't looking for him. She was creeping towards Gaius, eyes locked on hers. Kamilah's. Of course he knew that she loved Kamilah, not him. But he still loved her, despite himself. And it stung, that in that final moment he was looking for someone who didn't look for him.

And then she died. She died, and his heart broke, and he was angry. Angry at Gaius, angry at the world, and angry at Kamilah for having the love he wanted.

But what he didn't realize was how minor that heartbreak was. He thought he was in anguish, but it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He'd hurt Kamilah, lashed out at her in her time of need. And he couldn't undo it. He couldn't even apologize for it. He just had to live with it.

Adrian sighed, looking at his destroyed office. He didn't feel better. He just felt lost.

---

Jax didn't want to feel. He'd felt too much. He just wanted to break things. So he went out into the night, ferals and Gaius supporters still rampant in the city. He would do some good, clean up the streets, work through his anguish.

He cornered a group of ferals in an alley. They charged him, and he went to work. His katanas slid through the air, cutting into them like butter. He hit with incredible force, channeling his anger into each strike.

They hissed at him, trying to overpower him, but tonight he was a madman. He severed heads and plunged fist-deep into chests, destroying them all. He stood over their broken bodies, blood dripping from his swords.

"Where was this speed when it counted?" he said to no one. He thought of the battle with Gaius. Thought of that moment of certain death, then he saw Amy. He always knew the girl was stubborn, reckless, but here she was determined to fight Gaius herself.

He thought she stood a chance. He'd always bet on that crazy girl. But Gaius was too quick. He spun, plunging the sword, Jax's sword, into her. He couldn't save her, and it was his sword that killed her. Her blood was on his weapon. It was his fault.

He'd melted that sword down, he couldn't bear to use it again. He had it forged into a necklace that he now wore around his neck. He rubbed his fingers over it, tears falling.

"I'm sorry Amy," he said. "Kamilah. I'm sorry I failed you both."

He heard the snarl of ferals behind him and turned, katanas at the ready.

---

Lily went home. She didn't know what to do or say or what came next. So she did what she always did when she felt lost. She played a game.

She murdered zombies like a woman possessed, running up points and leveling up at record speed. She zoned out, not thinking, not feeling, just killing. She stared at the screen for hours, kicking ass.

But it didn't feel good. It just felt empty. Everything felt empty. How could they have gotten to this point? They knew there was a chance that they'd die. But she thought it would be all or nothing. This, this felt wrong.

She remembered that night, Gaius possessing her, imposing his will on her. She'd never felt so helpless before. It made her sick. And she knew that death was coming.

But Amy was there to save her ass, again. She was so proud of her as she charged towards Gaius. That was her girl. Fearless, defiant, persistent. But Gaius, he was like a god-damned cockroach. He just wouldn't die. She felt her heart jump into her throat when he turned, when she saw the sword impale Amy.

Even in the face of sure death, Amy didn't give up. She ended Gaius. But it wasn't right, she shouldn't have died. They should've been able to turn her, they all should've been badass vampires together, cleaning up this mess, making a better tomorrow.

But here they were. Distant, destroyed, lost. Lily didn't feel hopeful. She felt worried, and empty. So she focused on what she could control. Killing the hell out of some zombies.

Part 4

Tag list: @h-doodles @scarlet-letter-a0114 @idkbutkamilah @lightning-fury @galaxyside-0 @blogsupitssam @ilovetaylor13m @la-guera-69 @adrianrainesworld @iam-the-fuckin-queen @itsroseelise

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chaoticneutralwriter · 6 years ago

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A Demon’s Musings

If Marie Kondo could see him now, she would be very pleased (well, as much as a person would with a demon). And though the things he used to get into don’t quite spark the same kind of joy like it did in his earlier days, he still thinks he’s one hell of a demon -- just with different priorities now.

guardian demon! Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, comedy, supernatural, slow-burning, slice of life

word count: 6.8k

Warnings: some heavily implied shady shit like deaths, drugs, alcohol, murder, violence and generally things that don’t faze a demon.

A side story during the time of Distance and the Heart

Related works: See Masterlist

A/N: Not a straight continuation from where we last left off but some exposition stuff and delving into the mind of our dear guardian demon Jimin :) Also a little bit of a rushed edit so....anything funky going on please forgive me ^^;;

Small.

So small.

And so very fragile — human lives that is.

It’s made even more obvious when you happen to be a demon, standing atop the tallest building you can find, looking down from it. How easily the change of perspective can turn even the most powerful man to look like nothing more than a scurrying ant, marching in a colony – a worker, a drone.

Humans, he thinks, become so easily obsessed with such meaningless things like money or power to stand above the rest that in the grand scheme of things, they’re just like everyone else.

Pathetic.

It all means nothing in the end anyways, especially when you’re standing at the gates (figuratively speaking). Now which one, well, it’s up to them.

Still, it’s fun to mess with them.... Correction was fun.

Jimin grunts to himself at the thought as he begins pacing precariously along the building’s ledge, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket.

But he hasn’t always been like this, so disinterested in his nature as a demon spawned from the depths of hell — his inclination to lure poor, hapless souls to the dark side.

He’d taken great pleasure doing those things; nothing more satisfying than seeing his handy work play out like an oncoming train wreck. In his lifetime, he’s seen them all: from the simple cheating spouse to cold-blooded murder itself. It’s what demons do best; whisper sweet temptations of the deepest, darkest desire to tip the scale in their favour and once their victim has fallen from grace, catch them with open arms.

That’s the name of the game — corruption of the human soul, exploiting their weak nature. It’s simple and cute.

Jimin stops his pacing, reaching the end of the ledge to glare at nothing in particular as he thinks ruefully;

But so easy.

He flicks one single finger and it all comes crashing down like a house of cards with them willingly in it. It even came to the point where he doesn’t even have to do anything to gain a corrupt soul; all he had to do was look around the corner. It’s like humans send themselves to hell for him. And so, he set off to find himself a new game to play, one that would at least give him a run for his money.

If anyone who knew Jimin, they would say he was too ambitious for his own good and he would say that they’re right because admittedly, it’s what landed him in his current situation in the first place. In his quest to finding a new challenge, he had asked himself; what’s harder to tempt than puny, pathetic humans? Evidently anything.

Impassively, Jimin takes a step off of the building and gravity immediately takes hold as he begins to make his sharp descent. Air rushes past him, whipping his hair and stinging his eyes but still, he remains stoic in the face of what would be a gruesome death to most. The corner of his lips twitch, feeling the adrenaline kick in as the ground draws nearer and just as he’s about to collide with it, his body halts, feet hovering just inches above the concrete and with the grace of a dancer, he floats the rest of the way down without a single scuff on his Louis Vuitton loafers.

He runs a hand through his locks, ruffling the silken strands until he felt that they were somewhat tamed and with a final fixes to his jacket, Jimin saunters off down the busy street, not a single soul aware of what happened.

Humans — so blissfully ignorant, Jimin sometimes finds himself envious of them as he moves through various crowds of people scurrying by. Even though he was under the cloaking spell, invisible to mortal eyes he still thinks they wouldn’t spare him a second glance, too busy rushing off to places or glued to their phones. It all further reminded him of his predicament; they’re such easy picking that eventually it didn’t take him long to find the perfect way to up the ante in his little game.

Angels.

More specifically: guardian angels.

A shiver runs through him from the memory and he can’t quite hide the grin that has taken over plush lips. Ah, it seems like eons ago that he had conjured up that idea. Curiosity isn’t a sin but one definitely has to exercise caution with it but Jimin would always rather throw it to the wind because who didn’t want to know if a demon can tempt an angel into sin.

Granted, it was only a low class angel but you gotta start small right?

And it was far easier finding one than you think.

Because you see, all humans — as incompetent as they can be — are all assigned to a guardian angel, meant to do what demons also do except the complete opposite: influence good actions and reward with good karma. Contrary to popular beliefs, demons and angels are all fairly equal in power because both have similar hierarchy. A lowly demon can be on par with a starting guardian angel and through time, both can climb the ladder through gaining respective karmic energy through the deeds of the person they influence.

So it wasn’t that hard for Jimin to find a potential target — fresh-faced, hard working, green, and naive. He almost felt sorry when he was planting seeds of doubt into that pretty head of theirs. Didn’t help that he was assigned to a deplorable excuse for a human being to look after that perhaps that’s why by the end of it all, Jimin found he had grown a soft spot for his newly acquired fallen angel of a friend.

For such a long, arduous process, it didn’t take long for everyone to find out; both upstairs and downstairs and boy did Jimin get an earful from his boss (in fact nearly got his ass singed off which would’ve been a huge loss for the world). Even though admittedly the stunt he pulled was ballsy and impressive (his boss’ words, not his), Jimin still needed to receive ‘divine punishment’ lest his boss wanted to deal with a bunch of literal holier-than-thou angels rioting at the gates of hell. So to get him out of his hair (to deal with an onslaught of paperwork) and for Jimin to avoid certain death via smiting, he was given his ultimatum — his quote on quote ‘community service hours’. And the rest was history.

Now fast forward to his first check-in.

It was nothing special nor worth noting as he had relayed to you before leaving; just a business-like meeting with his boss where he gets told if he’s doing a good job or not and any other updates regarding his case in overstepping the line. It wouldn’t even take him a full day — a simple in-and-out.

Only it wasn’t so because 1) his meeting gets crashed by an uninvited guest (a colleague thankfully, but there goes his discrepancies) and 2) Jimin is informed that he was not meeting his daily quota.

The memory has Jimin kissing his teeth in annoyance before he can stop himself, steps becoming a little heavier as he powers on down the street. He couldn’t believe it the first time he heard it. Him slacking? There’s no way in hell.

But the numbers check out (his dear colleague made sure it was very clear to him i.e. shoving the report into his face and cackling loudly), even if he did miss it by a margin. And as if to add further insult to injury, it goes further on to say that heaven however, is satisfied with his work as temp guardian (sloppy but satisfactorily enough, at least she hasn’t died yet, it had read).

It baffled him to no end; how is it that he’s managed to shirk his duties, as a demon but be somewhat good at being a guardian angel-albeit-demon?

“You’re losing your touch, brother.” His underling colleague teased. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown soft ever since you’ve became a guardian to that human.”

Jimin responded by setting fire to his pant leg.

Lost his touch? Soft? As if.

With nothing more to say, Jimin had stormed out of the room and crossed right back over to the mortal planes, jaw clenched and temper burning. The crisp cool air that had greeted him helped somewhat to tame it, but he could still feel the steam practically rising from his skin. He needed to vent and being back so early, he figured he had enough time to spare without jeopardizing your safety with his absence.

So for the past few days he’d been going around observing the daily life of a human on earth like he had always done in the past, scoping out fresh meat to meddle his way into. He’d got the occasional shop lifter, scammer, one of those obnoxious teens who think they’re suddenly Nascar drivers the moment they are privileged with their own car…

Jimin tsks like a disappointed mother, recalling that moment well; it was an illegal street race at 3AM (of course), a bunch of rambunctious teenagers who are so desperate to one-up their buddies at a game they didn’t realize they couldn’t win in no matter how many modifications they’ve made to their car.

All it took was a drift turn gone wrong.

Once again, how anti-climatic.

Jimin heaves a breath, twisting his neck this way and that to release a satisfying crack as he watches the street lamps above him flicker to life; the sun had long set thanks to the short days of the winter season. Boredom was such a bitch to get out of once you’ve fallen into its dark abyss. It seems like there’s no cure for it. Which is a wonder why Jimin finds himself standing right across the street to the entrance of probably one of the places a demon like himself can get a bang for his buck.

A nightclub.

He can practically smell the alcohol and indecency from here. It’s a cesspool.

His lips twitch at the sight, eyeing the burly man acting as a bouncer and the steady line of people waiting to get in. Jimin feels the bass of the music rather than hears it leaking through the closed door and the neon lights cast everything within its reach in a vibrant aqua green and pink shade. He feels like he’s outgrown places like these (an easy hunting ground) but tonight, he has no other plans.

With a shrug, Jimin drops his cloaking spell and takes long, confident strides towards the front of the line. As soon as he gets within peripheral vision of the crowd, all heads turn and he feels the heat of their gazes on him. He bites his lips subtly to keep himself from smirking; never gets old.

He approaches the bouncer head-on, maintaining steady eye contact and though it seems like the much larger, muscular man is unfazed by Jimin’s magic, he steps aside without a single word, allowing the demon in disguise to pass through the door and into the club. No protest was made from anyone.

The music is even louder once Jimin passes through the threshold, down the illuminated cool tone hallway with its frosted glass walls before he finally reaches the heart of the club. The dance floor is filled with gyrating bodies moving to the beat of the song, strobe lights flickering sporadically in multiple colours being the only strong source of light to this dimly lit building. The DJ is situated on a slightly raised platform at the head of the dance floor, bobbing his head as he works the turn table and just slightly off to his side is one of many staircases leading up to the second floor, most likely holding VIP areas.

Not much has changed from this scene, Jimin muses to himself as his eyes survey his surroundings. As he makes his way down the border aisle of the dance floor, he feels numerous sets of eyes following him, all vying for his attention. It makes him double check on himself to make sure he isn’t still using his enthralling magic (he’s not). Jimin pays them no mind, bypassing the bar, the fumes of smoke giving off dizzying, euphoric effects that had he not been a demonic entity would surely effected him with a single breath, before he makes it to one of the stairs leading upwards.

He ascends them quickly until he’s on the second floor which was littered with various occupied booths, another fancier looking bar situated off to one side, standing side tables that overlooked the level below and a sectioned off area with velvet ropes and another bouncer. Perhaps to most, this would be the more intimidating places in a club because right off the bat, Jimin can see the shift in its patrons; he sees the sleek way they dress, the way they hold themselves with a higher air as they sip from crystal glasses with dark liquid in it, the impressive bottle sitting not too far from their reach on the table and the subtle glint their jewels give off when the light catches.

Most people would turn tail and run, feeling out of their league in this place.

But not Jimin; not when he has a face like this and an aura that can easily dwarf these…. lesser beings.

So he proceeds on forward unbothered, hand tousling his hair out of the way as he slides into the nearest stool by the bar. The bartender is immediately at his side, asking what he would like to order.

“A glass of whiskey.” His eyes wander for a moment at the selection and his bartender waits patiently, almost with baited breath. Jimin’s eyes land on one of the tall, darken bottles before he answers with an easy smile. “Make it a Macallan please.”

The bartender flounders for a split second, blinking from Jimin to the expensive bottle of whiskey before nodding and rushing off to prepare the drink. In the meantime, Jimin takes to turning around in his seat, leaning back casually against the glass bar counter, legs crossed to do what he does best; people-watch.

Or more like play a twisted game of ‘I Spy’ with himself. It’s even more fun when he knows that everyone here thinks they can get away with things just because the lighting is a little dim.

Like he spies with his little eyes, a pill being popped a little too eagerly.

He sees things getting passed around, things being slipped with the sleight of hands and people getting frisky under the table. Nothing much escapes Jimin’s sharp eyes.

Not even the girl who slyly slips into the seat next to him, her own eyes trained onto his profile like a hawk.

“I see you’re a whiskey kind of guy.” The booming music gives her an excuse to lean in closer to Jimin but what she doesn’t know is that he can hear her perfectly fine without her having to. It makes his lips twitch as he smoothly reaches beside him for said drink and takes a slow sip, letting the smoky taste of the alcohol coat his tongue before feeling the burn of it travel down his throat. Demons don’t actually feel the effects of alcohol but they can still taste the flavour the drinks have to offer, which is why Jimin likes to indulge in a few drinks here and there.

He keeps a hold of his glass, swirling the dark liquid before he languidly lets his gaze slide to his surprise companion, head tilting to allow strands of hair to fall into his darkened gaze in the slightest way to show that she’s caught his attention.

“And what kind of drink are you?” Jimin indulges, shifting a little forward to let the timbre of his voice project more. The girl gets flustered now that he has eyes on her but with a valiant effort, she plays it cool, flicking her dark hair off to one side flirtatiously.

“How about you buy me one and find out?”

The reply causes Jimin to throw his head back with a laugh; the sight obviously pleases her as red lips spread into a wide smile. He nods to himself and turns to the bartender, waving him down easily for the girl beside him to order her drink (a mojito). Jimin’s reaction gives her a boost of confidence, making her shift closer until she’s practically pressing into his side.

“I’m Jenny by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, first time?”

Jimin lets out a chuckle, bringing the glass up again to take another sip. “You could say that.” He pauses, letting the rim of the glass brush his bottom lip as he thinks for a moment before answering, “Julien.”

Jenny’s drink arrives and she takes it into her hand, holding it out to him to clink against. “Cheers to that then.”

He grins before obliging, tapping his glass to hers and it’s as if she’s unknowingly sealed the deal with the devil himself. A good portion of the night was spent getting to know one another (Jimin uses that term loosely), ordering more drinks and her getting braver each time. Though Jimin was not particularly engaged with the conversations they were having, he’s amused from the not-so-subtle ways she’s been trying to get him to leave the club with her to engage in…. other activities.

Even more so when there were times he’s caught her peeking at her phone, seeing the way it lights up constantly until with a huff of annoyance, she puts it on silent mode, tosses it into her clutch and never bothers with it again. He pretends not to notice, keeping up with the charade and wrapping her around his fingers further.

“Is it weird for me to say that it feels like I’ve known you my entire life?” Jenny giggles drunkenly, batting her eyelashes coyly from over the rim of her glass.

“Oh?” Jimin responds playfully, swiveling his body to face her while propping an elbow up on the counter to support his chin, eyes glued to her as if he’s completely enamoured. “How so?”

She puts her empty glass down and shuffles forward until she’s at the edge of her seat, leaning over slightly to accentuate the cleavage her dress’s deep neckline has to offer. The pretty brunette mimics Jimin’s gesture, eyes taking on a sheen from the alcohol consumption but no doubt still determined to get into his pants.

“I don’t know…. It’s like,” She pauses, voice coming out breathy as her free hand begins to trail tantalizing up one of his knees to his upper thigh. Jimin pays it no mind, gaze steady on her face and it pushes her to continue. “I feel like we have really good chemistry together.”

Jimin makes it seem like he’s intrigued by the idea, index finger rubbing against his bottom lip but finds that he has to hold himself from cracking a smile because of the way Jenny’s eyes flicker down to them, watching and unconsciously biting down on her own.

“And do you have any proof to back up such a bold claim?”

Jimin deliberately sets her up and she takes it – hook, line and sinker. He thinks he’s dragged this out long enough because frankly, he’s getting bored. The clueless girl can’t contain her smile, taking the invitation by leaning all the way until her lips just about brushes Jimin’s as she whispers, “Let me show you.”

She closes the rest of the distance, almost crashing unceremoniously against Jimin and he grunts at the sudden added weight, one hand flying to her waist to steady her while the other cups the underside of her jaw. She moves fervently against his lips, hand carding through his hair while the other one remains firmly pressed against his thigh. Her enthusiasm nearly bulldozes Jimin, but he’s no pushover, especially to some drunk, human girl. So he easily takes charge, retaliating with a harsh nip to her lower lip when she had so eagerly tried to invade her tongue into his mouth and it elicits a whine. He grips her waist more firmly, moving to wedge his leg between hers and immediately, he feels her body submit to him.

Jimin peers at her through half-closed lids, watching her melt under his touch so easily as the hand on her jaw snakes lower until it situates closer to her throat. He feels the desperation coming from her, sees the way her thighs part for him to get closer, causing the short skirt of her dress to ride up further. But he won’t give her that satisfaction, even as his tongue pries open her mouth and she lets out a whimpering moan.

No, he won’t give her that satisfaction because this is all just a game to him.

He pulls away the same time his hand on her waist comes to stop hers from inching any closer to the area between his legs, the whiffs of her sweet perfume had long become too suffocating for his senses. The girl is obviously displeased, brows scrunching up as she attempts to chase his lips. Jimin leans back slightly but doesn’t evade her when she presses her lips to his again, only this time he’s unresponsive. He waits and watches her come to realize his lack of response before he allows his gaze to drift off to the side where he spies the male figure who stands frozen at the head of the stairs, looking disheveled and with a phone clenched so hard in one hand that even Jimin can see the knuckles turn white from where he is.

He feels, rather than sees Jenny’s lips leave his slowly and after a beat, Jimin dares to tilt his head to gauge her reaction. It nearly makes him burst out laughing.

The girl looks absolutely horrified as all her attention is no longer on Jimin but on the man a few feet from her. The demon continues watching delightedly, like a drama unfolding before his very eyes as Jenny puts distance between herself and him as she staggers to stand from her seat, mouth agape. Jimin can’t help but to take the chance to add more fuel to this rapidly growing fire.

“Someone…you know?” He asks tentatively as best as he can, despite knowing exactly who this is.

He sees the girl’s breath hitch before she utters out a single name, “Tony…”

Like Jimin had said, nothing goes unnoticed by him. Not when the mirror panels by the bar perfectly reflected the name that had flashed on her phone multiple times before she had decided to put it away.

Tony is the first to snap out of his stupor, face darkening as he stomps over to his girlfriend. Without even sparing a single glance at Jimin, the man snatches her wrist and proceeds to forcefully drag her away. Jenny stumbles after his longer strides, crying out and slapping at his back as he takes her down the stairs and Jimin watches on impassively until the couple disappear out of sight. With the show being over, he turns back around, running a hand through his hair to fix the mess the girl had made. He also catches sight of his reflection and kisses his teeth at what he finds.

Reaching for a napkin, Jimin wipes away the lipstick residue coating his mouth. He manages to get most of it off, leaving his lips tinged in the slightest shade of pink. He scoffs, annoyed before taking his glass and knocking back the rest of his drink. Jimin calls for the bill, swiftly tapping his black card on the machine without even glancing at the grand total and gets up to leave. He makes it halfway down the stairs before he decides to cloak himself for a swifter exit. With just a few steps, he’s teleported out of the club and into the chill night air.

Only this time, there’s a commotion and he easily spots the cause. Jenny and her boyfriend were a few steps down the street from where the club was and were currently screaming their heads off at each other. There were a couple of onlookers but everyone seems very keen on not getting involved with this particular couple’s spat. Tony is visibly distressed, a hand aggressively running through his hair as he paces like an angry lion. Jenny is on the defensive, refusing to budge and making great effort in spite of her occasional wobbles. Jimin has to stifle a laugh, feeling very tempted to stay just to see how this will all end. Eventually, Tony has stopped pacing for a moment to point an accusatory finger at Jenny, cursing at her for cheating on him. She in turn yells back about the argument that lead up to that point.

Enraged, Tony closes the gap between them to tower over Jenny who, even though has stood her grounds for the most part with liquid courage on her side, is rightfully intimidated by the aggression the male holds. There’s a tense moment of silence, the two glaring daggers at each other and Jimin watches on until he can’t bear the lack of action any longer.

“What will you do?” He whispers but the weight of his words carry thanks to the magic underlying it, his eyes taking on an ominous glow. “She doesn’t deserve to be forgiven.”

He watches as his dark tempting take influence, sees the way the male’s vision cloud over in blinded fury before he makes to grab the girl’s wrist and drags her off, screaming and cursing all the way. Jimin takes that as his cue to leave, his job done and proceeds to carry on as if nothing has happened. But now he’s back to being bored, dispassionately roaming the streets like he always had. It was fun while it lasted.

In his musings, he doesn’t realize that his feet have taken him down a familiar path. The small restaurants and cafes becoming recognizable and the hustle and bustle part of the main city gradually fades, giving way to quieter streets that lead to small neighbourhoods.

Ah, he realizes, this is the way to your house.

His thoughts naturally change to that of you, remembering how it had actually been a good week or so since he’d last seen you but judging from the lack of disturbances he feels in your aura, he surmises that you’re doing fine (i.e. not dead or mortally injured). Still, he can’t help the chuckle that escapes under his breath when he slows his pace to let the fact that he had unconsciously been lead back to you, be it by his own will or the nature of the contract sink in.

Perhaps it was a sign for him to finally go check on you. He hates to admit it, but the bantering you both share are way more entertaining than some of the stuff he’s done for the past few days. It’s always fun because your reactions are like a kaleidoscope of emotions, all morphing from one to another in the span of a minute at the things he does or says. You’re a human who lives diligently like many others, fighting against this harsh and dreary world but managing to find solace in what he thinks is a rather interesting choice of subject:

An idol K-Pop boy band by the name of BTS.

Just what does BTS mean to you? He only knows that the face in which he mimics is one that you seek comfort from the most. But where does this fierce adoration and unconditional love come from? He gets the feeling that it’s more than a pretty face and good music (and it seems the same goes for all the members of this group); it doesn’t quite fit with what he has seen with the humans who do the same. It tickles his curiosity to figure out more than what he had gleaned when he first took up this guardian position. He hums at the idea, finding it fascinating.

A shout sharply cuts him from his thoughts and he immediately feels a spike in your aura from within his chest. His gaze whips to the source and sees that just ahead of him is a figure, tall in stature and clearly male, an arm outstretched over his head with what appears to be a mobile phone held in his hand. He teeters his weight from his right leg to his left in an effort to keep away a much smaller figure that peeks around his gangly frame.

Jimin doesn’t need to get a clear view of who it might be because the distress and annoyance creates an unmistakable tug that leaves no room for questioning. Your shrieking only affirms this.

Funny, he thinks as he finds himself making quick strides to close the distance between him and this nuisance of a man, that this scene is playing out in a similar fashion he had just witnessed not even ten minutes ago but it manages to evoke a much stronger reaction from him; pulse rushing, head reeling, and jaw clenching.

Maybe it was because of the contract, or maybe because of who was involved. He doesn’t have time to figure it out — what any of it means.

All he knows is that he’s irritated.

He’s finally within reach, just in time to cut off the unsavoury sentence pouring out of the guy’s mouth by catching the hand that held the phone hostage in a literal bone-crushing grip.

“I do believe the young lady said no.”

Quite frankly, the rest of what happened was a blur to Jimin. After trying to be ‘Mr. Nice Demon’ by ignoring the piece of trash behind him, he quickly realized he wasn’t cut out for it. Especially when said piece of trash actually tried to land a hit on him (and doing so even after getting a few of his fingers crushed? Jimin doesn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed).

He would’ve actually dumped the guy into a literal trash can in the alleyway had it not been for you insisting that he doesn’t but still ended up knocking him out anyways and breaking his nose. Not something Jimin was satisfied with but beggars can’t be choosers he suppose (at least it got him to finally shut up).

When the situation calmed down and he was able to get a good look at you, Jimin couldn’t help but soften at the slightly disheveled way you had looked. Cheeks flushed, pouting lips and eyes that are a little watery set into a glare his way even though to him, you looked more like an angry kitten than a tiger as you berate him for being gone for so long.

He inwardly sighs to himself, what is he going to do with you?

Clearly you had a rough night, that much Jimin can tell. So with the mind to placate your fuming self, he lets you slap his $5,000 jacket (even lets you wear it in the end) and prepares to send you off home (you really need to sleep). Of course things don’t go as planned (or they did, depending on who you ask) because your friend and roommate just so happens to show up at that exact moment. It gave Jimin another entertaining show to experience before the end of the night (probably not something you appreciate but this ain’t about you).

Either way, with your roommate there, it gave Jimin a great excuse to take care of this unfortunate soul and though you had warned him not to do any killing, it didn’t mean he was barred from doing everything else; the possibility was still endless.

So here he was, on top of a building that’s currently under construction with an unconscious man dangling upside from one of the tower cranes.

Life’s good.

Jimin hovers face-to-face with the man, sipping on the water bottle he’d snatched along the way (it’s thirsty work, even for a demon). The guy still got blood smeared down his lips and chin from his broken nose, which was starting to bruise and swell. But that’s not the problem here — the problem here is that he’s still unconscious.

The demon fixes that by splashing the rest of his drink onto his face. The cold does the trick to shock his victim awake with a choked splutter.

“And here I thought I could just leave you for the crows to pick at.” Jimin sighs.

“WH-What the fuck?!” The man garbles, voice nasally as he tries to blink away the remaining water droplets falling from his face. His hands instinctively try to reach up to wipe it but finds that he can’t because on top of tying his feet to dangle 20 feet in the air, Jimin has also bound his hands because why not. The realization sends him into a rising panic and the man begins to struggle while a steady stream of profanity leaves his mouth. Jimin’s grin only grows wider as he watches it morph into a full-blown freak out when the man finally realizes he’s been put in a rather precarious situation. The amusement is short-lived however when the demon can’t stand his incessant screaming.

“Silence, human.” He growls, resorting to chucking the bottle right at the man. It immediately catches his attention, wild eyes darting back to Jimin who only narrows his in return.

“Who’re—You’re…You’re that fucker!”

“Oh I wouldn’t be talking to your only saviour like that if I were you.” Jimin tsk, hands casually shoved into his pocket as he glares down at the offender. “Your life’s hanging by a thread — quite literally.” He projects himself upwards until his feet touches the metal of the crane, loafers tapping lightly as he makes his way to stand directly above the man’s prone figure. Jimin chuckles lowly to himself once he catches sight of the expression he has on; clearly the whole situation he’s in is too absurd for his small brain to process at the moment.

Jimin sees his lips moving quickly, making out words like ‘this isn’t real’, ‘what the fuck’, and ‘I must be dreaming.’ He takes the chance to generously settle those assumptions for him.

“If it helps, I’ll be happy to drop you to see if it’s true or not.” Jimin bounces on the balls of his heels, the disturbance causes the crane to creak, which makes the man sway. He lets out a terrified shout and Jimin pauses to let the momentum carry on by itself. Crouching down, the demon watches with a bored expression as the dangling male screws his eyes shut, whimpering more words to convince himself that he’s not actually 20 feet from dropping to his death and that some good-looking psycho is the cause of it all.

Jimin takes out his phone after a while, checking the time to find that it’s late and his patience is growing thin. With a huff, he straightens himself up and taps his foot against the metal to get the blubbering male’s attention.

“Listen, I don’t have all night to listen to you piss yourself so I’m just going to cut you loose and we can both be done with it yeah?”

“H-Hey no! Wait! What the fuck’s your problem?!” The man yells, voice pitching as he tries his best to look at his tormentor. “Is it because I messed with your girl?! Look, I didn’t even know she was alright?!”

Jimin tilts his head; amused by the conclusion he’s been given. The demon hums but other than that, gives no further response. Not like a lowly scum deserves an answer anyways.

“It doesn’t matter, and quite frankly, it’s none of your business too. Just know that you’re scum and deserve to perish. So….” Kneeling down, Jimin’s hand grasps at the rope keeping said scum from experiencing the bungee jump of his life. “See you in hell, Mike.”

The rope snaps from the flash of intense heat coming from the demon’s palm and before he has the chance to utter another word, Mike is plummeting towards the ground, his screams fading fast. No sooner afterwards, Jimin teleports himself to the safety of the ground below, squinting upwards to catch the speck that is Mike still making his steep descent.

Closer…. Closer….

Now he hears his screaming gradually becoming louder and for a split second, Jimin’s anticipation gets the better of him, giddy to see the result of a human body falling from such a height. That is, until your warning tone echoes from the back of his mind, the nagging begrudgingly makes him scowl with a roll of his eyes before he outstretches a hand above his head and just mere inches from cracking his head open on the gravel ground, Mike’s body comes to a complete stop though he continues wailing.

Jimin’s scowl deepens as he glares down at the man. He runs an agitated hand through his blue-tinted locks but evidently couldn’t restrain himself from kicking him right in the face…again. It puts a swift end to his endless banshee scream. A heavy sigh escapes his parted lips as he unsympathetically releases the hold he has on Mike’s body, letting him topple over ungraciously with a loud thud.

“You’re so lucky; I would’ve dumped your body into the nearest river and call it a night.” Jimin mutters angrily, peering down at Mike’s unconscious form disdainfully with hands on either side of his hips. He stares at his stupid face, nose bent in an unnatural way for a few moments longer and with another frustrated inhale through his nose, Jimin impulsively gives one last kick to the man in his gut. They say you shouldn’t kick a man while he’s down but Jimin’s last fuck had long been given away already. Plus, it did him some good; it took the remainder of his steam because he finally straightens himself out, rolls his shoulders to release any tension left before he stoops down to rifle through the man’s pockets.

He pulls out his wallet, deft hands quickly sifting through various cards until it lands on a university student ID, the institution’s name printed on the plastic with bold letters. Giving the worn leather wallet a shake, a key tumbles out into Jimin’s awaiting hand (along with a bunch of loose change but Mike doesn’t need them). Engraved on the head are a number and letter, no doubt pertaining to the dorm he’s living in. That’s all Jimin needs as he conjures up a portal leading to the location, removes the bindings from Mike’s wrist and feet and all but rolls him through to the floor of his bedroom with the soles of his shoes.

Jimin tosses the wallet carelessly through too and closes the portal, hands brushing against each other like he had taken out a hefty pile of trash (in a way he did). Feeling a little lighter in mood, Jimin turns to regard his surroundings, stretches and take in the still cool night air. Guess he should probably head on back to your place to check up on you now; it wouldn’t do him any good if he had kept you up worrying over some insignificant scum like Mike.

So with quick steps, Jimin vanishes in wisps of dark smoke, only to re-materialize in your bedroom. He was honestly half-expecting to be scolded by you the moment he made his appearance but find a much different sight altogether (though still unsurprising). You’re slouched against the wall at the head of your bed, head lopping off to one side in a way that looked too uncomfortable to remain in with the sheets only halfway pulled up over your body. Jimin can’t help the air that escapes through his nose in a quiet giggle, hands suddenly itching to snap a picture of you. He gives in to the temptation, pulling out his mobile with ease.

After taking a sufficient amount of photos (with various amounts of filters to each), Jimin moves soundlessly towards the edge of the bed to loop an arm around your shoulders, careful to cradle your head against his chest before you used his other free hand to momentarily discard the blanket to make room to scoot you down to the pillows. Once he’s laid you down properly, he fixes the covers again, tucking them under your chin and snuggling the plush cat toy you’re so fond of closer to your side.

You let out an indecipherable murmur, head shifting to sink further into your bed before letting out a deep exhale, a small smile playing on your lips. Jimin shakes his head though his own smile threatens to overtake his lips. He turns around, satisfied and settles into your desk chair, allowing his eyes to slip shut and the rhythmic sounds of your breathing to lull him into a sense of ease he hasn’t felt in a long time.

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1358456 · 5 years ago

Note

What are your current thoughts on the Ruby/Sapphire and Sun/Moon pairings

Oh boy.

For Ruby & Sapphire…

What a mess it was. I never liked the pairing much. Why? Because it was nearly unusable. For one, the official confession in RS arc made things kind of boring. The steps/builds leading to the confession were essentially skipped, which are the most interesting parts to work on. Then the massive f*ck up in Emerald happened where Ruby “forgot” and Sapphire’s pissed about it. Which means every f*cking chapter I write regarding these two will have to include, in one way or another, Sapphire bringing up that damn issue. And sure enough, if you look at the old Ruby & Sapphire stuff I’ve written, most of them have Sapphire bringing up that damn issue. Over and over. And that is repetitive, frustrating, and boring. And now the biggest problem. That issue persisted for YEARS, until ORAS, where it apparently never happened since Ruby and Sapphire never mention it at all, making the whole thing pointless, just like the arc itself. So by the time there were any developments, it was too late for me.

What did ORAS accomplish for this pairing? Well, that bullsh*t in Emerald was wiped from existence and they were able to actually progress in a relationship. Good for them. It’s cute and all, but… that’s also the next thing that would’ve been interesting to write about, that already exists so there’s no point in trying to write it. Of course, I could try to write the next date and stuff for them, but then… that’s where the more specific issue comes in. And that would be… the character.

Well, from what I can see, Sapphire’s whole existence basically revolves around Ruby. She has her own preferences and thoughts, sure, but when Ruby says one thing, all of those get overridden. She supposedly doesn’t like girly things and overly flashy stuff too much. Ruby says one thing and she wears the girly-ass ORAS Contest outfit and participates in a Contest with him. In a pairing setting, that’s incredibly boring.

So a chapter in which Ruby and Sapphire are having fun together in a cute and fluffy setting has been done in ORAS so… nothing new. Them having a serious disagreement and a fallout has… also been done in RS and ORAS, so… nothing new. Them having a not-so-serious disagreement doesn’t happen since Sapphire just relents and goes with Ruby, so the end result is fluff, which… is done in ORAS as mentioned. So one way or another, it’s kind of boring for me.

It’s definitely possible to overcome these issues and write Ruby & Sapphire chapters that are well received. I’ve done few of those (Tumblr shorts). But they take so much effort for me and I just don’t find any amusement out of it. I don’t find amusement from the pairing or the characters. Is there another reason why Ruby and Sapphire still haven’t been mentioned in Legacy, or why they don’t have any roles in that story whatsoever?

Now, there are other writers out there who absolutely love this pairing and only write about them. That’s great. I’m not one of them. Don’t look at me for good Ruby & Sapphire stories. Find Cap and see her stuff since she goes all in on that pairing.

—————————————————————————————————-

Next, Sun & Moon…

… Looking from Moon’s side… okay, she behaves differently around him and has quite a few tendencies that can be used for the pairing. Such as… her irrational reactions to what he says, her always healing him for free, and the tease from everyone else, which is cute and amusing and all. The problem is Sun.

My interpretation of Sun is that he’s one of those types who goes all in on one objective, and doesn’t give a f*ck about anything else. Like, if he wants to go see a movie at a theater, he’s going to go see a movie at a theater even if all the nearest theaters were bombed to hell so the closest one requires a 7 hour flight, all the movies playing are absolute dog sh*t, and there’s a heavy ass blizzard outside with -40C temp, iced over roads, and 1m of snow piled up so all the flights are cancelled.

And so the problem is… unless Moon is his objective, he’s not going to do much for her, if he does anything at all. It would’ve been interesting if Sun didn’t have an objective, so he was free to pursue other things. Except… there is no precedent of such a thing because SM/USM hit the undo button on Sun’s only character progression by giving him another money based objective.

When Sun and Moon were sucked into Ultra Space… Sun found out right before that all of the time he spent saving money was for nothing because he was a naive little f*ck who believed Mr. Bean… er… the dude whose eye wear looks like a Poke Pelago bean (unless I’m not remembering his design properly). And so in the Ultra Space, we saw the first glimpse of character development/progression for Sun, when he offered to buy Moon replacement souvenirs. And then it was never brought up and the last chapter hit the undo button by giving him another money objective.

You know what would’ve been great? If at some point, Sun asked Moon if she was going to come back to Alola after returning home. If he asked her in a way that implied that he didn’t want her to go. But nope. F*ck all that, says the arc.

Moon’s doing her best to make this pairing interesting. Why else would she be moving to Alola once everything ended? She has no attachments to anything in that region other than Sun. But Sun is looking the wrong way. It’s like… Moon turns around to give him a heartfelt speech, with her back against the sunset that hides her blush a bit, and Sun is crouching, facing the other way, because there’s a coin lodged in the dirt.

Look at how Sun behaves in the TWO… three… chapters where he does stuff in my stories. One, DE #031: Long Night of Solace. Is he in character? I sure as hell don’t think so. Next, Legacy chapters. Is Sun in character? No. I actually used Black’s personality for his actions there. Because how would Sun react when money is not on the line? Who the f*ck knows since it never happened in the arcs.

So either I say f*ck it to Sun’s characteristics and replace his traits with those of a generic male Dex Holder to make the pairing work, or this pairing becomes a strictly half-sided one where Moon is like “eh… but do I…” and Sun is like “hey, I wonder if there are any spare coins in those shopping carts!”

And look where Sun ranks in my preference lists, and where Moon ranks in comparison. That pairing is not working out too well.

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taronfanfic · 6 years ago

Text

Rewind

Masterlist

Chapter 10

The longer the night went on the more sloppy drunken advances from men kept playing out to one of the four of you. Initially you’d all been polite with it, smiling, laughing, gently turning them down and continuing to dance with each other instead. When they’d become more forceful and persistent you closed things down quicker and pulled in to a tighter circle.

“It’s so nice just being the four of us for once.” Charlotte commented.

“I’m impressed Y/N has been so blinkered too.” Rosie added.

“What are you trying to say?” You joked.

“There’s been an invisible wall up between you and every guy in here. They’ve not even had a look in!”

“Yeah, you’d normally at least have a bit of fun with them, steal a cheeky kiss if you knew his mates were looking.” Gemma agreed.

“The last guy I kissed was Taron…”

“So?”

“I don’t want that to change.” You admitted coyly. “Which is why I’m going to call it a night and head home, before the vultures start to swoop!” You looked back over your shoulder to a group of guys waiting on the edge of the dancefloor. “They’re all yours!”

The girls agreed to leave with you and you said your goodbyes outside the club. You took the short walk home at a quicker pace, trying to counteract the shivers that tingled down your bare legs. The pub Taron was in earlier was long closed, the roads were empty and quiet, lit only by the yellow glow of the streetlamps. You checked your phone to see it was gone 3am, no new notifications were waiting for you. The smell that drifted out of the kebab shop lifted your eyes from the pavement, temping you inside to the warmth of some food you definitely shouldn’t be ordering. The guy ahead of you received his tray of chips over the countertop and the way he held them so protectively only reminded you of Taron.

“Cheesy Chips, please.” You ordered before you changed your mind and pigged out on a full kebab. The saltiness and cheesiness satisfied your mouth but slowed your feet, so after eating a few you managed to save the rest for the comfort that only your bed could offer. Your bare feet buried into the softness of your duvet as you turned on your laptop and started to catch up on a show you’d missed earlier on in the week. There was something so simplistic about your drunken haze, your chips, your own bed and how happy it left you feeling.

You still up? X

Your phone screen lit up as a new text appeared from Taron. Maybe your happiness actually had more to do with him keeping you from a strangers bed tonight.

I am. X

You kept your reply short and sweet, waiting to see what he wanted.

Home?

He was equally as tight with his words.

Yeah…

The wait for his next reply had your heart racing. You were trying to second guess his move. Would it be disappointment that you weren’t still out? Pleased that you hadn’t gone home with someone else? What if he was about to start sexting you instead? You were in no way prepared for a sexy photoshoot when you were slumped in bed eating cheesy chips!

You kept tapping the screen of your phone to keep it lit up, watching and waiting for the … bubble to appear as he found the right words but there was nothing there. It had to be disappointment. He wanted to come and find you but you’d left too soon and now he’d be latching onto the nearest girl to satisfy him for the night. You bundled three chips into your mouth in self-comfort and started to rewind the bit of the show you’d missed through texting when you heard three gentle knocks at your door. It made you raise one eyebrow in confusion before everything clicked into place. It had to be Taron.

“So I was just on my way home but got a bit distracted... Got myself some more of these!” He brought his arm out from behind his back to show you his chips. “They made me think of you, and last weekend…” You smiled to Taron warmly as he leant up against the doorframe to stop his intoxicated swaying. He had the same drunken look in his eye that you found so endearing.

“Funny that.” You held your door back as you stepped away from Taron and silently invited him inside. He followed you through into your bedroom where you reached across to the middle of your bed and collected your own tray with just a few chips left in the bottom. “Our nights seem to have ended in the same way.”

“It was meant to be!” He declared dramatically and made you laugh. You sat on the far side at the top of your bed and closed your laptop. Taron passed his chips over to you to hold whilst he took his jacket off and got comfy and then pouted at you when he turned back to find you eating them.

“Mine got cold.” You replied innocently as you handed them over. “So how was your night?”

“It was good until someone started eating my chips. Yours?”

“Really fun, just me and the girls tonight which made for a nice change… having a bit of a celebration.” You drunken mind couldn’t stop the last words from leaving your mouth.

“Someone’s birthday?”

“No, no…” You started to scramble. “Just, erm, getting back into my flat! Any excuse!” You laughed nervously.

“Well I’m also pleased you did. Although Monday night was oddly quiet… felt a bit weird without you actually.” It was finally Taron’s turn to say too much.

“Yeah?” You prompted him.

“It was just nice to have a night like that with someone. Talk rubbish, have a giggle, no pressure sort of thing.”

“It was. You were right when you said it’s everything a one-night stand isn’t.”

“Right!” Taron nodded as he continued to eat. “It made me have a proper think, y’know… I want more stuff like that – not that I don’t want sex. But both. Both would be good.”

“A relationship?”

“Yeah, maybe… can I get some water?” He asked as he put his chips down.

“Course. Stay there, I’ll go.” You felt Taron’s eyes on you as you walked around the end of your bed and tugged your dress down as it rode up your thighs. You grabbed a glass for yourself too and when you got back he was stretched out, lying down and looking at his phone. You tried to mentally screenshot the moment and not die of excitement that your bedding would end up smelling of him. He smiled up at you as you handed him a glass.

“Thanks. I’m not sure tinder is the best place to go looking for a relationship, what do you think?”

“Not the most organic.”

“I found you on there though!” He grinned mischievously as he turned his phone screen round to show you your own profile. “Had any luck?”

“I’ve not really used it much, been a bit distracted recently.” You lay down next to him but kept your eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling, knowing full well that your drunk face would tell him everything he could possibly want to know already. A risky question lingered on the tip of your tongue. Sober you would have swallowed it down but there was no stopping it tonight. “So are you going to swipe me right or left?”

“You’ll have to find me back to find out, won’t you…” He teased before taking a drink.

“Or… you could just tell me.”

“I could…” He leant over you and placed his glass down on your bedside table, his chest just millimetres away from yours. As he moved back he looked down over you and you couldn’t help but lock onto his eye contact. “Or I could just-” He cut himself off and moved in to kiss you. His lips were soft and gentle, lingering against yours with a slight hesitation until you started to kiss him back. You lifted your arm and caressed over the side of his neck and up into the back of his hair. The kiss transitioned into something deeper, Taron’s tongue the first to brave a move against yours. He was everything you’d remembered from the weekend before. Slow and skilled even after he’d had more than a few drinks. He pulled back and lingered over you for an extra second before kissing you quickly and softly.

“That was nice.” You failed to hide your smile as Taron sat up away from you.

“It was.” He reciprocated. “Everyone sleeps better after a goodnight kiss.”

“Is that what that was?”

“Yeah, like last weekend… I should get going.” He stood up from your bed.

“You don’t have to.” You replied too quickly for your own liking, but Taron just laughed softly.

“Sleep well, Y/N.” He picked his jacket up from your bedroom floor and looked back to you quickly, the polite smile you’d given him too many times finally appearing on his lips instead. With that he was gone and you heard your door gently closing behind him.

Your hands ran through the top of your hair as you wondered what the hell just happened. You cringed as you thought back to asking him what that kiss was all about and how eagerly you offered him your bed for the night. So much for playing it cool. You had him right there, literally on top of you, kissing you, and then less than a minute later he’s out the door. If it was his way of teasing you and playing games then it was fucking working. Especially the teasing. That second taste had left you thirsty for more but all you had were warm bedsheets laced with his scent.

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