Taehyung aka Apollo, the one
who is everywhere and always has something interesting to talk about, gesturing wildly about this new medicine or song or poem, encourages people to be creative right along him either in Hoseok’s tavern or Namjoon’s café, and never fails to catch the sunset while listening to his muses. Enjoys the process of creating, sunbathing and inspiring artists. (He absolutely did not blind people for fun with his smile, that’s immature and totally his twin’s style.)
Finally, this fic from hell is finished! I wanted to do something a little lighter since the only two pieces I’ve written so far have been pretty angsty. I want to thank @noctigar for helping me through this crazy time and giving me a little piece to work with. Without further adieu, I give you Dance Lessons
try again,” Luna insisted. She released Noctis’ hand and stepped away to
restart the music. Her heels clicked against the polished ballroom floor. Each
click echoed against the walls. She restarted the music and quickly returned to
her position as the intro filled the air.
Claire picked up the call ‘Hello my gorgeous man! are you coming home to me?’. He laughed and said he was on his way. They chatted for a while, exchanging details of their day and talking about what to have for dinner. After a little while he said, ‘I’m going to be home in about 30 minutes, are you going to be a good girl and go and make me some dinner?’ She felt the pleasure of pride, contentment and submissiveness roll through her body at her trigger phrase. He had been hypnotising her for a couple of weeks now, and the 'good girl’ trigger was one of her favourites. Still she didn’t want to make him think he had it all his own way so she said 'Oi, don’t be Naughty!’. 'Don’t you like it when I call you a good girl he said and she could almost hear the grin in his voice as she felt the pleasure role through her again, even stronger this time and with an after-glow which made her start to feel horny. 'Maaaybe’, she said. 'That sounds like a yes to me. Do you want to play games…?’ 'Nooooo’ she said, obviously meaning yes but aware that there were so many other things to be getting on with. 'Why don’t you go in to a Deep Trance for me’, he said and she felt her awareness leave her as she sank down into the darkness of relaxation. He was talking to her now, and she could hear him but her conscious mind couldn’t quite seem to catch what he was saying. Her subconscious could though, and was agreeing in her voice and she thought she caught herself saying 'Yes Sir’ a few times, but somehow it all seemed to unimportant. '2-1 awake’ she heard as she opened her eyes again, still with phone in hand. “What did you do huh?” she said with as much feigned haughtiness as she could muster? 'Guess we will see wont we?’ he replied. 'You are in so much trouble when you get in’ she said trying to sound angry but not really succeeding. She always protested when he put her in a trance she couldn’t remember, but really the excitement of waiting to see what he had programmed her to do was always a turn on, and she trusted him enough to never be scared. 'See you soon beautiful, and try and have dinner maid for me when I come in ok’ 'Yes Sir,’ she found herself replying and then shivered with the pleasure at having said another of her triggers. This one was purely sexual though and her pussy began to moisten. She felt her thoughts leave her and her mind go blank. The phone clicked to dial tone and she put it down and then turned as if on auto-pilot to go to the kitchen. 'This slut loves to cook’ she heard herself say as she went into the kitchen and began making the dinner. She couldn’t seem to think about anything but her task, and with 'This slut loves to cook’ echoing through her mind she quickly put all the ingredients together and opened the oven to put it in to bake. As soon as the oven door closed, she felt a new mantra spring to mind and heard herself say 'This slut loves to look sexy’ and found herself climbing the stairs with nothing but that phrase repeating itself in her mind. She usually took an age to pick out an outfit, no matter what the occasion, but in this instance there was no decision to be made, no thinking to be done. she quickly found the little French maids outfit he had bought her and stripped to her underwear. Putting the outfit on she felt a surge of pleasure sweep through her body, so strong she almost had to sit down. 'This slut loves to look sexy’ she said again selecting the ridiculous patent heels that had only really ever been useful for games like this. Part of her winced as she started putting them on. She didn’t think anything, couldn’t think anything, but they were not the most comfortable shoes and her experience in wearing them had caused her to have a physical reaction. Not this time though. As she slid them on her feet, they felt more comfortable then anything she had put on her feet before and the pleasure emanated up her calves and made her pussy throb even harder. Turning to check herself in the mirror, she felt her mantra change again. 'This slut loves to be of service’, she said to her mirror image. Turning on her heels she made her way down the stairs and stood next to the door. She felt herself slid one hand under her thong whilst the other caressed her nipple. 'This slut must not cum without permission’ she said, stroking herself to the very edge of orgasm and then stopping, before starting again once the feeling had subsided. She stood there, locked in this cycle for some time. She didn’t have the awareness of time to know how long. She just repeated her mantra over and over and waited for him to come home. Sometime later the door opened and in he walked. She felt her hands drop to her sides and her eyes lower to the floor. 'Good evening Sir,’ she said 'may I take your coat? This slut loves to be of service’. 'You may’, he said. She leaned forward and unwrapped him from his coat, making sure she brushed her breasts across his chest and back, and feeling his erection through his trousers. 'If you would like to sit down, I will serve you Sir’ she said. He took a seat at the table she had laid for one, as slinked into the kitchen and served up 1 plate of food, putting the rest in the oven to keep warm. “Are you not eating slut?’ he said. 'This slut loves to be of service Sir. When you tire of me I will eat.’ He smiled. 'Very well, whilst I eat this why dont you keep yourself busy with your conditioning mantra’s?’. 'Yes Sir’ she said, turning to face the table and staring at a blank spot on the wall and finding her hands sliping back to her nipple and pussy as she began to repeat 'this slut loves to be of service, this slut loves to look sexy, this slut loves to suck cock, this slut loves to fuck,’ she began. And as you do that you will find that each repetition sinks more deeply into your mind and becomes more true’ he said. 'Yes Sir, 'this slut loves to be of service, this slut loves to look sexy, this slut loves to suck cock, this slut loves to fuck,’
He took his time eating his dinner, enjoying the view and occasionally reaching out to stoke a nipple or thigh causing his plaything to moan a little, but not break her conditioning repetition of her mantra’s. When he finished he stood and moved to the kitchen, putting his plate in the sink and coming up behind her. 'Stop.’ he said. She stopped her repetition, but continued to stare mindlessly at the wall, waiting for his next command. 'In a moment I will snap my fingers. When I do that, I want you to drop your panties to the floor, open your legs a little, and then bend over the table. Do you understand?’ 'Yes Sir’ she said. He waited for a moment, savouring the control before snapping his fingers loudly. Immediately she moved to remove her underwear, taking a small step forward and then bending at the waist over the table. He wispered in her ear 'I am going to fuck you now. You will cum only when I do, and as I fuck you you will find that you will become less and less of a Plaything and more and more Claire, remembering everything that has happened, although you wont be able to stop yourself from acting like a plaything until I cum. Do you understand?’ 'Yes Sir’ 'Good Girl’ he responded. She felt the shiver of pleasure just as he slide his cock into her. she squealed. She was so horny and was in desperate need of his cock but hadnt been able to ask for it, or even think about asking for it. He rocked back and forth getting nearer to cumming and she began to become more and more aware. As much as she felt she should be angry that he treated her this way, she couldnt help but feel a fresh wave of horniness at the idea of his reducing her to a mindless fucktoy for the evening. When he came he came hard and she didn’t think she had ever felt so much pleasure.
A little while later, having eaten her dinner and showered she joined him on the couch. 'You’re a bit of a pervert really aren’t you?’ she said. 'Well you say that, and I agree, but I’m not the only one.’ he replied grinning. She cocked an eyebrow. He reached over and touched her forehead saying 'Remember’ at the same time. All of a sudden she could remember the conversation they had on the phone when he had her in trance. He had said to her 'describe a fantasy you have locked away in your subconcious which we could reenact tonight’ and her reply had been very similar to their activities that evening, with a couple of wardrobe and practical alterations. 'See,’ he said grinning, 'you like it when I make you a good girl.’ She stuck her tongue out even as she felt the familiar shiver of pleasure from her good girl trigger and then cuddled up to him on the couch. When she thought he couldnt see her face, she let herself have a little smile as she thought about that evening, and what other fantasies may be locked away in her head….
As some of my followers know, I am an undergraduate university student living in Melbourne. I have been in Melbourne for the last 18 months and my family lives in SA. I am socially awkward and I find it hard to make close friends (hence why I practically live in my room and spend far too much time on here). I have failed 9 out of ten subjects I tried to study over the last 18 months at uni. I had to repeat my first year with academic restriction.
About three nights ago, I was unable to sleep, crying, having what I would call ‘invasive thoughts’ and ended up sending a hysterical text message to my mum that read ‘I wanna cone hone’ at 3am. Thankfully, my amazing parents are wonderfully understanding, immediately called me the next day to talk about it and have arranged to drive the twelve hours/two days to come and pick me up to move back home in about a week. They were supportive and never once tried to talk me into staying. Merely asking ‘Is this what you want?’ I haven’t felt this unstressed in over 18 months.
Looking back, while the opportunity to study in Melbourne was good, it wasn’t the best idea for me. I have no real social or support group here in Melbourne and that severely impacted on my life and my self-esteem.
Which is why I am going to tell you something I rarely see.
It’s okay if a year, three years or even hell, three months, into university, you decide you cannot do it. It’s okay.
You are not a failure. You are not a disgrace.
No matter what anyone else says, it’s okay.
In a world where everyone pushes you to go into higher learning, dropping out of university is okay.
In a world where everyone expects you to know what you want to do with your life at 18, it’s okay to change your mind.
In a world where everything happens so quickly, it’s okay to take a step back and rethink a few things.
These things happen. Life changes. Some circumstances are unavoidable.
You are not the only one. You are not alone.
As for me, I’ll be taking the next 6 months off, just working or volunteering in my hometown before looking to return to study if that is what I want. There are some good Uni’s or community colleges in Adelaide, which are not exactly where the family lives but is a hell of a lot closer to home and many of my friends live there. It’ll be a lot healthier for me and most likely much better environment for me to study in.
Sort of cover for my comic based on my fic “On Patrol” to give you guys a hint of what look I decided to go for! I did try “Dont Speak…” at first but I think something lighter will be easier to draw for the time being :) Anyway stay tuned for the first pages on this tumblr!
I had a dream that I was taking my business law test, and thinking to myself, “man, I should’ve gone to class, I can’t believe I missed the teacher talking about the most effective ways to poison/kill a person” because that’s all the test was. 48 questions on how to be an efficient murderer, one question on actual business law, and the bonus question he always includes for one point that was ‘draw a picture of a cat’.
I wrote this in the Deep Dish 9 universe. I have been stuck on writing and @ladyvean suggested I try to write something lighter since I tend to write heavy things. So this is what came of that and I really enjoyed it. @the-capricious-one I hope you like it too!
~Shoddy Customer Service~
Most of the staff of Terok Northside Pizza is out sick,
it’s a busy night, and Damar has to deliver pizzas on his scooter…
and he meets Weyoun who only makes his terrible night even worse.
*Deep Dish Nine AU*
Damar grumbled to himself as he fitted the visor over his slick
black hair. As management, the right hand of Dukat, he didn’t have to
wear the full Terok Northside Pizza uniform but tonight Damar was not
management. A large portion of his staff had called off for the night
and the store was busy. The phone was ringing off the hook with orders,
and the lobby was full too. The problem was that there were no delivery
drivers and that was going to make things very difficult. He wanted to
take Ziyal and Rugal from up front and send one of them out. But the
front was so busy it would be quicker to just go out and deliver the
pizza’s himself. Damar sighed. It was a bad night for half of the store
employees to come down with stomach flu.
Damar loaded pizza boxes
into their insulated carrier to keep them warm and carried them to the
parking lot. His shoulders slumped when his gaze fell upon his scooter.
It was more than embarassing but he’d gotten one too many DUI’s and now
his prized possession, his baby, the only really nice thing he owned,
was sitting in his garage at home collecting more dust than the
envelopes piled on the kitchen table that held his credit card
statements. His house may have been shitty, and falling apart, and he
may have had to grimace when drinking his cheap booze, and the coat he
was wearing was probably decades old—but his car was a dream. The older
model Porsche was out of his league but he felt like a sex god when he
was behind the wheel. He had restored it himself in a labor of love and
the day anyone so much as breathed on it wrong would be the day that he
went away for murder. He had caught Rugal in the parking lot one day
snapping a photo of Ziyal sitting on the shiny red hood and had nearly
murdered her with a pizza slicer. Had her father not been visiting the
store that day things probably would have gone far worse than they had.
Crushing the screen of Rugal’s I-Phone beneath his boot had not been
His baby certainly would have been his friend
this night, though he would have had to have scrounged up a blanket to
lay over the leather seats. Greasy pizza boxes would not dare to touch
that pristine interior.
Damar narrowed his eyes at the scooter.
Having to ride the pathetic little thing instead of sliding into the
drivers seat of his beloved car made him feel as though he’d been
castrated. He adjusted his visor with purpose, and marched forward,
deciding he needed to just get the pizzas to their recipients and get
the dreaded task out of the way. He had brought out some bungee cords
that he’d found in the utility closet and he used them to secure the
pizza to the back of the scooter. Once he was satisfied the boxes
weren’t going to be roadkill once he got going, he straddled the vinyl
Pretend it’s a beautiful Harley with a cherry red gas tank, and a
sexy pinup girl painted on the side of the tank too. Yeah, and her tits
are falling out of a top that doesn’t have enough buttons.
Damar’s dreams were dashed when he started the scooter and it
sounded so pathetic. Certainly not the roar of a motorcycle that would
vibrate between his legs as he rode it like a beast.
I need a leather jacket, Damar thought to himself. I bet Dukat has one… with studs down the shoulders.
But Damar did not have a leather jacket, just a thin, faded,
canvas jacket, a visor with hair grease on the inside of the band, and a
scooter full of pizza and bad life choices.
A clutch of something like pain but lighter in spite of its jagged angles grips his chest. “You remember that?”
“Yes.” Arthur doesn’t shift his gaze, keeps it focused on Merlin. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about you, watching you.”
Blood rushes to Merlin’s head and hands. “You have?”
“Yes.” Arthur’s palms tighten in a knot and he hangs his head. “I couldn’t help it.”
The words scald Merlin inside. He can’t really stem the tide of their meaning, so he lets it flood over, move him. He leans forward and cups Arthur’s face, stares him in the eye for the longest time, until there’s no doubt about his intention, until a wash of emotion rinses him clean.
All you sugar babies out there, especially to you starting out I cannot stress enough how important it is to have some sort of protection on you when meeting with POTs. I know a lot of you know of the ever wonderful mace, and tasers and such things like that, but sometimes those practical to throw into a clutch or when you want to be a little less obvious and carry something a little lighter. But they make these slightly more concealable, less obvious things that I am in love with. Me being me, I like blades. I carry a knife with me everywhere, not just on dates, but on dates I am sure to not fuck around. I keep one of these in my wallet, they’re small, fairly cheap, and work like a charm. They’re called credit card blades, and they’re very nice. A good one is about 20 bucks on Amazon.
But my personal, all time favorite, subtle thing to carry is a tactical pen. Look how cute these little babies are!
Cute, practical, they even have a stylus tip! Plus, they actually write really well. They’re easy to fit in a clutch, a purse, even clip to whatever you could ever possibly want to clip them to!
Seriously ladies, be safe out there. I know we all know that we are the baddest bitches out of hell, but we gotta take all the precautions we can out there to keep us safe.
Special thanks to @tumblin-monkeys for sending this my way so I didn’t completely murder my eyeballs.
『 Tell us about some of your Christmas memories. 』
EDIT: This revision is courtesy of @kaibutsushidousha, who corrected me on things and now I’m a bit miffed that I missed this, because it’s hilarious: (the sentences in parenthesis are their translation.)
“During our time at Hope’s Peak, Yukizome, Sakakura and myself were
tasked with buying supplies for the Academy’s Christmas party.
(Sakakura and I were going to split the load of things Yukizome bought, but Sakakura proposed that he would carry all of it by himself… I threatened him, saying, ‘then, Sakakura, I’ll carry you to the school along with the rest of the supplies.’)
For a while
after that, it was a running joke of ours that, whenever Sakakura was
going to do something without my say so, I’d threaten him in the same way.“
TL/N: The word Munakata uses here is 脅, which basically means ‘convince someone to do something,‘ so everything from ‘threaten’ to ‘persuade.’
I would have gone with something lighter like ‘bully’ if it fit
Munakata’s speech pattern more, because the image I get from the last
two sentences really shows how close the two of them are, and how they can playfully give each other shit.