#at least that's how it is in my experience!

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[cosmicdreamgrl]

jimin x love yourself in seoul [ cr: namuspromised ]

[ybklix]

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧

╰┈➤ part 2 / part one here

★ lee minho

✦summary: After that unexpected and magnetic encounter, Minho can't get you out of his head and he’s slowly going insane wondering if you’ve been with other men.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / ceo lee know x fem reader / dom!possesive minho / slight bondage / use of sex toys / public fingering / unprotected sex, creampie / sugar daddy

word count: 11.5k

(masterlist)

a/n: ty for reading! my next one shot is ab chan🙂‍↕️

That day for you was more unusual than the previous one, you sat up confused and somewhat hurt when you heard his tone. You rubbed your face trying to wake up completely then you saw clothes spread out on the end of the big bed. Confused, at least you thought he had the dignity to let you go with other clothes and not in an embarrassing way with the previous night's clothes full of sex.

Carefully you removed the big, high-padded sheet from you and, still naked you walked around to get a better look at the garments, Jacquemus black mini skirt, a nice simple blouse with crystal detailing around the neck by Miu Miu, classic Prada loafers and new white underwear. You thought the choice of outfit was somewhat questionable but you still recognized high fashion brands, you were about to put on your clothes until you got a little surprised when you heard the bedroom door open, it was Minho who didn't flinch at seeing you standing naked and, with half of his body peeking out suggested to you in a soft tone:

“You can take a shower if you want.” he gave you a very small smile and walked out.

You weren't sure how to feel and wanted to get out of there quickly, so you cautiously looked around for the door leading to the bathroom, which you had used the night before. You looked at yourself for a few seconds in the mirror realizing that you hadn't checked the time on your phone and embarrassment consumed you as you thought it was late. You also realized you were still wearing those cute earrings so you took them off with the silly little idea of not being able to get them wet, leaving them on the sink counter.

The warm water felt so good on your body and you tried not to focus on anything else. You just had an exquisite night of sex that made you even shiver and weaken, you had never felt anything so extremely strong, nor had you ever cum with such intensity before, no doubt Lee Minho knew how to take care of you and at least you would come out of there with nothing but a pleasant and strange experience… and wearing Prada shoes.

You did your best to be quick and doable, grooming yourself with ease and finally grabbing your phone to get out of there, it was only a few minutes past 10 a.m. You tried to remember the way you were dragged from the entrance to Minho's room, ending up in a point of the house where you didn't remember being a few hours ago, just late at night you were only deeply focused on the lips of the owner of the house, frustrated you released air from your cheeks until you heard a slight noise and practically ran towards it, arriving, in the incredible maze that mansion seemed, to the kitchen where attractively by the counter was Minho sitting, drinking from his cup of coffee and concentrating reading news on his phone.

You caught Minho's attention instantly as he sensed your presence and looked you up and down, approving of how well you looked in everything he ordered to be bought for you. What started with a sweet look at the sight of your still wet hair, ended with him enjoying the sight of your smooth bare legs, intensifying his gaze, making you feel a little intimidated. But of course he would make sure that everything is made to your measure; after having had a magnificent sex and resting your agitated bodies the necessary, once you came back from the bathroom, sorry and with your cheeks tinted in pink, Minho suggested in a strangely tender tone for him “sleep here, it's late, I'll go to the guest room”.

At that moment you wanted to melt, you hadn't heard such a peaceful tone in him during all your journey together and, impulsively you wanted to beg him to stay with you, but nothing came out of your mouth. He watched you sleep for a moment, breathing so calm and confident in his presence, which did in him, awaken a feeling that had left his body years ago. Minho finally slipped away and being alone, without thinking clearly about his actions since he was trapped by the emotion of the return of that strange feeling, he hurried to check Hyunjin's messages that he had ignored so much, in his chat section, where there were screenshots of all your information in that app, at first he was annoyed by the fact that you were in that kind of site, then he took care to study every detail of you. Weight, size, measurements, your birthday two days before his, your young age, your photos… At dawn he quickly ordered them to get you new clothes no matter that most of the stores were closed as it was Sunday, somehow or other they had to get them for you. All this until, seeing you wake up brought him back to reality and he discovered himself acting senselessly for a girl, or what he thought for an instant, a prostitute who slept with him for money; so he shielded himself with his coldness and temper, convincing himself that everything previously planned had been simply polite, and it wasn't because he suddenly cared about you.

You stood for meters away from him, not quite sure what your next move should be, to which he was quick to say:

“Come, eat your lunch.”

You looked at him puzzled, he really was bipolar, you thought, minutes ago he practically ran you off and now he was inviting you to eat.

“Mm, I guess I should-” you tried to wriggle out.

“Eat.” he said abruptly dropping his gentle voice.

That took you by surprise and you noticed the plate of food next to him, you walked over, rounding the counter and sitting uncomfortably next to him. Without saying anything you began to eat, wondering to yourself if you would be able to get out of there soon as he seemed to be holding you back. Still you enjoyed the tasty omelette of your lunch, you wanted to talk but didn't know what to talk about, you didn't really know him and doubted that he was interested in listening to you; however for him, it was more than obvious that he was interested, from the simple detail that he cared about you eating, however he didn't have the courage to accept it to begin with. Minho felt the tension, not sexual, just an incredible invisible pressure on your bodies, he felt nervous to have you around and every now and then he would watch you eating, out of the corner of his eye, tenderly as he pretended to be reading an article on his phone.

Once you finished you realized that he was the one who had run out of words so you jumped out of that high chair, making noise as you stepped on the floor. Minho stared at you.

“I have to go” you said this time, “thank you”.

Minho looked at you confused for a second, wondering to himself if that thank you was the food, the clothes, the fuck or the whole general. You understood, but you didn't want to explain further. Just thank you, and goodbye. Minho didn't want to say goodbye to you like that, he hesitated long enough if he should take you by the waist and kiss you passionately, and even make you his again before leaving his house, after all it wasn't in the initial plan to meet his house, Hyunjin had planned the fuck at his hotel; but all his thoughts were in vain since, you were on the other side of the counter, away from him. Minho wondered for a moment if in order to do everything he thought he had to pay you first, he would do it without hesitation, but he really didn't know the way you worked… or just the way you were. It bothered him so much that you were that kind of girl, just like it pissed him off that you made him hesitate in seconds when he always categorized himself as someone confident.

You picked up your purse that was on the corner of the table next to a medium sized box.

“The box too, it's your dress and shoes” he added trying to dream nonchalantly.

Minho stood up from his seat and led the way out, watching you sway your hips one last time, until you walked straight out towards the big black polarized windows van.

You noticed the driver gave you a naughty look as he deduced that it was a simple wild night as he was the one driving you home and not Lee Minho himself. Minho thought that dropping you home would be too much, although he was dying of curiosity to know where you live and what you did in your free time, he just refused to take him any further. The driver was surprised to ask you where you were going, as it was clearly somewhere less luxurious.

You admired that home one last time, feeling that somehow it would not be the last time you would see it; something in you wanted to believe it.

On the way home you finally had the realization that you had had a great night and that, in a way, you had behaved like a real whore by fucking Felix days ago and then suddenly doing it with another man.

When you got home the only thing out of place was you and your expensive clothes. As was the incredibly high amount in your bank account.

You didn't want to worry anymore thinking about how bad you felt about Felix, it wasn't like you were sure you would see Minho again, but now you questioned if you really saw yourself in a relationship with your friend. So you laid back on your bed and ignored his messages. You were ready to delete that app and deactivate your account which, a day before the encounter Hari set up on your phone and taught you how to use it until you received a message notification from that app, it was Hyunjin, asking without further ado if you had fucked Minho.

On the other hand, Minho tried to distract himself on a non-working Sunday, but he couldn't relax. When the driver arrived, he asked him for your exact address, causing Minho satisfaction to know your location, then he locked himself in his office to work and during the afternoon, after sunset he proposed to watch a movie, but he found it so boring to do it alone… after a long time, for the first time, he missed someone's company. He asked himself what your favorite movie would be.

As he went upstairs to sleep he saw the sheets still impregnated in the scent of the two of you in your night of passion, seeing your image once again in his mind; he let out slightly exasperated air for several reasons, one of them being that he had to make his bed by himself with clean sheets because the clean lady would be coming tomorrow. And another reason for his frustration was the fact that he couldn't think of you being touched and satisfied by another man. And, as she entered the bathroom, his last sign of hope, your diamond earrings over his sink. Minho picked it up and watched carefully, delusionally believing there were only three options as to why that jewelry was there: you genuinely forgot them, you thought he hadn't really given them to you, or you had left them there on purpose to create the perfect excuse to see each other again. Minho questioned whether he should make that happen, a second meeting.

[...]

You had avoided Felix all day during college until in the afternoon you received a text from him that sent chills down your spine, «why didn't you tell me you quit your job? did something happen?». You had to read it twice, surprised that he had to look you up at work. You felt terrible, you couldn't ignore it.

You replied that he doesn’t need worry, you were fine, he offered to let you stay in his apartment but you quickly declined, writing him that you are still fine in your apartment and that you are just studying a script that you would like to talk about later. You weren't good at avoiding Felix, you loved telling him the smallest detail of your life but… you felt that what you had done wasn't so small after all, much less something he would like to hear. However for your best girl friend it was the opposite, she wanted every detail of your night with Minho and your opinion about that very secret job. You couldn't say anything other than, it was fine. You were still processing it and didn't feel comfortable talking about it, but Hari understood.

That same Monday morning, now at Lee Minho's company, he found himself thinking about his love life, on his way to his office, he looked at his secretary and a couple of other women who worked for him… wondering to himself why not them, why not simple women with a normal job, one of them, who Minho knew they were dying for him… but no, he had chosen you as the woman who would not leave his deepest and craziest thoughts. It seemed absurd to him that only one night was enough for him —although he couldn't really classify himself as satisfied with you, he needed more—; but the only information he had about you were those data sent by Hyunjin and the exhaustive search of your social media, as well as your public profile of all your works and small jobs where you were attributed as an actress. Minho noticed the infinity of small projects you had been part of, you seemed to work non-stop. After a few moments he stared at the icon of that app on his screen, app just installed, he wanted to know if your profile was still active and if you were going to continue doing what you did with him, but with other men, that was making him uneasy, also thinking that before him there were a couple of others. He was really considering whether to make an account and see it with his own eyes since, Hyunjin could not give him more details, much less dare to ask him and, when Minho was determined to create an account, two light knocks on his door stopped him, showing in it just the man he was thinking about.

“Come in” he shouted.

His secretary opened the door, peeking out her body.

“It's Mr. Hwang Hyunjin that if you can…”

“Send him in” he interrupted her before she could finish.

Minho thought why not just his secretary, she was pretty, two years younger than him and worked for him since 5 years ago and since she knew the breakup between Minho and Soyul publicly, his worker was in charge of giving him small details on Minho's birthday and Christmas. But he couldn't think of anything else but your overwhelming and exquisite perfume that he smelled near your neck when his chest was touching your naked back while he was touching you and making you his without mercy.

Hyunjin smiled broadly at the sight of his friend sitting behind his desk; he didn't get to see him on Sunday as he was taking care of his next gallery in another city and settling a couple of things left over from the night before at his big gala on Saturday, plus he and Minho weren't the types of men to use their phones to communicate, they needed to see each other to speak to each other.

“How was it?” said Hyunjin amused.

Minho frowned and pretended not to know what he was talking about.

“What brings you here?” replied Minho disinterestedly.

Hyunjin ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth amused letting out a chuckle. And sat down in the chair at the front of his desk.

“You know, Minho…? I noticed something different about you, even your eyes look brighter. I told you what exactly you needed.”

Minho shifted in his seat, defensive to what his friend implied, so once again his impulses took over as a defense mechanism.

“My eyes brighter? For having sex with a hooker? It's not like I was eighteen and just lost my virginity looking for more sex.”

Hyunjin smiled wider.

“So you did fuck, tell me all about it, don't omit any part” Hyunjin exclaimed excitedly wanting to hear it from his older friend since, you had confirmed it to him since Sunday.

Minho thought of you and was infuriated by the fact that he had to refer to you with such a derogatory term. And that every time he talked about you, something horrible had to come out of his mouth. He had to end that once and for all. He thought of you too just now, the softness of your skin, your wet, sweet and tight cunt wrapping around his hard cock so well.

“It was fine” he replied curtly and cleared his throat trying to clear the sudden dirty thoughts of you.

“Just fine?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, hoping for more.

Minho let out a chuckle.

“The newly hormonal deflowered kid looks like someone else. I don't tell my sexual encounters anymore, I'm too old for that.”

“You stopped doing it unless you're in a relationship, are you even in a relationship with her now…?” Hyunjin couldn't wait for a response to the prompt wordness he blurted out and only expressed, “God, y/n looked beautiful that night, I bet she was excellent, I envy you.”

And suddenly something sparked a reaction in Minho, the heated and fun conversation turned serious for him.

“Do you know her name?”

Hyunjin was silent for a second.

“Yes, she told me.”

Minho said nothing. He knew your name too but he didn't think you would go around revealing your identity so easily in this kind of situation.

“Don't play hard to get, I wouldn't just call her a prostitute, but a high class escort, seriously it was a high price since she had apparently joined recently, there was a lot fighting over her. Plus she looked stunning in that Versace” said Hyunjin more relaxed.

But that only made Minho more tense, he wanted him to stop complimenting you, to know the exact amount, how recently you had joined that service… but he found it totally indecent to ask the man who only paid heartlessly. He wanted to talk to you, to hear your point of view.

“But hey, we can finally move on once you finally had sex. I have a normal girl for you available, remember Kim Minjeong from school?”

“Kim Min Jeong” stammered Minho without paying attention.

“Her younger sister, Minkyung just came back from studying abroad, she's 24, she's incorporating in the city again and she's amazing, she really grew up. Rest assured she's totally free from knowing the drama between you and you-know-who. Plus girls love a sad, tormented guy like you who wasn't to blame for the infidelity.”

Hyunjin noticed his distracted friend's serious expression, frowned with a small grimace and decided to play a little.

“Don't tell me you fell in love with y/n, I knew you fell fast but I didn't believe you that fast” he commented jokingly.

Minho raised his gaze and locked his gaze on the Hyunjin…. Minho wouldn't exactly call it being in love, he couldn't accept the term, he didn't even know you, just for the moment you lived in his head all the time and it was getting on his nerves and he wants to refute if he just needs to see you to cease the feeling. What Hyunjin jokingly mentioned, became serious to him once he deciphered the silence in the room so he hurried to say.

“I don't judge you. You see, Chan with that girl, he just bought her an apartment and…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” replied Minho annoyedly hinting that he actually had feelings for you.

He couldn't feel anything —or so he thought— he just wanted to see you again and fuck you hard. Use you for his pleasure over and over again. But he thought it was necessary to get to know the person he would be inserting his penis inside a bit first, it wasn't like he was interested in you beyond sex —or at least he thought that—, he was just curious. But Hyunjin knew Minho was just tricking himself.

“If you want to see her again go ahead, twice is better than once. I promise not to touch her.”

“Of course you never will” Minho sentenced tensely, piercing his gaze with Hyunjin's.

Hyunjin knew instantly that Minho was in that denial phase and that, he was starting to doubt every feeling and emotion that his body emitted and Hyunjin understood it perfectly, after he was betrayed like that, he knew it was hard for Minho to open up again.

“Have you been with other girls from there?” added Minho more calmly once he realized he was being intense.

Hyunjin smiled sideways.

“No, I've only done sexting when I'm bored. No one would convince me until I saw y/n, so perfect not to see her in person; maybe she's worth it” encouraged Minho. “She's pretty, about to graduate from a good college, looks decent and nice.”

Minho wondered if you were worth it. That day once Hyunjin left his office, Minho concentrated on working and it wasn't until late that he remembered again that he'd go home alone and convinced himself to do so, to see you again since he was stressed and was a man with a heavy load every day, so you could help him with that. Minho finally tried to create a profile for himself, he spent minutes stressing sitting behind his desk waiting for his ID to verify until he could finally proceed, he was a little embarrassed about the process of posting pictures of himself and once he had everything ready he quickly looked you up, hoping that you had deleted your account, but at the same time to have a means in which to contact you. And to his greatest response, there you were; your face in some pretty selfies, a couple of others posing outside a club with a radiant smile, he scrolled down looking at all your information until he got to the bottom of your profile with blurred picture and a padlock on it with the description 'For more private content from Cheryl'. Minho blinked naively and tapped the screen, leading him to put in his bank card details and the description 'You will be charged ₩ 10 million when you unlock this feature'. Minho didn't even take 10 seconds as his data were on his phone and quickly unlocked that which he was curious about, he wished he had never done it, it was about pictures of your glorious semi naked body, a body he had touched days ago and was thirsty for more. He looked deeply and in detail at every photo, every angle and noticed that someone else had taken them, but who? He took his time analyzing them and the more he looked at them the more he was furious and clenched his left fist until he exited the app and locked his phone abruptly. He was annoyed and mildly aroused, and that could only be summed up in that he wanted to have you right now on his lap, fucking you furiously to remind you that no other pathetic man in that app could be better than him, make you come and scream better than him. He needed you now.

Minho impulsively opened the app again and offered a huge amount for you, quickly and without thinking he went to your private chat and simply typed «Accept me».

That evening you were relaxing on your couch watching TV, feeling bad because you missed Felix a little, hearing his deep voice saying anything and going out to eat together anywhere he had seen recommendations or trending on the internet.

You received a notification from your bank app and thought it would be another deposit for which you were grateful, you decided not to accept for the moment any other proposal and you would survive for a while with the money from the unlocking of your photos, although there was no regular number of income, and that frustrated you. By inertia you decided to browse a little in the app and saw something that stopped your heart for a second, a message from Lee Minho, you opened it quickly, you didn't believe it was Minho himself, he wasn't the type to be on apps like this, but there it was, his picture. You smiled without realizing it when you saw the small picture in the icon next to the message bubble, in which it said «Accept me». Your smile slowly faded and confused you were about to reply «what?» to him, until he saw that you had seen his message and quickly wrote «Or you need double». You quickly understood and checked your notifications, there it was: Lee Minho offered ₩ 900 million for a meeting. You opened your mouth in surprise, then remembered that he had said if you needed double which offended you that he had put 'need', you accepted it without thinking, impulsively.

You went back to his chat and were about to ask him what exactly he wanted to which he replied with the default message of clarifications: Hwang Palace, of Gangnam tomorrow at 7 o'clock at the restaurant in the Monet section. I need to talk to you.

You let out a sigh, having no idea why he would want to talk to you, besides you were a little hurt that he would have to pay to do so, you would have agreed to talk to him like any normal person with no money involved, sadly you thought he might never see you as anything other than... a woman who has to be paid for her service; you had no other choice, you thought that you had earned that reputation, even if you were just a little bit grateful for this unusual job already, if it wasn't for it you would have never met Minho or gone to an incredible and beautiful event like the one on Saturday…. well maybe it is possible for you to live that experience if you go out with Felix, but that hectic night no one else could have given it to you. A little annoyed you clicked on his picture icon showing his profile, you almost sighed again, seeing how gorgeous he looks, a mirror selfie, wearing a black button up shirt, looking disinterestedly down at the device. You looked at his details, CEO of Sweet Factory, a globally known snacks brand you usually bought at some convenience stores, you had no idea it was his, his birthday, two days after yours, yet he was older than you by almost 10 years, his blood type and even his MBTI, you lowkey had skipped that question. Suddenly you reacted, you were going to see him again tomorrow, your heart was racing.

[…]

The next day you made use of that money and bought a strapped pale yellow thigh-length sequin-detailed dress from 16Arlington, with a square neckline; you spent the day shopping for the perfect complement to your outfit and rushed home to get ready.

Two hours before your meeting, Minho texted you again, asking if you wanted him to pick you up; to which you said yes. Now you were twice as nervous and anxious.

Minho arrived half an hour earlier than planned due to his reservation, you were unsure about giving him your address but you still did it, you wanted to act as normal as possible and not like he had to pay to get the best of you, a nice attitude and appearance.

You got into his car, he had his left arm relaxed and holding the steering wheel, he swept his eyes over you and a smile came across his face seeing you looking so cute and dolled up for him.

“Hello, again” you mumbled shyly.

Minho kept looking at you with a smile and started his car. The drive was not uncomfortable despite being silent, you saw his profile side from time to time and noticed how truly attractive he looked, his strong and sharp nose, his round eyes showing with his elongated eyelashes, his upper lip finely bigger than the lower one and his marked jaw, you could watch him for hours.

He was dressed all in black, with his button down shirt tight to his body and the sleeves rolled up his arms, he was wearing tight jeans that showed off his thick and worked thighs so appetizing, you wanted to suddenly let out a gasp thinking how much you want to feel like sitting on his lap. Minho knew you were looking at him shamelessly and it almost made him blush.

He looked relaxed, but he wasn't, he had meticulously practiced every word he would say to you tonight. He was slyly looking at you all of a sudden and couldn't contain his excitement.

You arrived at the same place where it all started, Hyunjin's hotel, this time heading towards the restaurant where Minho mentioned the reservation on your behalf and soon you were guided to the place, entering a beautifully lit place, inspired by Claude Monet's paintings. You walked behind Minho the whole time and when you reached his table you bit your lip nervously before sitting down. You wanted to build confidence so you looked him straight in the eyes and he quickly caught your gaze too; you said:

“If you wanted to invite me to dinner you should have done it like any normal person.”

Minho tried to act cool so as not to raise suspicion of his nervousness, he looked at you without interest and raised an eyebrow.

“Normal?”

“You were able to look up my Instagram and ask me without... having to pay me” you whispered the last sentence.

“You don't want the money?” he replied curtly as he lowered his gaze to the menu.

You didn't know what to answer, but before he could assume an answer you rushed to tell him.

“I can give it back to you.”

Minho let out a chuckle and raised his gaze again to you.

“I don't care, you can keep it. Just like… something you forgot at my place.”

You frowned and Minho reached into his pants pocket, leaving the pair of earrings he'd bought you on Saturday on the table, you'd forgotten all about it.

“Agh, the old excuse of forgetting something at the other person's house so I'd be forced to return it to you and have to see you.” Minho smiled, playfully, “They're yours, keep them.”

You smiled shyly and took them, putting them away in your bag, you wanted to argue that you had genuinely forgotten them, but seeing Minho this proud made you feel somehow happy, he looked cute with his sideways smile and bright gaze.

“You planned all this just to return me a pair of earrings?” you played along.

“They're real diamonds, sweetie.”

Then Minho stared at you, from your groomed hair to the perfect slit in your chest, it became serious for him, he had to say what he had to say.

“I want you to delete your account on that app and work for me” Minho suddenly blurted out, you manifested confusion on your face, not sure what he was referring to, so he continued, “… as my personal assistant. You will have to follow me everywhere and be with me all the time.” he said, in a funny and proud way the last sentence.

You were still speechless, you didn't know where that was suddenly coming from, to which Minho continued.

“I'll pay you well, more well than you can earn doing that, plus it's a decent job.” he proposed, practically begging.

“Why?” was all you could articulate.

“Because I want you to quit…”

You pinned your gaze on his big eyes that were shining brighter than usual.

“Why should I work for you.”

“Why would you want to be doing the other thing for money anyway?” he replied submissively, on a pretty and pity look of his you never saw before.

You blinked suddenly, formulating the right words.

“I mean, why would I work for you if I don't know you… I don't know what you do…”

“You didn't see my information in my account?” he replied now in a funny tone, “I know you're not related to companies so I won't make you do that. Think about it. I'll leave you my number, I know you're still in college, tell me your schedule.”

You released a soft laugh, suddenly not believing what he just said.

“What’s so funny?” he said serious. “I never joke about work.”

You nodded, trying to decipher every hidden message he wanted to give you.

“What are you going to order?” he smiled at you.

[…]

“He wants you so bad.” said Hari from the other line of the call.

“I was so confused the whole time, I'm afraid he just wants to you know, fuck me.”

“So? I thought you loved sex with him.”

“Yeah… it's just that it won't be far from reality, he'll pay me to fuck him.”

“What? Why the sudden embarrassment about expressing your sexuality? He'll pay you normally for working with him, the sex will add a special touch. So, will you take him up on his offer?”

“I don't know, Hari…”

“Doesn't it turn you on that he's an older man with experience and money crazy about you? Because it works on me with Chan all the time. it's so funny, they're so needy, you'll have him wrapping around you finger soon.”

You had really loved every part of having sex with Minho, but you were in doubt whether you would feel bad about taking the offer. But today had been dreamy, he was a gentleman with you, asked about you, looking interested and dropped you off at your place without even touching a hair on your head and looking at you with lust.

Then you got home, after a nice dinner with Minho, you did the inevitable and deleted your account and existence from that server. You had a lovely night, you didn't think you could exchange more than two words with Minho, but he wasn't as cold and curt as he wanted to portray himself after all; this time he opened the door for you as you got in and out of his car. On the other hand Minho was so obsessed and on the lookout for you that he knew instantly when you deleted all your information, causing him to smile, after 5 minutes a message telling him that you could start in the afternoon.

[...]

When you woke up the next day, the first thing you saw was a new message from Lee Minho, depositing more money and telling you it was for you to start your new closet of elegant outfits. And so after a couple of classes you headed out to buy your first Chanel suits suitable for work.

And there you were, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon wearing a tweed style skirt and pale pink coat. You were feeling pretty and extremely nervous. Minho's secretary greeted you kindly and showed you what she could on you way to Minho's office up to the top floor of the building.

“The young lady is here.” his secretary informed Minho over the phone.

Minho smiled broadly and swiveled on his chair, ready to see you walk through his door. And there you were, looking as angelic as ever, you had taken his breath away, no doubt all those outfits were made for you no matter what, or what you were wearing you looked beautiful in his eyes, Chanel, Versace, Gucci or Prada, or naked in his arms, either way you stole Minho's breath away. You smiled shyly at him and walked towards him, Minho quickly stood up from his chair and moved dangerously close to you, bringing your bodies together, you raised your gaze to see his eyes better.

“Welcome to your first day of work,” he whispered sweetly, “they'll explain everything better outside and give you a tour.”

You looked into his eyes and then straight to his lips, you realized you hadn't kissed him in three days and you were dying to feel it. Minho liked to tease you, bringing his body closer, looking provocatively at you from above with a lascivious look, he couldn't wait to taste you. After he achieved his goal and saw your breathing getting heavy, he pulled away from you with a playful smile.

“Get to work.” he said to you.

You almost whimper not feeling his touch.

[...]

The rest of the working girls tried to socialize with you with the hidden intention of finding out who you were and why someone so young would work for Lee Minho as his assistant. You didn't know what to answer them, really your career was not related to her work environment but you thought that... being an actress who must build her way little by little, maybe in one of those jobs you could have been the assistant of a famous actress so you thought so to motivate yourself and not to think that you were only doing it because in a way your body and mind were asking you to be close to Minho and the opportunity had been opportune. You needed him.

You worked the rest of the day while his secretary told you what to do and what your job was from today, set up Minho's meeting times, set up meetings, etc. Occasionally when he would leave his office and return to it, he would see you tenderly concentrating with a frown trying to figure out whatever you were doing on the computer. It didn't take long for the rest of his employees to notice and the gossip began to detonate without you noticing. You still awkwardly hoped for some message from Minho, telling you whatever, but talking to you, you were frustrated and desperate, he never wrote you or addressed you, so in a way you were happy that it was a normal job and he treats you decently as an employee, but another part of you was so sad that he wouldn't talk to you to sneak into his office and fuck you hard, not even to give him a simple blowjob, you thought.

Your day was about to end, between work and the occasional flirtation with men, of whom you were not interested in the least, the man you wanted was now locked in his office and had total command and the highest position in the pyramid.

Everyone was starting to leave and you realized that you didn't discuss your departure time with Minho, so, almost hopping towards his office, you were going to see him to ask him; hoping that your presence in that room would escalate to something else quickly.

You knocked softly on his door until you heard a “Come in” in a fiery demanding tone. You quickly arranged your hair and skirt before entering, until you stepped through the door. You met a serious and concentrated Minho reading some sheets on his desk, you didn't want to interrupt him, but he realizing that someone opened the door and no one spoke, was about to complain annoyed and frustrated until he saw you and his face relaxed and lit up.

“What are you doing here?” he asked you softly.

“Everyone is leaving, I was wondering if I should…”

“What time is it?” sighed Minho frustratedly checking the watch on his wrist. “Agh,” he gasped in exasperation closing his eyes and dropping back in his chair, which you found extremely appealing, “I didn't notice the time.”

You swayed on your spot, still not receiving a response as you watched Minho try to recover, he looked tired, after all he worked more than 12 hours a day. So you slowly approached him, trying to hide your smile and, without him noticing your actions, as he was carving his face hard to be able to strip a little, you were already in front of him, with your butt leaning on his desk. Minho saw you with surprise as he noticed you were close by and cheekily watched your silhouette as he smiled sideways in satisfaction.

“You look stressed…” you said seductively leaning towards him and massaging his shoulders. Minho closed his eyes enjoying your touch, he really did need something like this. “Can I help you?”

Minho opened his eyes watching you piercingly and lustfully, you were starting to make him horny and there was no turning back.

“Will you do it? Will you work overtime?” he answered you with a deep voice and smile plastered on his face enjoying every second of your company.

“I'd do it for free” you approached him, brushing the tip of your nose with his. “Besides it's for the good of the company's head.”

He let out a chuckle as he watched your lips inches away. Minho finally grabbed you around the waist and made you sit roughly on his lap, bringing his lips together slowly, being careful in every detail of the kiss, even intensifying it by playing with his tongue in your mouth. At last, you were back crazy, you felt so wet in seconds, and one of your fantasies came true, you were sitting on his firm legs, whose worked muscle was not the only hard thing, you could feel his hard erection sticking to your ass and your sex throbbing in desperation as if she had a memory of her own remembering the sensation of Minho's big cock choking inside you.

You could only hear the sharp sound of your heaving breaths and your lips check in wet kisses, you were so turned on you could cum from just kissing him, Minho started slow and passionate and that soon rose to something more desperate and rough, you loved every bit of it. Breathlessly, you broke away from him without breaking eye contact, he loved seeing your innocent eyes full of desire. You were so exasperated to feel his hands on your body so you awkwardly and excitedly began to unbutton your coat, your heart was pounding and you felt every beat pounding in your ears and your eyes throbbing with excitement. Minho watched your movements, your fingers struggling against the buttons until finally opening it, revealing your bare chest and abdomen only wearing your bra. Minho bit his lips completely horny, however he didn't agree that you had nothing down below on.

“You were walking around like that, with nothing on underneath” he tried to scold you.

You smiled playfully at his angry reaction. If that was his reaction of you wearing a bra, let alone the tiny, provocative underwear you were wearing in case he wanted to fuck you, and he was about to. Although Minho wanted a great fuck, something to say how much he missed you… but the way you were teasing him and playing like a slut, so he thought, drove him crazy, he couldn't stand the thought of you walking around susceptible to catching the attention of other men.

“You'll get angrier taking my skirt off, then” you moved closer to his left ear muttering.

Minho let out an annoyed sigh, almost snorting, he wanted to take your ass and whip it until he made you cry and understand that you could not provoke anyone but him. As you slowly pulled away, brushing his cheeks you saw Minho's dark stern countenance, he was no longer smiling enjoying himself and playing. You thought he looked fucking good this upset, that he even scared you a little, you smiled in nervousness.

“Take that off” he ordered you, smacked looking down at your bra and jacket.

You obeyed him instantly and, you still saw the darkness of desire in his big brown eyes, but his expression was still serious, annoyed. Minho settled you, turning your body with agility, so that your back was pressed against his chest, pulled your hair back from your right side and positioned his head next to yours between the space of your neck and shoulders. He stroked your thighs with his right hand until he slipped his large hand inside your skirt and deftly searched your delicious crease line from your clitoris to your soaking wet entrance. Minho smiled softly feeling your body contract at his slightest touch to your pussy. On the other hand, his left hand and forearm held and squeezed your breasts tightly; having you completely overwhelmed and compressed to his body roughly.

Minho parted the thin fabric of your underwear with his fingers while with the rest he began to play energetically with your pussy, massaging in slow and delicate movements your weak spot making you tremble and producing more and more slippery and thick fluids sliding down your entrance, you were so ecstatic. And, to further increase your pleasure combined with torture, he took it upon himself to pinch your nipples and squeeze your breasts hard. Minho never took his caresses away from your clitoris taking you to the extreme and in surprise he started to fuck you with two of his long fingers quickly causing you to let out a little scream.

Every now and then you let your head lean back on your boss's shoulder giving you pleasure, your body was tense, every muscle in you felt stiff from the position you were in and the sudden pleasure you were getting. You were about to relax, let go and cum, but once Minho noticed, he abruptly released you and took your chin to look at him, leaving you no time to whine about your first missed orgasm.

“Suck my cock now” he commanded you fiercely almost pushing your head down.

You opened your mouth in amazement, until you got on your knees and stripped him of his tight belt and his suffocating pants and underwear. Even your mouth became wet as you saw again Minho's big manhood firm and hard in front of your eyes, you were so ready for the to suck him off. You felt it so exquisitely in your hands, there was no other cock like Minho's you had ever tasted, let alone wanted to surpass, you loved that it was perfect and so well kept, Minho kept his area very well waxed and clean; you couldn't tell it was to size because it hurt from how swollen and big it was as he fucked you through your vagina.

You leered at Minho, heart and pussy throbbing; he was looking down at you from above with a serious expression, his mouth was pulled together in a thin line and his trademark high cheekbones on his face showing no emotion, you knew he was aroused by his breathing and his latent cock in your hand. You stuck out your tongue and flicked his hard cock in it, while making eye contact with him for a few seconds. You sighed and began to devour his manhood. Minho gasped, grabbed your hair in a fist and lifted his hips a little, accidentally ramming your mouth making his cock reach to touch a little deeper into your palatal uvula.

“Fuck me deeper, princess” Minho whined, pushing your head and moving his hips.

It was huge, you took slight gasps of air every now and then, you were pleasurably suffering, your eyes were watering, you were leaking cum and saliva and Minho's gasps and little grunts were your favorite soundtrack, you were delighted both sensorially and aurally. Minho pushed you further until you felt him touch your throat a little, your body reacted and he quickly pulled your hair back, pulling his full length out of your mouth all at once, the sudden movement made it splash little droplets of liquid in the air falling on your bare tits, you were a mess, your lips and tip of your nose were red and swollen, your eyes were watering, and you were so flushed, you tried to catch your breath, looking loosely towards Minho who smiled so broadly showing his teeth, his tender uneven front incisors in the shape of a bunny.

“Oh, look at you” he said huskily in a look of pure pride, seeing his greatest treasure, your pleasure.

Minho, extremely excited took the base of his stiff cock with his fingers and wiggled it close to your face, slapping your pretty face gently.

“Come here and show me your nice ass, love.”

You gave everything to stand up again, you were weak, trembling and so soaked in your fluids. He turned you roughly by the waist, making you rest your palms on his desk. You raised your ass for him and arduously Milnho tried to pull up your skirt but the material was somewhat thick and unmanageable.

“Take my skirt off” you whimpered in supplication as you felt his hands run up and down your thighs.

“You have no right to tell me what to do unless I ask you to” Minho demanded and roughly pulled the skirt up as best he could, squeezing your waist tighter due to it being high waisted, you groaned at the friction.

Minho finally stood up, stroking your soft buttocks, his outside cock jumping at the movement. You felt the tip of his cock rub against your skin even though he was withdrawn, you wanted him to fuck you now, you wanted it to ache so good just the way he knew how.

Minho took his time, sliding down your soaked panties, appreciating the sweet liquid dripping into you, once he pulled the fabric down.

“Shit, y/n, did you cum already or are you just this wet?” he said in a sigh, sad that you didn't deserve to have your pussy eaten today.

You nodded and whimpered as you felt an unexpectedly hard spank.

“Yes what? I'm not a fucking mind reader, use your words.”

“I-i'm so wet” you whined.

“All that…?” Minho let out a haughty chuckle, thinking all that, just for a few touches from him. “Now, how many spankings for you to understand that you shouldn't act like a whore and go around with nothing on under your work clothes? Speak up!”

You couldn't think straight, last time Minho whipped you so hard that he left you sore for at least up to twelve hours after the blow.

“Five” you stammered without reasoning it out. Minho laughed derisively.

“Let's make it ten because I really met you being a fucking whore. Count them or we start again from zero.”

You screamed as you felt the first spank and gasped breathlessly “One.”

By the fourth spank you couldn't take it anymore, his hand was too heavy and the sound of the smack against your skin was so grotesque. You leaned limply back on your elbows on his desk, biting your lip hard and almost crying, you were still saying the scourge number as you were not thinking clearly, you did not want to be hit twice as hard again. Despite feeling so much pain, you felt strangely so much pleasure, you could feel the tip of Minho's cock brush against your entrance as he came on you.

“Did you learn your lesson, baby?”

“Yes” you cried, your buttocks were burning and you felt the flow of your blood travel fast fighting for your well being.

“Did it hurt?” whispered Minho excitedly leaning into your ear.

“Yes” you pleaded again.

You felt his rough balls and penis rub against your spine, then he pulled away from you, Minho unbuttoned his shirt quickly so it wouldn't get in the way of what he was about to do and, without warning, finally you cried out as you felt him all the way inside of you.

“So you want me to go slow, doll?” he asked ecstatically.

But despite your growing pain, you denied, you wanted to feel every millimeter of his cock inside, you had been looking forward to it so much that you even endured horrible strokes.

“No?” asked Minho incredulously. “Well, you said it. You love being fucked like a slut.”

And he began to penetrate you roughly and deeply, touching your sensitive buttocks; it felt so good, reaching all the way to your cervix with no problem. You gasped endlessly, it was pleasure to feel his cock filling your pussy roughly and your miserable body destroyed, strangely you loved it.

“I'm going to fill your pretty pussy, I'm going to cum in you, you like that, yes?” panted Minho speeding up his onslaught.

After minutes of thundering sex, your bodies joined together creating moaning sounds and skin on skin collisions, your aching body could take no more and you exploded enveloping and lubricating more of Minho's veiny cock, which was still thrusting in and out mercilessly, until after a small whimper, Minho's abdomen contracted and he cursed something barely understandable throwing his head back in complete pleasure, filling your insides with his semen. He slowly slid his length outward, opening your tight pussy a little with his thumbs, satisfied at the grotesque scene of his cock emerging from your orifice bathed in his thick white liquid.

You lay there for a few seconds, sprawled on his desk trying to catch your breath while Minho did the same, resting his cock on your buttocks. He tried to lift you up, you were in pain and lying down, he made you turn to look at him, cleaned the rest of the residue around your mouth and kissed you sweetly.

You received the first care after Minho's sex.

[…]

Your butt hurt so bad but you still followed Minho home since, according to him he had an important meeting at another company and wanted you to help him pick out the perfect outfit. And then you walked into his huge closet, almost making you sigh, it was a room that could easily be for rent in a crowded city like this. His shelves with his Gucci suitcases, his bags perfectly arranged and hung, you stopped looking perplexed at the space and returned your gaze to Minho who was watching you.

“What should I wear?” he said.

You walked over to the clothes and started searching without any idea in mind, you didn't know what he had in his closet so it was hard to think of the perfect outfit, you knew he would outshine any simple businessman anyway. You grabbed clothes at random choosing a white shirt, pants, jacket and tie, all in black.

“It looks good, do you want me to try it on?”

You mumbled a soft “Mm?”, but you were surprised to see Minho look down at his pants as he took them off, embarrassed you reflexively looked away as if you hadn't seen it all before. He noticed your reaction and smiled. However you couldn't help it, you had never seen him get dressed before so looking guilty and slyly you managed to see how the pants went up with agility but got slightly stuck on his package, Minho had to adjust it and, he put on the shirt so attractively raising his arms and sliding them inside the sleeves. Minho took your hand and directed it towards the terminals of it, indicating you to help him button it, he watched you carefully, wishing he could live like this with you on a daily basis. Suddenly the tension grew in you again, you looked up, into his eyes….

“It looks good on you” you murmured in front of his face.

Minho pulled you to his body pushing your ass ready to kiss you, but you moaned in pain.

“How can I make it up to you?” he said sympathetically noticing your pain.

You didn't know what to reply, to which Minho silenced your thoughts with a tender, slow kiss. Without realizing it and very carefully, you sat down on the stool in the middle of the closet; Minho was ready to make you happy again. He spread your legs apart and once again ruined your skirt by roughly lifting it up, he fiddled with your cunt which was just starting to get wet, Minho thought it looked just as nice and tidy, almost as if a few hours ago it hadn't been completely destroyed.

Minho buried his head between your legs, positioning your legs on his shoulders, he squeezed your thighs hard and you felt some of his warm saliva lubricate your pussy further. He was devouring you alive. His tongue digging at your entrance and his nose rubbing your center, you rolled your eyes in pure pleasure.

[…]

You had mentioned to Minho that you would be more comfortable if he took you home, so he did, he offered you to stay with the condition that early in the morning he could not attend you, that even when you were able to wake up he would not be at home due to his important day of meetings, so he would be at each of them as early as possible.

You said goodbye to him, both with an intense look and warm smile. You headed to your apartment and to your surprise, Felix was waiting at your door.

“Sorry, I wanted to see you and you weren't answering your messages” Felix sketched a smile once he saw.

Felix examined you and noticed your expensive suit, but wanted to save himself the question, he sensed something was up and preferred to live in ignorance than to know something that could hurt him. You smiled tenderly at him and invited him in.

“I missed you” he said and kissed you quickly on the cheek.

You felt horrible, he had stolen that kiss from you but… even if you had washed your face, you had had another man's cock around your face. You knew you and Minho weren't exclusive but… you couldn't be with two men at once. But the way Minho drove you crazy, there was no comparison, his sex slapping against yours, his skill in everything he does, making you beg if necessary.

“Is something wrong?” you were distracted by Felix, you denied softly. “Will you sit down?”

Oh, you couldn't do it, your ass was still burning with pain from Minho's spanking. And you weren't the least bit upset.

[…]

The next day was just as Minho had told you, he would be busy outside the company, you almost didn't see him even though you followed him everywhere as his assistant. There you were, in 7 different waiting rooms, just watching him move around with other executives as you tried to keep up with them. You could tell how focused he was and how important it was to him because he barely saw you.

Once his long day was over, almost two hours before the end of the working hours he set for the workers, you both walked silently to the car where the driver started off towards Minho's company.

You looked at him, he was serious, wearing exactly the suit you had chosen for him and, he almost seemed annoyed, you wanted to ask him what it was that suddenly made him angry, but he turned to look at you and smiled sideways, caressing your hand that rested on that long seat, both were sitting at each end of the side of the window.

After the silent ride, Minho went straight to his office and you felt like you were stranded there. Ten minutes later you got a message from him that he wanted you in his office now. You smiled, thinking he would be willing to talk.

You walked in and once he saw you, he held up his hands waving them in a sign for you to come closer.

“Come here.” he ordered you.

You walked confused and understood that he wanted you on his lap so you sat down… it wasn't the kind of encounter you projected, you really thought he wanted to talk but… if he wanted to do that, you didn't complain.

Minho suddenly had a sad, sorrowful look on his face and, there it was in him, the question that drove him crazy.

“Tell me, y/n, have you been with other men?” he suddenly blurted out.

You watched him for a few seconds examining his expression… that puzzled you too much, he seemed genuinely sad. You didn't know what to say, so you laughed in nervousness, thinking about what kind of question that was. Why he suddenly cared.

Minho had had a horrible experience among pure men, secreting contemptuously about girls like you, at least about your version of the secret, past life of yours. Something inside of him… he became angry little by little, until he felt stranded, he couldn't think about the fact that you were touched by someone else and, the worst was when he had to see how other guys approached you to flirt with you during his little business trip.

Minho saw you laugh but didn't find it the least bit funny, he actually almost cried in front of you, asking you that question.

“Well, clearly I'm not a saint…”

“I am referring to men before me who also received your… former service.”

You stared at him trying to decide if he was drunk from his nonsensical questions. But Minho was only crazy about you, it was his doom in dope. He couldn't resist it, little by little he realized, that he wanted you together with him and for him.

You laughed again and without answering him you kissed him, you had never seen him so yielded and submissive, his eyes shone almost wanting to shed tears, strong emotions made Minho sentimental despite being a rough man. You didn't think he was like that.

And for the first time he let you take control, he felt so lost in you, you lowered your kisses down his neck, unsure if you should continue, Minho saw you hesitating before him and placed his hand over yours near his shirt. He looked you straight in the eyes, suddenly darker than usual and said:

“Let's do something fun tonight.”

You smiled. There was the Minho you knew. He let you unbutton his shirt and a matter of a couple of minutes, your desperate hands masturbated his cock as you sought to adjust it to your pussy, mounting him in his chair. That dangerous game was getting out of hand, you felt so good that without thinking about it you could become obsessed.

Hours later that night, Minho took you to his room where you quickly noticed sex toys lying on the bed. You swallowed and let out an incredulous chuckle and looked at Minho who was calmly taking off his watch leaving it on his TV cabinet without paying attention to you. You liked his definition of fun.

“I can't believe it, you're like Christian Grey in real life.” you said amused.

Minho turned to look at you.

“Who?”

“You don't know 50 shad-, never mind, you must be too old for that.”

He smiled sideways at your comment and moved dangerously close to you.

“You think I'm too old for you?” he whispered to you.

You denied in amusement biting your lip, you loved it when he had the dominant one.

“Let's try something new,” he spoke curtly “get undressed.”

Your imagination flew at the sight of the objects on the bed and you nimbly stripped off all your clothes, waiting for more orders from Minho.

“Get on your knees on the bed.”

Confused, you tried to follow his instructions and, you saw him take the pink rope from the bed, your breath hitched, thinking he was going to tie you up.

“You know how I love camping? I'm very good with knots.” you looked at him smiling.

Minho slowly started to wrap you in that rope, passing it across your abdomen, breasts, tying your wrists behind your back, as well as your feet and suddenly you had lost your balance, you were completely immobile and tied tightly.

“We should go camping sometime.” you replied.

He took the ball gag and without saying anything, placed it in your mouth, this was getting interesting for you. You were lying on your side, impossible to move, Minho arranged you so that you were facing him, uncomfortable in your position as your hands and legs were attacked right behind.

And then the tantalizing game began, with Minho taking the vibrator he had prepared, sticking it on your clitoris as you moved in desperation in search of relaxation of your muscles, thinking about how you had come this far, being sexually pleasured every day.

“I'm going to fuck you hard” he warned you.

He did it the only way he could get away with it, your moans were drowned out by the ball gag and Minho faced the amusing and slightly humiliating sight of your needy body, wanting to escape the restraints.

Minho loved sex with you and the myriad of sensations you made him feel… but now he was so curious that there was connection beyond something sexual. He wanted to walk you and spoil you while you dressed so pretty for him. He would do anything for you.

[…]

“What is y/n doing here?” asked Hyunjin as he approached Minho.

Hyunjin had visited him since, despite being busy, he had something important to tell him. However your presence on his way to Minho's office surprised him.

“She works here.” replied Minho, leaning on his desk reading papers and not looking at Hyunjin.

“She works here? Isn't she like 20?” he repeated incredulously.

This time Minho raised his eyes and gave him a dirty look. Hyunjin understood instantly, the almost forgotten detail he noticed from the beginning, the obviousness in which Minho liked you.

“Speaking of age” Hyunjin continued, “I'm here because you know I don't hold back surprises and… you're very likely to ditch me or cancel at the last minute on the date, but this is something you can't cancel, since it's about your surprise birthday party.”

Minho looked at him confused, he hadn't even asked for a party.

“Hyunjin, I appreciate it but… you know you could have done something small.”

“I know, I remembered it once I had invited everyone. It will be this Saturday at my mother's country club. You got to celebrate welcoming your thirties.”

Minho checked the time, he didn't want to rush Hyunjin but you and him would have their first normal date…

And for both of you, it couldn't have been better, you talked so much, you knew Minho's various giggles and the weirdness in which he explained each of his stories, using gestures, you remembered every detail about him. Just like his sudden news that he would help you in your real professional career, you didn't want to accept it at first, but he had awkwardly said something to about how pretty you would look on every red carpet, blushing all over you. And you found yourself terrified that… you might like him. Since you'd had everything just the way you envisioned, a tender, perfect date, involving roses and ending… having sex so sweetly it makes you doubt if it's love.

You had asked Minho to give you the next day off, since you wanted to support Felix all the time in his short film project that he created and directed. The ceremony started and, almost like a revelation, you wanted to cry, it had been beautiful and it was about love, something unknown to you… you wondered if… after all… it could be Minho the person with whom you could cry without worry.

Felix saw you sad and knew you so well that he understood every single sign you gave as if you were in love, but sadly, they were not towards him. It was time to let you go.

And to you, almost as if reading your mind, you received a message from Minho, saying he was having a party tomorrow and needed you to help him pick out an outfit.

[…]

Everything was ready thanks to Hyunjin, people chatting with champagne glasses in their hands on the large green grassy area celebrating Minho's birthday in advance. You thought he looked so good in well pressed black cloth pants, black boots and a light blue shirt, with the Gucci cherry baseball jacket with white adding a great touch.

When you sat down to eat at the elongated table, you sat next to Minho, who, with a mischievous smile, and under the table, with guests present, slipped his hand under your dress, playing with your pussy a little. You thought he was unbelievable, always looking for an excuse to have your attention and reaction, you stopped him, once you were so wet and you were barely going to get to slowly approach your climax.

“Excuse us” Minho said grabbing you by your forearm, making you stand up.

Minho couldn't hold it in any longer. The crowd made him anxious and he found a certain safe space in you, so he dragged you out of sight of the crowd, and as he did so, you managed to quickly grab a cupcake from the dessert table.

You were about to eat your cupcake, slightly disinterested in whatever Minho was going to tell you, until you looked at Minho's pale expression, it alarmed you a little, you blinked worriedly but he interrupted you.

“I want you to be mine, I want to help in whatever you do, I want to be there for you all the time…”

Minho spoke, only as he knows how, trying to be gentle, but with a certain intensity in his actions and look.

You smiled sweetly, thinking of the rare way to say 'I like you', playfully smeared a bit of cupcake cream on the tip of his nose, causing him to tenderly giggle.

“I like you too, Minho.”

You smiled and licked the polish off his nose. Minho grabbed you by the waist bringing your bodies closer and looked at you sweetly.

“Tomorrow is your birthday, what do you want to do? I would do anything for you.”

--------------------

₊˚⊹ ᰔ TAGLIST: @stayceebs97 @linocz @kimseungminsprincess @xhazmania @strayzid

[dekariosclan]

With you, I forget my goddess

So, I have completed Bg3 twice now, but on both runs I’ve romanced Gale (truly shocking, I know) and therefore I had never seen Gale’s non-romance discussion with Tav about the Annals of Karsus.

I recently got to see it, and what surprised me the most is how extremely angry and bitter Gale is about Mystra’s treatment of him. Rightfully and understandably so, but it’s something we do not see or experience in the romance version.

This got me thinking about the difference in Gale’s reactions in the friendship vs romance scenes, why they are different, and also how this relates to the complaints I’ve read about Gale ‘still not being over Mystra even when romancing Tav’.

(Note that I’m mainly going to focus on the portions of each dialogue that relate to Mystra in particular, and I’m not referencing the ‘alternate’ boat scene w/Gale—where he tells you beforehand that he will return the crown to her—since he doesn’t mention Mystra at all there.)

Screencaps below are from @munmomuu’s wonderful video on YouTube. The screencaps take place after Gale has read the Karsus book. If you are romancing him, before you reach this point, the conversation ends because he tells you he wants to discuss it later “in private,” during the boat scene.

But in a friendship run, he will explain what he’s read to you and then begin to make his case for using the crown:

Gale: Some gods may delude themselves into believing they care about their worshippers, but when it comes down to it - we’re all expendable. Children to be appeased, not respected.

Gale: I worshipped Mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power I was ready to wield.

Gale: Even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. She’s done nothing to help us.

There then comes a dialogue branch where Tav can ask this:

And Gale replies, with understandable bitterness:

Gale: She sent me to die.

Look at how angry he is during this whole exchange, and how he focuses all that anger on the past, and what Mystra has done to him (or not done, as he points out she’s offered them no help at all.)

— — —

Now let’s compare this to his Mystra dialogue in the boat scene:

Gale: I’ve already defied Mystra. Had I followed her command, there’d be nothing left of me but a smoking crater.

Gale: The tadpoles, the orb - these threats to our existence - the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind Ao. So let us act ourselves.

Gale: I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for.

Notice how there’s no fiery anger at Mystra here, just Gale’s resigned belief that the Gods have failed them.

So what’s the key component that makes Gale react so differently in each scenario?

It is, of course, Tav.

More specifically, it’s Tav’s love for him, which has clearly helped his heart heal from the trauma that he’s experienced. Yes, Tav’s friendship is extremely important as well, and yes, Gale is still insecure even with Tav’s love (‘you would really prefer me as I am?’) but the extreme bitterness, the anger, all of that is gone. Here, Gale is no longer hung up on Mystra and the past; he’s looking to the future. Because now that he has Tav, what he desires most is to take his life and his fate back from the Gods and into his own hands—with Tav at his side.

The irony is that some people complain about Gale ‘not being over Mystra’ while he’s actively romancing Tav, but just look at the difference in the dialogue! Look at how focused he is on Mystra when he is not romancing Tav, and then how she becomes a mere afterthought once Tav has claimed his heart.

I really enjoyed seeing this level of detail. I think it perfectly illustrates Gale’s frame of mind in each scenario, as well as showing the positive impact Tav’s love has on Gale.

And last but not least—it confirms that Gale was not exaggerating when he says this:

Gale: With you, I forget my goddess. I love you.

— — —

[bledmouth]

boothill brain rot ! cw for injury.

“aw heck..not you.” boothill cringes- his body squeaks and scrapes as he limps toward the operating table.

you shrug a carefree shoulder, “be glad i’m the one treating you, if it were somebody else..they'd be happy to scrap your ass till you're out of order.”

boothill tries to remain calm, one of his fist clenches as he directly looks at you with narrowed eyes.

you were highly aware of the fact that his synesthesia beacon was indeed tampered with, so you entertained yourself by saying a few cuss words here and there, making sure he heard it all.

“you keep yourself safe..” (kill yourself) his voice is low with irritation- and you find it funny how his threats almost sound empty because you know that he knows you're right.

“go on, sit.” you gesture to the flat space of the operating table, boothill grunting as he struggles to sit on the table.

“those vermin.. i coulda beaten ‘em,” boothill seethes under his breath, you could feel the tension in the air as he talks about the incident.

“left me no choice, my arm disconnected- dumb thing, it wouldn't move even though i budged-” he sighs, long and tired as he slumps in defeat.

your gloved fingers touched the apple of his cheek and he grunts when you graze at a particularly deep cut.

the ‘blood’ was blue, it emmited a slightly foul smell but it wasn't anything you weren't used to already.

“it's amazing how you can feel like an actual person,” you say automatically, “no offense.” boothill just chuckled, low and mocking, “no comment.”

“a relief they didn't damage your brain, it would've been such a problem to put you back together hm?” you clean the wound on his cheek, as it begins to look smaller now.

after the clean up, you move to his right arm- it was limp and damaged, almost as if it was hit with a sledgehammer repeatedly.

“this arm needs replacing,” you grab one of the chargers that's compatible for his other arm and plug it in its port- and you pay your attention back to his right one.

“body makeover! i’m gonna need your consent so i can shut you down for…uh..” a finger on your chin, “an hour or two?”

boothill gives you a look you've never seen before, although it was gone instantly and he feigns nonchalance.

“yeah, yeah. just be quick with it,” his brows furrow with his eyes on the ground, “i still have a job to finish.”

you nod, understanding, “don't worry, this is only protocol for ‘humane’ tampering, i don't want you to experience any type of ‘pain’.”

he scoffs at your obvious choice of words, beating around the bush to even call him anything remotely human. nonetheless he nods and that gives you all the confirmation you need before you lower the operating table so you could plug the large charger that's gonna be attached to his back.

“hang tight cyborg, you'll be awake in a few.”

-

"testing, testing-" you say aloud as you wait for boothill to respond. his eyes open first, then he twitches his fingers- the mechanic whirring of his body was steadily optimizing as you wait for an open response.

"a..am i fixed?" boothill groans as he suddenly feels his head spinning, his mind blank as he tries to look around with his eyeballs- although he feels as if they've been ripped from their sockets.

"welcome back to the human world!" you say with enthusiasm- and boothill feels like ripping his ears from his head.

"get me outta this thing," he tries to sit up, but the heavy charger plug prevents him from moving, and his back stays flat on the table.

he picks up another voice in the room- his ears alert as he hears you talk to someone, "quite the specimen.." incoherent mumbling in the distance that he couldn't make into a full sentence.

"don't move," boothill hears you shuffling toward him now, your white coat finally in his peripheral vision as you remove the holter monitor that stuck on his face, "you're immobilized," your face is now in front of his, your body blocking out the blinding light of the artificial lamp. "for now at least."

"when are you gonna release me." boothill demands, the crack in his voice goes noticable by you- but you remain stoic, or rather, professional.

"shh..m’ busy with an invigilator right now, i'll release you once he leaves. he's kind of a big shot, so it'll take a while. you finally show some emotion with a small, genuine frown. "trust me, it'll be over soon."

"oh fuck you. didn't i say i had somewhere to be?" he whisper-yelled at you, the computers behind him that recorded his current emotion state has increased.

you were taken aback by his sudden change of demeanor, but it didn't phase you as you gave him a knowing look.

"feel different yet?" the question made his eyebrow raise, although he seemed to realize it a second later as he gasps in shock.

"d-did i just.. CUSS? OUT LOUD? DID I JUST SAY FUCK- OH MY FUCK- SON OF A BITCH! THAT WAS ME WASN'T IT?" boothill laughs in disbelief, his grumble echoes in the laboratory.

you smile proud, "oh yeah," you pretend to think thoughtfully, "i fixed your synesthesia beacon just ‘cause." you shrug.

"yer not so useless after all." boothill praises, sending a once in a lifetime smile your way.

you roll your eyes- "maybe..shut up?" it was heartfelt though.

[ruvviks]

PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS YOUR OWN OC OR PAIRING.

Nathan and Ruben share a bond more powerful than most; mutual understanding through past experiences no one should ever have to go through, and through past actions so horrible they cannot be spoken of. Their grief and the blood on their hands binds them to the STEM technology they created, which has alienated them from the rest of the world— but they give each other the comfort they have both longed for so desperately for years, and that is all they need. They are each other's counterpart; you cannot imagine one without the other, like two sides of the same coin. Through their pain, their grief, their desire, and their regret, they have become one.

anna akhmatova, the guest // bones; equinox // 'i won't become' by kim jakobsson // agustín gómez-arcos, the carnivorous lamb // by oxy // achilles come down; gang of youths // czeslaw milosz, from 'new and collected poems: 1931-2001' // 'extended ambience portrait from a resonant biostructure' and 'migraine tenfold times ten' by daniel vega // a little death; the neighbourhood // marina tsvetaeva, from 'poem of the end' // by drummnist // katie maria, winter // 'nocturne in black and gold the falling rocket' by james abbott mcneill whistler // micah nemerever, these violent delights // body language; we are fury // 'the penitent' by emil melmoth // chelsea dingman, from 'of those who can't afford to be gentle'

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[blackmosscupcakes]

While I'm on the subject of Bells Hells' reactions to the events of last episode, I'm extremely interested in what's going to happen with Ashton. After all, only DAYS ago in-game, Ashton had their own mishap that resulted in the whole party being furious with them to varying degrees. And C3E78, their apology tour for that event, came with plenty of statements and promises on their part that have an awful lot of relevance to current events.

Ashton has always shown a high degree of awareness that this is a group teetering on the edge of darkness at any given time. His apologies in episode 78 tend to be loaded with assurances that he will forgive the others when it's their turn to make mistakes just as he hopes they will forgive him. Here's what he said to Chetney:

TALIESIN: Well, I'm glad you stopped. And I don't know, I'm processing a lot right now, but if I do stay, if you let me stay, the day something happens and it goes bad for you and you hurt a lot of people because, for any reason somebody gets in your head, something bad happens, something pushes you over the edge, something just fucking stupid. Stay or go, I promise that I will stick around, help clean it up. You will get no shit from me. None.

And here's what they said specifically to Laudna when she confronted them:

TALIESIN: I will, no matter what we do, no matter what mistakes we make, no matter what we have, I will stay and I will be there and I will not-- I will not walk away. I don't know what love is, but I'm going with this.

And they seem to be sticking to that promise! At the end of last episode they were very strongly by her side. He clearly sees (understandably, given his past) the act of sticking with someone no matter what to be one of the highest expressions of love. But sticking by someone doesn't mean signing off on all of their behaviour unchallenged, either. I also think it's relevant to look at what was in his mind when Imogen tried to read it:

TALIESIN: I think I've seen a pattern in my life and I've-- I'm going to just describe it instead of-- Just the realization of hubris and temptation and blame and this sudden realization of this epiphany of violent levels of projecting responsibility. Just this very wide thought of so many moments in life of not being responsible for what happened and suddenly going through that one by one of just, it took one week of vaguely knowing where I came from, and the only thing I really knew about these people was that they fucked up in this very particular way and it took me one week to do the exact fucking same thing. Because I was so desperate to have it and so desperate to have something that I lost so that I could be mad at someone for taking it.

They immediately took a step back and saw their responsibility for the way in which they hurt their friends, and so they expressed regret and apologies for that. He also saw how his actions were a way of reflecting his hurt back out into the world in the same way he was hurt. His father failed him, and his pain and trauma led him down the path of making a very similar mistake. I suspect all of this was on his mind in that moment where he took Laudna by the shoulder and whispered to her that she should start with an apology. They were hoping she would respond to it with that same introspection, but unfortunately a few things--not the least of which being Delilah--are in the way of that.

The question is what does he do next? He made a promise to walk beside, but (as I said above) that isn't necessarily a promise to unilaterally co-sign all of someone's actions, and I'd like to see a step forward in which Ashton uses their experience with the shard and what happened after to perhaps try and further encourage Laudna to make amends and communicate and come into the fold of the group instead of isolating herself. But I wonder if perhaps they do not feel that they have the right to say anything negative to her at all only days after the shard incident. But how does one reconcile that with a group member who risks becoming genuinely dangerous to your other loved ones if she continues down the path she's on?

[olderthannetfic]

Recently noticed a ton of "booktok" people claiming that written smut is "just as bad as porn" and "affects the brain the exact same way as porn." I'm not even antiporn but any rational person can see why that's a ridiculous claim. The industries are vastly different (no one but the author is involved in written smut, so there's less room for abuse) and the stimuli are vastly different. Like porn addiction as a concept is dubious at best but videos and written text affect the brain in different ways. That feels very obvious to me. I can at least see the basis for porn addiction (but there's no good evidence for its existence). No babes, you cannot become addicted to books. Seriously, people are claiming that you're a porn addict if you read a lot of smut. & I've had several people tell me "you must be a porn addict because only an addict would defend porn [meaning smut in this context] so vehemently," which feels VERY fallacious to me but I don't know which fallacy in particular. I just...am I going insane? Shouldn't "porn addiction also includes written smut" be fucking plainly ridiculous, even to people who vehemently believe in porn addiction and people who vehemently don't?

--

I wonder how different the effect really is on, say, a person who imagines extremely vividly. I have a friend who can make herself nauseated just by thinking of food because as soon as she thinks of it, she tastes it as if she were eating it.

I don't find writing and video that different. When reading, I do often experience a playback in my head. I don't always imagine facial features clearly, but details of objects, layouts of settings, clothing, etc. will be photorealistic. The crummy production values of your average commercial porno aren't my thing, but that's not a fundamental property of the medium.

If we mean "addiction" like "thing people become obsessive about as an escape", books certainly count.

If we mean "wharrgarbl, how dare people have a sexuality?!" then any medium can count.

The fundamental flaws of the concept of porn addiction make it hard for me to agree with you.

--

But as for "Only a X would defend...", those are just cowardly weaklings who've never stood up for a real principle in their lives. Everyone with decent standards will sometimes have to stand up for things they personally dislike or don't care about.

[beskarandblasters]

Hell Was The Journey But It Brought Me Heaven

Part Five of Time, Wondrous Time

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3

Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.

Author’s note: Stay tuned until the end for a special announcement! 👀

Chapter summary: A rude awakening that ends with the sweetest reunion.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, made up fallout lore (I made up my own vault ok), angst, canon typical violence, restraints, blood, fingering, vaginal sex, irradiated creampie, pet names (sweetheart, good girl), praise kink, fluffy ending, use of RadAway, no use of y/n

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t put my best friend in an unsafe situation,” Reina says, unlocking the gate to the vault. 

“Right…”

“You just have to change into one of Vault-Tec’s jumpsuits beforehand.”

“Why?”

“It’s what everyone will wear in the vaults, frozen or not. We want to test how they hold up being frozen, how they react to the oils on our skin. That type of thing.”

“…I see.”

Something in your gut tells you this is a bad idea. You could turn back now and tell her that you changed your mind. But her hopefulness stops you from saying no, the desire to not want to disappoint your friend. She’s been working on this for months and she seems so proud of it, so sure that it’ll be vital to saving the world in the face of war. 

“So you’ll be compensated for your time after the trial is over,” she says as you descend lower into the vault. 

“Got it.” 

“And like I said before, you’ll be guaranteed a spot in the vaults should we ever need to use them… But I’d get you in one anyway, of course.”

“Thanks, Reina.”

She leads you into a bleak room, with copious racks of blue and yellow Vault-Tec jumpsuits. On the back of the suits, there’s a large zero in yellow writing. There’s a shelf of boots in the back of the room, along with a wall of lockers. 

“Find one that fits and then you can place all your stuff in one of the lockers. And make sure you grab a Pip Boy, okay? It goes on your left wrist.”

“What’s a Pip Boy again?”

You vaguely remember seeing an ad where they were mentioned but don’t remember any details. 

“They’re on the shelf next to the boots. We just want to test how they hold up when frozen.”

…She didn’t answer your question but okay. 

“Alright. Thanks,” you nod, starting to get undressed as she opens the door. 

You slip on the suit and find that it’s slightly uncomfortable. But at least you’ll be unconscious the entire time you have to wear it. You find a pair of boots in your size and slide a Pip Boy on your wrist. You still don’t really understand what it is. From what you can tell, it’s just a thick silver cuff with a black and green display on the screen. It asks you to register your information so you do so, figuring it’ll be important for the trial. 

But once you’ve changed, you meet her in the hallway, anxiously walking through the vault. She brings you to a room full of large silver cylinders, a large glass panel in the middle of each of them. She opens the door to the first one, helping you get situated inside. Your nerves are shot, adrenaline coursing through your body. It’ll be painless, that’s for sure. But who’s to say you won’t come from this experience a changed person?

It doesn’t matter. It’s for the greater good. 

Now or never. 

“See you on the other side,” she smiles, sealing you inside. 

You do breathing exercises until everything fades to black. 

-

You’re ripped from your chamber, the sleepiness still settled in your limbs. Before your eyes can adjust to the light you’re thrown onto the floor, scrambling upright. Why would Reina or another Vault-Tec employee for that matter wake you up like this? 

You blink a few times and look at who’s standing before you– two men and a woman, dirty, wearing ragged, worn clothing. The two men grab you by your upper arms and force you to stand up. 

“Do you work for Vault-Tec?” you ask, utterly confused. 

They share a laugh, exchanging menacing smiles with each other. 

“I don’t understand. I’m part of an experiment for Vault-Tec. I was just supposed to be frozen for a few days for a thousand dollars cash and a guaranteed spot in the vault.” 

“Oh, you got a spot in the vault alright. Bring her to the surface, boys,” the woman says. 

“Who are you people? Where’s Reina?”

“If you don’t stop yapping, we’ll gag you,” the woman says, rolling her eyes as you’re forced to head up to the surface. 

As you walk through the vault you notice the place is trashed. Blood is smeared on the floor, all over the walls. Dead bodies litter the place, all donning the same jumpsuit you’re wearing. The fear surges through your body, your legs threatening to give out underneath you. If it weren’t for the men holding you upright you would’ve collapsed by now, the fear and shock finally settling it. 

How long were you frozen? Where’s Reina? Who are these people and where are they taking you? Why is this place full of dead bodies?

The harsh sunlight on the surface stings your eyes. You glance around once your eyes get adjusted and find that the surface is… different to say the least. It’s a barren wasteland, void of any life, except for the group of people standing near the prisoners. A band of people, similar in appearance to the ones escorting you; rugged attire, faces affected by the harsh climate, and dirty. But as for the prisoners, they’re dressed like you; blue and yellow jumpsuits, boots, a Pip Boy on their wrists, a big zero on their backs. 

You’re forced to your knees, in front of the group of prisoners. Your wrists are bound together with rope. You look around you, hoping to recognize someone. But it isn’t until they bring up the last prisoner that you see a familiar face; Reina. 

She’s placed beside you, staring straight ahead of her and not daring to glance in your direction. The group of… raiders stand before you, arms folded, menacing smiles on their faces, and covered head to toe in weapons. They outnumber you. They’re a group of at least ten compared to your group of five. A woman who seems to be their leader starts speaking first. 

“I’m sure you’re all feeling lost right now… Let me summarize the past two hundred years for you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. The weight of reality threatens to come crashing down on you. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to run. But for the sake of learning what’s been going on for the past… two hundred years, you listen to the strange woman. 

“Those of you who signed up to be a part of Vault-Tec’s little experiment… They failed you. They forgot about you long before the bombs dropped, before the war even started.” 

She paces back and forth, hands behind her back as she continues. 

“And now thanks to us, you've awoken from your eternal slumber. So, to repay us, you’ll be living as our servants.”

You feel like you’re gonna be sick, nausea washes over you as the wind whips your face. The weight of reality threatens to crush you, an overwhelming sense of hopelessness on the brink of swallowing you whole. Your ears start ringing and everything around you turns to white noise. You’re forced upright and placed into a single file line. The group of raiders surround you, guns drawn to prevent anyone from trying to break away. Reina’s in front of you. You have to ask her for more clarity. But maybe once your anxiety subsides. 

Your mind is swirling with questions. 

War. Bombs. Vaults. Your family. Your friends. 

Cooper. 

You can't process that it’s been two hundred years since that fateful night Reina locked you in the freezer. Your mind refuses to accept it. But as you walk through the wasteland, you slowly work up the courage to confront her. 

“Did you know?” you say suddenly. 

“Did I know what?”

“That they were just going to forget about me for two hundred plus years.”

“…Yes.”

“Quiet!” one of the male raiders shouts. 

But you don’t listen. 

“I should’ve known better. Cooper always talked about how shady Vault-Tec was,” you mutter to yourself. 

“Cooper?”

Fuck. 

“Do you mean Cooper Howard?”

“Uhh…”

“I said quiet!” the raider shouts again. 

“If I’m telling the truth right now then so are you.”

“He would just tell me about how his wife worked there and how the company seemed to have suspicious motives.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then what are you asking?” you retort, scoffing at her audacity to even be demanding answers from you right now. You fucked a married man. She locked her best friend in a freezer for two hundred years and yet she’s the one acting like you committed a heinous crime.

“Under what circumstances did he tell you all this?”

“After we slept together,” you say smugly. 

You expect to get yelled at again but instead, another raider chimes in. 

“You slept with The Man From Deadhorse?”

“How long?” Reina asks. 

“Not that it’s anybody's business, but from when I started on the film up until the day of the premiere.” You wanted to rub it in her face. She had been single at the time, bemoaning the fact to you whenever you hung out.

“So you were sleeping with him until about two days before you entered the vault?”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the fucking point. You need to tell me everything you know now.”

“Vault Zero was originally an experiment to see how long the body could last in a cryogenic freezer.”

“You told me it would be a couple of days.”

“I lied.”

“But… why? We were friends. Why would you do this to me?” 

“They were pressuring me to find test subjects.”

“What made you ask me? Did I just mean nothing to you?”

She doesn’t answer, continuing forward but you press further. 

“What about you? How did you get thrown in there?”

“Against my will. They were short on test subjects and threw me in there a few days before the war started.”

“When did the war start?”

“…October.”

Ten months. Ten months before the war had even started, you were locked in that vault. 

Ten. Months.

Two hundred years and ten months.

You fight the urge to cry, instead opening your mouth to fire a retort back at her. But the raider walking beside you shoves you with the barrel of his gun. 

“Gossip time is over,” he grunts. 

But now that you think about it, you don’t have anything to say to her. 

-

You walk for what feels like hours upon hours. The rope on your wrists irritates your skin and you want nothing more than to rip it off you and run as fast as you can. But on second thought, you know you wouldn’t last an hour in the wild on your own. There’s so much you have to learn about the world again. It’s overwhelming, thinking about what’s changed over the past two centuries. You’re left wondering what became of your home, what became of your family and friends, what became of Cooper. 

But for that, you feel fucking stupid. Your affair ended months before the war started. Who knows what has transpired in life since then? He could’ve patched things up with Barb. He could’ve moved on and forgotten all about you. He could’ve found another young production assistant to spend his nights with. 

Maybe he thought about you in your absence. Maybe he asked Emil about where you went. Maybe he stayed up late at night, thinking about what could’ve been. 

Probably not. 

Suddenly you wish you were never pulled from the freezer. 

-

After what feels like forever, you arrive at the raider's base camp; a shanty town of tents and old cars. The place is littered with rubble, piles of old machinery, and oil drums. The raiders force you and the others on your knees again in a single-file row. The same woman as before paces back and forth before the group, hands behind her back like always, getting ready to tell you what’s expected of you as their new “slaves”. 

But then she stops, looking past the group and out into the distance. She draws her gun and points behind you in the distance. 

“Get outta here, you fucking shuffler.”

You try to look behind you but all you can see is the silhouette of a man, wearing a hat and a long ragged coat. 

“Not goin’ anywhere until I get what I’m after.” 

That voice. 

You hear the sound of a piece of paper unfolding, prompting the woman to say, “That’s not me.”

“Sure looks a whole lot like you.” You can tell by his voice that he’s smirking. 

Could it be? 

“You’re outta your mind if you think I’m going anywhere with you… At least not without a fight.”

She shoots at the mysterious man. The crackle of the gunshot rings through your ears, making you flinch. You try to crouch down lower to miss getting caught in the crossfire and shield one of your ears with your shoulder at least. But you expect him to be dead now, falling to the ground with blood pooling around him. 

But instead, he laughs. 

“Well… I was afraid you’d say that.”

Another gunshot. But not from the woman, from the man. 

She falls to the ground, gurgling blood in her throat and trying desperately to yell, “After him!”

The other raiders open fire, bullets flying all around you. Some of the new prisoners try to run, seizing the opportunity to make a mad dash. Some of them succeed, running far away into the wastelands. But some fail, getting hit by stray bullets and collapsing to the ground. You stay low, inching farther away and taking cover behind an oil drum. You listen as the gunfire rages on, people screaming and crying out in pain. 

You’re at war with yourself, part of you screaming, run far away from here. But the other part of you tells you to wait it out, let them all shoot each other to death, and loot their supplies after. You decide to listen to the latter voice instead. 

You peek out from behind the oil drum, watching as the man reloads his gun. You haven’t seen the front of him yet but you’re dying to see his face. That voice… God, it sounded so familiar. 

You return to center and close your eyes, hoping everything will stop soon. You’re not sure where Reina is, if she ran off, if she’s dead or alive. But to be honest, you don’t care. You’ve quickly learned one rule of the wasteland so far– do this shit alone. 

But eventually, the gunfire and the screams stop. You don’t open your eyes yet, listening intently for any signs of life. Footsteps creep near you and you freeze, hoping no one looks behind the oil drum. But it’s too late. 

“What do we have here?” 

That voice. 

You open your eyes and look at the strange man standing before you– rugged skin, no nose, no hair, tattered clothing, and hazel eyes. You’ve seen those eyes before. 

The man crouches down and reaches into his pocket for a switchblade. You flinch for a moment but realize he’s just cutting the rope around your wrists. Once your hands are free you soothe the irritated skin on your wrists, looking up at the man again. His gaze softens. And now that he’s closer to you, you can confirm that you’ve definitely seen those eyes before. 

“Cooper?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Cooper Howard, I’d recognize that voice anywhere,” you say, brushing your thumb over his textured cheek. “And those eyes.”

He closes his eyes and melts at your touch, placing a gloved hand over yours. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he whispers. 

“Me either… But I’m glad you found me.”

An overwhelming emotion washes over you and you can’t help but pull him into you, clutching onto him for dear life. You’re breaking down, letting the hot tears roll down your cheeks. 

“Cooper, I’m so scared.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he says, rubbing your back. “Let’s get you out of here,” he whispers, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

He helps you stand upright, snaking an arm around your waist as he leads you into the colony of tents. He brings you to one messily labeled “med” with spray paint. Inside there are a few stretchers and copious amounts of medical supplies lining the perimeter of the tent. He sets you down on a stretcher and kneels before you, inspecting you for any injuries. 

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head no.

“I promise I’ll explain everything to you, okay?”

“What happened to you?”

“Exposed to radiation, sweetheart.”

“And it turned you into-”

“A ghoul.”

A ghoul… You’re not sure what that means. Everything’s so confusing and overwhelming. 

He gets up and grabs a canteen of water, handing it to you as he sits on the stretcher beside you. 

“Are you… alone out here?” You ask after you take a sip. 

“...I am.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I still want you.”

“Sweetheart… trust me, you don’t.”

“But I do.”

“You don’t want to wake up next to this mug every morning.”

“Cooper, I’m still attracted to you now like I was back then. I’ve always loved you for more than your appearance. Plus… it was hot watching you kill all those bad guys,” you say, turning towards him. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” 

You lean forward and kiss him. It feels different but also the same simultaneously, caressing the face of your man, the new version of him. His hands roam your body, running along your outline in the jumpsuit. He pulls back and murmurs, “Let’s get you out of this fuckin’ suit.”

He moves off the stretcher and works to undress you, starting with your boots and working his way up. He unzips the top of your jumpsuit, helping you up so you can shimmy out of it, tossing the Pip Boy to the ground. And once your bra and underwear are off, you’re completely bare. 

You lie back down on the cot, legs spread apart as he gets situated in between your thighs. He tugs off his glove and spits into his hand, playing with your entrance. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. He inserts one finger inside you, curling it painstakingly slowly against your soft walls. His other hand gravitates to your breast, caressing the outline before traveling to your nipple. Your breath hitches as he takes it between his fingertips, working into a stiff peak before moving to the next one. 

“All these years later and you’re still just as desperate for me,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you shoot back with a shaky breath. “It’s only been like a couple of days for me.”

“You know I’m only teasin’, sweetheart. Love gettin’ you all worked up like this,” he says, adding a second finger. 

He makes a come here motion with his two fingers, curling them against your g-spot as you writhe against the stretcher. 

“Gonna cum, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you respond, voice high-pitched and dripping with arousal.

“Let me feel it,” he commands. 

With one last motion of his fingers, you cum around them, clenching and releasing them erratically. Your moans and the wet, squelching sounds of your cunt fill the tent, looking directly into his eyes as you cum. You roll your hips into his hand, riding out the remainder of your high. He pulls his hand from you when you’re done and brings it to his mouth, tasting your spend. 

“My good girl. So sweet,” he praises. 

He pulls his cock out of his pants and hovers above you, gathering more of your spend with his hand and spreading it on his cock. Another shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. God, you needed him. 

“Ready for me, sweetheart?” 

You nod and it’s then that he finally enters you, splitting you apart with his cock. Your moan gets caught in your throat as you get adjusted to his size, staring directly into his eyes again. He places his hands by either side of your head, thrusting in and out of you repeatedly. 

“Still feels just as good,” he says, jaw going slack as he watches your squirm underneath him. 

You’re past sentences, only responding in the form of whimpers. Your moans grow incessant as your pleasure builds, thanks to his cock sliding in and out of you. He slams his hips into you one final time and with that, you finally cum. Your cunt convulses as the muscles in your core contract and release, waves of pleasure surging through your body. Your moans are like music to his ears, a familiar sound he’ll never get sick of. He curses under his breath and before you know it he’s coming inside you. His cum paints your insides as his thrusts grow sloppy. You finish riding out your highs together, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. Eventually, his hips slow to a stop and he remains inside you, looking down at you with all of the love and admiration in the world. 

Maybe it’s the rush of hormones. Maybe it’s the past twenty-four hours making you emotional. Maybe it’s the weight of being reunited. But you’re reminded of how much you love him. And now that he’s finally yours you’re not afraid to say it.

“Cooper?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you blurt out, studying his face for his reaction. 

But he just smiles and says, “I love you, too.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft and gentle before trailing kisses down your jawline. 

You feel his cum leak out of you and remember he came inside you for once. 

“I can’t believe you actually came inside me.”

“Speaking of that,” he groans, sliding off the stretcher and rummaging through the medical supplies. He grabs a clear bag filled with a brownish liquid, labeled with the word RadAway and an IV.

“You’re gonna need this, though.”

“What’s this?”

“Gets rid of the radiation I just released inside ya.”

You sigh and lean back on the stretcher, letting him hook you up to the medicine.

“What about like… pregnancy?”

“Ghouls are sterile,” he chuckles. “You got a lot to learn about the world, sweetheart.”

“I know… But at least I get to do it with you.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

End note: I would say that we reached the end for these two but that’s not entirely true! I’ve decided to write a series of one off stories about Cooper showing the Reader the ways of the wasteland! The new loose fit series will be called With You By My Side! I just want to thank @clawdee for being my rock throughout this series, for beta reading these chapters at an incredible rate for y’all, and always being there to bounce around ideas with me! And I want to thank all of you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. I feel so lucky I get to share this story with y’all! I hope you’ll catch up with these two in With You By My Side 🤍

If you like my work, consider supporting me on Ko-fi 🤍

Check out the series playlist! 🎶

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag list: @widowmakerow @bisasterbisexual @wowitsem @vegetarianvamp @celestial-vomit @ghoulsimper @anyzandy @justfoxymuffins @hobnob2020 @fallout-girl219 @ipostwhtifeel @awhoresjourney @chiyo13 @valkyreally @ivyinthesun

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT Day 1: First Pages

I was told I should write down my experiences in this journal. I'm only really doing this because I was told I didn't have to share my writings with anyone except for emergencies, whatever that means. Today is the first day of my new life, and becoming something not human anymore.

I've seen a lot of social media about species HRT. I think it’s supposed to be “Human Removal Therapy”. There’s a lot of people online bashing it, and I'm sure someone is going to try and ban it eventually, but for right now it's pretty unrestricted. To be honest, I am fascinated by it. Becoming something inhuman seemed so, I don't know, cool I guess, but it felt distant, like it would never happen to me, or I'd be labeled a freak by my friends. It was only until my girlfriend brought it up in a passing conversation that I gained the courage to admit I was curious about it. She said I should go for it. The amount of joy I felt then and there was like a 20 ton weight had just exploded out of my chest, but in a good way! We spent the rest of the night talking about treatments and articles, I never felt so happy except then and there, to be seen like that.

My legs were shaking when I met with that doctor. I was told it was normal to be nervous, but it really felt like I was going to just have a breakdown the entire time we talked. There was a lot of psychological exams and way, WAY too much paperwork that basically said I was sure I would be happy and cool with going through with this process. The doctor was patient at least, though he was rude with how little he tried to hide the boredom of his job. Besides that, there was something about him that just made him feel like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the kind of man who’s a total pushover. We eventually got to the question I was dreading “what was I here for, what am I looking to be?” My voice just suddenly stop working right there. It's so funny how I saw an actual dragon on my way here and somehow my request seemed so much more ridiculous. That stupid doctor kept prying me to just tell him until my frustration surpassed my anxiety, and I was able to blurt out that I wanted to be a slime.

I don't know when or why, but I've always liked the idea of slimes. It's their fluidity I think. Being able to morph myself the way I want whenever I want. I mean, how can I trust I'll be happy with my body shape everyday when I can't even pick a favorite color. I spent so much time writing out my own ideas of how their biology worked, or creating a bunch of slime girls for stories I never finished writing. It took me a while to realize I wanted to be just like them, like how it took me a while to realize I wanted to be a girl too.

I thought I'd get laughed out of his office, I mean I've seen the photos and stories of people on slime HRT but it just felt different, like I was going one step too far, I was probably just super anxious, I felt so relieved when he just showed me a list of slime variants instead of laughing. There were so many different options on the list, slimes made of just gel, sap, wax, and there were so many different colors, but that was the problem, they all felt right, I wanted to be any of them.

It was so selfish to ask, but I needed to know if a slime that could change color was possible, or something that could truly transform into any kind of slime. He asked what I meant, if I was looking into becoming a shapeshifter. I shook my head no and said I wanted something like a chameleon. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, like the weight of every request he ever had just hit him. We, kind of, argued for a while. Well it was him telling me all the different reasons it wouldn’t work or how some people had set up safe LED strips to become a slime strobe globe of different colors, but for some reason it was the one thing I didn’t want to budge on. The one thing I was certain I wanted was that I wouldn’t be certain about my final choice. I was actually ready to just punch this old man until he suddenly folded to my demands and told me he'd need time to make a new variant for something like that. Something about a membrane and chromatophores I think. He also stated, bluntly, that I still needed to pick the type of slime. Being able to switch from red to blue is one thing but there needs to be a base. 

There were a lot of good options, to the point it took me an hour to go through everything and just think about it. I was probably pushing him a bit too close to his next appointment with how long I was searching through options. It certainly makes me wonder how anyone can just know the answer right away. Eventually I had to settle on one and chose the soap variant. I was told it wasn’t actual soap, but it smelled nice and helped deal with germs. I’m not a germaphobe but I like the idea of smelling nice all the time.

After that, I was told I would be contacted eventually when my medication was ready. The wait could be best be described as brutal. There were a lot of calls I made only for me to be told it wasn’t ready yet. I thought I got scammed, like I went to the wrong place and that quack doctor was just faking everything and I wouldn't ever get to be the real me. The most I got was a message once a month saying the research was going well, if I was lucky. 

It was about a year when I got a call back from him, explaining that my medication was ready. I'll be honest, I thought he wouldn't have ever completed it and just stole $600 out of my bank account for a single appointment. I have it now though, a bottle of gel capsules. They taste awful, like shoving soap into my mouth, which makes sense thinking about it. Apparently I won't need to take my normal hormone medication after a bit. Which is good because it's really expensive to pay for both. I guess that concludes my thoughts on the first day. The doc wants me to keep writing down my physical changes but also that I write down my emotional state as well. I don't really get why that’s so important, but whatever, it’s the least I can do if I finally get to be the slime girl I always wanted to be. I can't wait to see how I turn out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading through this story. While I’m sure it’s obvious, this is a story inspired by @ayviedoesthings own Dragon HRT as well as @welldrawnfish Fish HRT. I’ve loved these stories ever since they first came out. But I never felt like I had a story of my own to write until I read @sandyca5tle own slime HRT. Please check out all these people’s stories if you haven’t already, and thank you to sandyca5tle for really lighting the fire in me that made me want to try my hand at this sort of thing. I have plans to continue this for a while, not sure how long it’ll be but I want to be able to write a new segment at least one post every one to two weeks. I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you have any advice on how to improve my writing. Thank you so much for reading all this, seriously, it means the world to me. 

[dead-enby-detective]

To continue my comparison of the Dead Boy Detective show and the Doom Patrol episode with them in it, I wanted to talk about the exploration of Charles’s aversion/fear of water in Doom Patrol, I thought that was an interesting way to give him some more depth in the short time frame (especially since we get to see more of Edwin’s depth with his pain being used to open the door to the afterlife and Larry reaching out to him to discuss his feelings for Charles).

In the scene above Charles has to work himself up quite a bit in order to cross the lake and continue their case.

DBD Charles, in comparison, doesn’t seem to feel the same way about water.

In episode 2, he’s delighted by the enchanted ocean container.

In episode four, he even calls the view “pretty brills” while staring out into the ocean.

He doesn’t hesitate to run to Crystal when she’s dangling over the ocean.

He walks on the ocean side later (probably partially to ensure she doesn’t try to throw herself into the ocean) and even walks toward the water without any fear.

And when the Night Nurse has him relive his memories she sends him to the lake.

To me he seems more confused, maybe frightened because he doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on and than is far more scared when he gets attacked by the boys again rather than afraid of the water itself.

Then after the Night Nurse lectures him he’s angry,

and willing submerges himself to get away.

Then when he returns he, in his anger, sends her over the wall into the water.

To me, if he was afraid of the water, he’d be less likely to want to go towards it, or he’d at least hesitate before putting his plan into motion.

In my first post comparing and contrasting the Agency from the two show, I said the Doom Patrol Boys feel far less reactive to violence, especially their own. They doesn’t seem scared of it or using it themselves. But while DP Charles isn’t afraid of violence, though it did cause his death, he is afraid of water, which also played a role in his death.

In the DBD show Charles is scared of violence (especially his own) - as violence impacted him greatly in live with his abusive father and bullies but doesn’t seem to be of the water which also played a part in his death.

It’s very interesting to me which parts of his death the writers focused on for each show, the DP writers focused on the water/hypothermia and the DBD writers, the bullies.

As I said in my first post, obviously there’s far less time to explore the boys in the Doom Patrol episode than in the Dead Boy Detectives show so that absolutely could have been part of it.

I haven’t yet read the comics so I’m unsure which version of Charles’s fears is more accurate to the source material, if there’s an exploration of it at all.

It makes sense, in the Doom Patrol episode to show his fear of water. It naturally introduces his death, just as the door to the afterlife being opened by open naturally introduces Edwin’s experience in Hell.

The actor handles it really well. Just as the DBD actor handles his fear of violence really well. Both feel natural and important within the context of their shows.

Additionally, I tired looking up to see if Charles’s father was also abusive in the comics and I couldn’t find anything (please let me know if you know otherwise) and according to his wiki Charles actually died from burn injuries - though he did have to spent time in the icy lake as well.

So it’s definitely interesting that both shows focused on the hypothermia from the lake rather than the burns and it makes sense that if there’s isn’t a major storyline about his father in the comics that DP Charles has less negative feelings about violence than DBD Charles and thus, going back to my first post, reacts differently to it even though he too was bullied to death.

It’s incredibly interesting to me to see how the same character can be played/written in two very different ways based off the same source material and the ways the writers chose to focus on their traumas and fear differently.

What do you all think about how the shows chose to handle Charles’s fears?

[blackopals-world]

Character Profile: Merlyn Leech

Nurse!Yuu x Floyd Leech child oc

This is a continuation of this post so this is a part 2.

Regent Hunt, Molly Schoenheit , Jojo and Koko Trappola , Nuru Kingscholar , Nephos Leech, Baishan Bucchi

Dorm: Octavinelle

Age: 17

Birthday: July 22(Cancer)

Club: Chemistry club

Best Subject: Biology

Hobbies: Unethical research, also leech keeping

Pet Peeves: dirty equipment and uncooperativeness

Favorite Food: Blood sausage

Least Favorite Food: burnt meat

Talent: Making drinks

Appearance: Merlyn is tall at over 6'4". He has dark purple hair with black locks that fall around his ears. He keeps his hair slicked back. Merlyn had one amber eye and one stormy grey eye. Despite first glance, Merlyn has a muscular but lean build. He wears several sets of glasses that he switches daily. His eel form has black and black-and-white mottled pattern like a snowflake moray eel.

Personality: Merlyn is unsettling. It's a natural instinct to be wary of predators. His smile is just as threatening as his father's and uncle. Merlyn is genius and curious about how humans work. He has a desire to take them apart and put them back together. He can be a bit patronizing to patients. He knows what he likes and if it's not you expect to be a test subject, If he does like you are still a test subject. He makes everyone around shiver. Everything around him is for exploration and entertainment. He is described as a back ally doctor who would sell your organs.

Story: Merlyn was Floyd Leech's son. There was never a chance he would be normal. Yuu accepted that and approached their parenting as a long-term study. Merlyn was constantly examined from birth for any defects and delays. Merlyn loved Yuu and had none for his father. He was Yuu's perfect little experiment and would not share the attention. Naturally, Merlyn believes studying people is a form of affection and a good way to learn the weaknesses of his patients. It's all the same really.

Merlyn had no choice but to interact with his cousin Nephos. He didn't like Nephos. The constant mood swings and crying drow him nuts so he chooses to study him instead.

Working under Violetta was an odd choice for the usually non-compliant Merlyn but Violetta had a good deal for him. He gets test subjects as long as he does her dirty work. He didn't even argue. He works as the bartender and keeps nosy people from entering the back room. He knows that Violetta is running a gambling ring and keeps people quiet. He also gets to collect debts for her.

Merlyn just wants to raise his medical leeches, do his unethical experiments, and be left alone in his lab. As long as he isn't bored life can me peaceful.

Extra Notes:

It's often said that Nephos is more like Floyd and Merlyn is more like Jade.

Don't let Merlyn develop a crush on you. Unless you have a doctor or degradation kink. Then still don't.

He feeds his leeches blood from people he likes

He is actually a good doctor and can patch up anyone quickly

If you ask him what he's doing he has a really creepy smile.

"Don't be such a baby. It's only a little bit of blood."

"Ah ah ah. No biting~"

"I love the ones that fight. Now breathe in deeply and count back from 10. Goodnight~"

"Has my little Violet come to visit my lowly office again? What needs disposing of this time?"

"Nephos stop crying I'm not going to take your finger, it needs a bandaid. If you leave another puddle of tears I'll remove your tear ducts."

[arcadekitten]

do you have any scene or emo characters? harajuku? decora anything? y2k (specifically chinese y2k)? or anything alt???

i mean if you play cemetery mary most of the main characters are a bunch of goth/emo guys anywaysssssss

If we are referring to what we in the real world would typically describe as alt then yes I do! (I've yet to work out if all alternative fashions here are still considered alternative to the same degree in Noisrev) Mary is goth, and specifically babydoll goth! However I will sometimes draw her in other goth styles (such as gothic lolita or pastel goth) or with other lightly gothic touches. And sometimes I just feel like putting her in cute clothes or to match a certain theme, but her main style of dress is primarily gothic/babydoll gothic.

Crowven's usual style is definitely closer to emo/scenemo. I definitely lean towards calling him emo though since the only color he usually uses in his stylings is red.

I'm not sure how I'd describe Theo's fashion but if I had to put it anywhere with my vocabulary I would call it very lightly punk. (at least when he's allowed to dress for himself)

While her appearances in my games are more toned down, I would definitely say Zapara is the closest canon scene girl we have. I have drawn her more scene before (pictured below) and I would definitely say she leans more in the style of classic scene rather than modern present-day scene styles. (also c'mon. She's a wolf girl. She has to be)

Angel who appears in Blackout Hospital is a white goth. So goths, but with primarily whites instead of blacks.

Necrotary is something of a baby bat to me, both figuratively and literally. And as you can see when she grows up her style is not quite as cohesive as traditional goth styles but it does take lots of gothic influences!

I hope I can experiment more with other heavier alternative styles in my characters (especially since these were all generally dark-leaning and alt styles can be bright and fun and colorful too!) and I'm excited to make more eventually too!!

[lamoobsessions]

Ideal Date

Celebrity AU: Hazel Callahan x (fem)Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: no use of y/n, very breif mentions of sex, unwanted touch (just wrist grabbing), Hazel is kind of a loser.

A/N: Very loosely inspired by the song 'boyfrined,' by Dove Cameron. I say loosely because the song's essence isn't really there, you know what I mean? It's more of a idiots in love vibe, than anything. Anyway, this is my first Hazel fic, so I hoped I captured her character well 🙏

· ─────────── ·

The idea of a gala is a lot more exciting than the execution, or at least, that’s what Hazel was beginning to think. There isn’t much to do, aside form eat food, down a few drinks, and participate in some auction; which, come to think of it, she has no idea what this gala is fundraising. Whatever organziation sponsored the event, Hazel didn’t know it. She probably should, but she simply didn’t check the invite. The moment she heard you’d be here, there was no second thought about it, she was going. And at first she was excited. 

It’s an indoor event, held in some big extravagant ballroom with shiny marble floors and dazzling chandeliers. The food is terrific, the drinks are delicious, and the DJ must have rent to pay because they were playing all the right songs. It was all going so well.

 But then you showed up with him, James Watsky, your annoyingly handsom co-star in some new upcoming action movie -She didn’t know the details of it, once there were rumors of a scandalous sex scene in the film, she never botherd looking into it too much. All she knew was that you looked great in the trailers. Your hair pinned up high, your shorts cut low, your tank top dirty with grime, and your plush lips bloodied and busted, how could someone pull off a look like that so well? As many other celebrities have experienced, there was a rumor you sold your soul for the fame, and as much as Hazel believed those rumors were only made to take away the credit from a woman’s success, she was beginning to think maybe you did. But not for the fame, but for beauty. In her eyes, it was unreal, a celestial-like beauty. 

Not only were you beautiful, but you were a joy to be around. 

The first time Hazel had the privilege of working with you was when she helped co-write for an episode of a sitcom series you had a part in. It was during the first uptick of your career, so the producers finally let you direct an episode yourself. Having no experience in screenwriting, you were sent to Hazel for help. Together, the two of you made one of the most beloved episodes of the whole series. 

The second time Hazel had the privilege of working with you was just after the series finale, and the contract tying you down to the series was terminated. To her delight, you called her up that same day and asked if she wanted to produce a movie with you -On the one condition that she starred in it with you. She agreed, though hesitantly at first. Hazel didn’t know if she’d like the spotlight. Sitting behind the scenes, re-writing dialogue, and tweaking a few storylines was more her pace. At least, that’s what she thought at first, til you came along and showed her her full potential. You were one of the few people in Hazel’s life to actually believe in her work. 

And that movie changed everything. 

She started booking more writing gigs, more acting gigs, more interviews. At first it was overwhelming, but it grew on her, and with that grew your friendship. The public loved it, the press loved it, casting crews loved it. It was a win-win all around, but Hazel wanted more. And just as she began to realize that, this whole action movie came up and took away most of your time. 

The two of you have rarely talked since, only on rare occasions like these -immense, pretentious, and excessive events that drained her social battery the second she walked through the door. 

But you were here, and it’s been three years since you’ve started that movie (production was a bitch). Now, it felt as if you were out of reach, like she was back at square one, watching the celebrity she admired most as a mere fan.

Hazel didn’t think it would hurt so much seeing you here. She missed you more than she thought she did. You in your long, satin dress that hugged your waist so well. You wearing that annoyingly infectious smile that never seemed to die down. You with your graciously pinned up hair that she was sure would be the softest thing she could ever touch.  

And still, even with your classic beauty and genial personality, you showed up with him. The douches of all douches. It hurt her to see you with him. It ached her to see you sat with your arm linked with his, as you sipped your cocktail with a smile.

Actually, it was beginning to annoy her. Why him? You could do so much better than him. Why did it have to him, of all people? What did he offer? What did he have that she didn’t? She could be a better gentleman than him, Hazel was sure of that. 

No, she wasn’t sad anymore, she was angry. Whether it be at herself for not making a move sooner, or at him from stealing you from her, or at you for being with someone like him. It didn’t matter who exactly she was mad at, all that mattered was that she was pissed. Even more pissed when she noticed your date grabbing your wrist. 

You and him were at one of the formal tables, your chairs faceing the dance floor, as he desperately tried to pull you off your seat, presumably for a dance. You seemed steadfast in your decision to stay put. But still, he didn’t relent, he tugged and pulled, as his face grew warmer with frustration. You were just as stubborn, shaking your head and trying to keep your cool with an unsteadily calm expression. Finally, the man gave in, throwing his hands up in frustration, he stormed off. 

At first, Hazel thought he was running off to get a drink, but no, he was leaving. Full-on exiting the gala. In a matter of seconds he brushed past Hazel’s shoulder, and walked out the door. All of it because you wouldn’t dance with him.

Averting her attention back to you, you seemed almost unfazed. Your eyes glued to your phone as you pressed rapidly against the screen. Okay, maybe you weren’t unfazed, you looked just as pissed as Hazel felt moments ago. 

She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she approach you? Is it even her place to try to comfort you? The two of you weren’t even that kind of close anymore, would you find it too up-front? 

You were upset, that much was obvious, and Hazel wanted to fix that, fix your friendship. It didn’t matter if it would escalates into more, she just wanted her best friend back. 

It took two shots of tequila to do it, but she finally stepped in your direction and made her way toward your table. You were still typing away at your phone, too much in a world of your own to notice Hazel right in front of you. 

“Rough night?” she asked, immdeianlty pulling in your attention.

“Oh my god, Hazel,” your expression switched, a smile now beaming from your lips. It made her want to melt on the spot. “It’s so good to see you. I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Yeah?”

You hum, nodding happily, as you pat the seat next to you, to which Hazel obliged. “I’m sorry we haven’t talked much. I’ve been meaning to reach out, but you know… work stuff.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I haven’t been reaching out much either, so…”

“Well, let’s not let it happen again, yeah? You’re like… one of the very few people in this industry I actually like.”

Hazel bites back a smile, hoping to prevent it from growing any bigger. It was becoming more and more evident as each moment passed, none of the feelings she felt for you before have diminished. Even after all this time, everything still felt so fresh. She still loved you.

She just had no idea where she wanted this to go. It’s been three years since your friendship changed, yet she still felt the same way. She still felt those same flutters in her stomach. 

“I’m… really glad you’re here.” Your words sound much more soft, much more fervent than your previously chipper tone. “Honeslty, you’re the only reason I came.”

Hazel felt stunned for a moment. She didn’t want to read too much into your implications, it’s been a while since you two have gotten to talk one-on-one. But to hear your soft, sincere tone again was a lost treasure Hazel hadn’t known she lost. 

“I thought your date would be the reason you came.” she teases.

You huff a laugh, leaning into your seat. “No, he’s- uh… definitely not my ideal date.”

“Who’s your ideal date then?” Hazel didn’t know what she wanted in an answer. She didn’t know what to expect either. 

You turn to her with a shy grin plastered on your lips, one that Hazel couldn’t quite read. “It’s a secret.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you hum smugly. 

“If I guess right, will you tell me?”

“You’re not going to guess.”

“What if I do?”

“You’re not going to,”

“But what if?”

You narrow your eyes, brushing them over her expression, as if trying to determine something. You were so close, if Hazel just leaned in just a little, she could close the space between you two. It was tempting, very tempting. 

“Fine,” You resort, leaning back into your chair. “If you guess right, I’ll tell you.”

Hazel’s smile grows steadily, though she couldn’t be more nervous. Truthfully, she didn’t want to know your ideal date, because she knew it wouldn’t be her. But if this little game you two were playing would re-kindle your lost friendship, she’d do it. She’d do it all night if that’s what it took. 

Her eyes dart around the room, glancing over all the potential competitors. With her distraction, she hadn’t noticed your eyes glued to her, watching as she inspects the party.  

“Christopher,” She guesses.

“Which one? There are like fifty of them here.”

“Christopher Chapesky,”

“Nope,”

“Christopher Paulmer,”

“Nope,” 

“Christopher Liam.”

“Nope.”

“Is it any of the Chris's?”

“That’s cheating, you’ll elimanate half the party suggesting that name.”

“So, it isn’t any of them?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “No, you’re way off base.”

“So, you’re not into Chris’s. Got it.”

“I’m just not into egomaniacs.”

Hazel falls into the seat with a flail of her arms. “What? But that’s like, the whole party.”

You shrug, “There are a few gems.”

Finally, Hazel looks to you. Her deadpan expression immediately flips upon finding your gaze already on her. That same gentle, hazy expression, staring back at her, you felt so easy to subdue to. If she stared at you too long, she’d surely get lost. Time would become irrelevant, the world would stop spinning, nothing around her would be able to pull her back out. It’s a dangerous game she has herself in. Afraid to get too drawn in, she seeks refuge looking back to the crowd. 

“Do I at least know them?” She questions. 

A silence fills your end, there is no response.

Hazel, calls your name, to find you staring down at your hands, twisting and turning your rings nervously. Til, you snap out of your daze, meeting her questioning stare. “Sorry?”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh… yeah.” you nod. “You know them, pretty well actually.”

Hazel didn’t know many people at this gala. The people she did know, she only knew in passing. So, who else was here that she knew ‘pretty well’? 

“Okay…” Hazel sighs, wanting to give up. The game was turning into torment, no person she named would make her feel better. She wanted it to be her. 

“I told you, you’re not going to guess.”

“Yeah,” Hazel huffs, crossing her arms. “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”

“Always am,” You joke, nudging her side. 

She puts her tongue to her cheek, shaking her head disapprovingly. 

She didn’t know, but that look on her drove you crazy. Hazel never caught your longing glances, you were strategic with them -well, ususally. There were rare occasion where you were caught, but she never questioned them. 

Though, there’s something about her tonight. Her pristine fitting suit, her perfectly shaped hair, her sly, chasing tone. Mentally, you’ve mapped all her features. You admired them all the way from the moles on the back of her neck, to the small curvature in her nose. She was impossible not to stare at.

Your phone vibrated on the table, pulling you out of your prolonged glance. It was your manager. You exhale your disappointment. Nodding to Hazel to excuse you, as you accept the call. 

“Hey,” You greet with an even tone. 

Hazel saw the contact name, but she didn’t need to know it was your manager to sense your immediate discomfort. 

“He was being an ass and I wouldn’t take it, so he left.” You remark, as your leg began to tap up and down nervously by your chair. “I wasn’t going to tolerate it. He can’t just… I know, I’m sorry… well he shouldn’t have… no, I know… I know…”

She tried to listen to what your manager could be saying, but over all the music and the chattering commotion, it was near impossible. Whatever it was, she knew it had something to do with that James Watsky guy you were seeing. Why your manager cared, she didn’t know. 

“Look, i’m still at the gala, so I can’t really talk about it right now… well, he’s the one that left, I didn’t tell him to leave…I couldn’t have made him stay if I tried. It would’ve only made things worse…fine, that’s fine. Just…call me later, then… Okay, bye.”

You end the call, leaning your head back over the seat with a groan. 

“Everything okay?” Hazel asked. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You apologizde, grabbing your drink off the table to take a few swigs. “I hired a new manager recently, and he’s… kind of the worst honestly.”

“Why don’t you drop him?”

“I can’t. Signed a contract, I’m stuck with him til the end of the year.” 

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You say, a smile retuning to your lips. “He’ll probably drop me anyways, which isn’t a bad thing, cause that’s the only way I’ll probably get out this mess soon.”

Hazel could didn’t want to pry, knowing you probably didn’t want to talk about it. Not here, not now. You were at a gala after all, weren’t these things supposed to be fun? 

An idea popped into her head, one that could get your manager to drop you in an instant. She told herself it was solely for you, that there were no selfish intentions behind it. Though, she wasn’t fooling herself one bit. 

“Do you wanna dance?”

“What?” you asked with a smile. You heard her perfectly clear, but, admittedly, you wanted to hear her say it again. 

“Do you wanna dance?”

Suppressing an embarrassingly wide grin, you bit down your lips and nod. 

Hazel stands and holds out a hand, her sliver rings gleaming under the chandelier lights. In that moment, you really do wonder if looks can kill. 

Her hand is cold to the touch, as she guides you through the main floor. In your eyes, she couldn’t seem less nonchalant about it, but in reality, Hazel’s heart pounded in her ears. She never danced with anyone before, not in the way everyone else was dancing with their partners. The last time she checked the dance floor, the moves were loose, uncoordinated. No one danced with any sort of plan, they just moved. But now, step after step, they swayed with elegance in their every move. Slow, suave music carrying their motions. 

Hazel placed her hands on your waist, simultaneously steadying her tremble. Your hands met her shoulders, and finally, you could see through her calm facade.  

“You never slow dance before?” You ask with a subtle simper.

“No,” she laughs breathily. 

“that’s okay, I’ll lead.” You gently place your hand on hers, lifting it from your waist and interlocking your fingers. Hazel watches you intently, her eyes trailing from your hands, to your waist, to your lips, til finally, she meets your careful gaze. 

You begin to sway your hips, hoping to initiate some movement. Though, Hazel was enamored, nervous and stiff beyond repair. Her feet felt rooted to the floor, she hesitated before even thinking to move. Yet, with the gentle music and your attentive touch, she began to settle her stiff form, and follow your lead. With each slow step, left to right, front to back, you fall into form. 

Hazel and you have always walked a thin line between intimacy and amity. At times, it felt restraining, like you were stepping on egg shells around each other. But now, it felt like balancing on a tight rope, teetering with hitched breathes, as you sway side to side. 

There were moments you wanted to push her away, as if simply being around her felt like too much. But, in that same sense, you wanted to pull her closer. You wanted to pull her close and never let go. 

And Hazel couldn’t keep her eyes off you. You were intoxicating, especially in that dress. It made her want to inhale your very essence, like it was her oxygen. Bewitched, enthralled, fascinated, charmed, you name it. Hazel was all of the above. 

Moments pass, and not a single word has been uttered. There was a silent understanding that if anything was spoken, it would break the threshold. If this was intimate or platonic, that very concept would be revealed the moment either of you decided to speak. So, neither of you did. Instead, the both of you reveled in this small bubble of time, wishing it would never burst. 

Slowly, as the dance progressed, the two of you drifted closer. You found Hazel’s chest pressed to yours, and your chin tucked under her shoulder. In the back of your mind, you can see the nosey rumors, the catchy headlines, the snarky articles. Surely, your manager would drop you after this. But, in a freeing sort of way, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. None of that mattered, not when Hazel was finally back in your life. 

The past three years have been hell, though nothing in those recent years could top being with her. To be in her arms again felt liberating. Even now, you felt the same giddiness you felt the day you met her. It’s like you jumped right back to where you were before with eachother. Nothing had changed, not even the intense surge of adrenaline you got around her. That never left. 

“You know it was only a PR thing, right?” you say, feeling the sudden urge to inform her.

Hazel pulls back, her eyes looking down at you. “What?”

“James, he wasn’t a real date.”

“Oh,” the weight that had been sitting on Hazel’s shoulders since she saw you with him,  finally lifted.”Right, yeah, I knew that.”

She did not in fact know that.  

“I would never go out with someone like him,” you admit, hopelessly attempting to drop all the hints you could. “I mean, I would prefer not going out with men in the first place, so…”

Very briefly, her eys dart to your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You breath. Whenever she said stuff like that it made you feel like a giddy schoolgirl with a stupid crush. It was much more than that of course, but she made your stomach flip all the same. 

“So, your ideal date is a woman?”

“Precisely.”

“How long were you going to let me list off half the men in this room?” she laughs. 

“Well, I was pretty amused by it, so… forever maybe?”

She playfully rolls her eyes, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She dismisses. 

You don’t know when it happened, but Hazel had taken the lead, and suddenly, you were following her steps on the dance floor. 

“You really want to know who my Ideal date is?”

“I don’t know,” Hazel sighs, her demeanor suddenly switching. The idea of you wanting someone else devastated her. She felt nervous all over again. “Do I?”

“I think you do,” your voice is barely over a whisper, but Hazel still heard your words clearly, and that lifted her confidence just a little. “She’s sweet…charming…funny,” You list each factor, hoping your voice didn’t tremble as much as your hands did. “She has short, brown hair, soft blue eyes, a nice smile. She’s an okay dancer, I guess. But you know, she didn’t have the best teacher…”

The rest of the words get caught in the back of your throat, as Hazel’s hand untangles from yours, and meets your jaw instead. She had heard enough by then, and with her enraptured stare boring into yours, the gap between you two closed and your lips locked. A fit of sparks burst in your chest, as Hazel’s one hand on your waist tightens its grip, further deepening the kiss. It’s slow, soft, and gentle with each tug of her lips. 

You’re positive no durg or substance could ever achieve a high equivalent this one. Her mere touch made you feel impossibly lighter. 

“You’re my ideal date too, by the way.” She utters against your lips. 

“Good,” A light laughter escapes you, before you pulled her in once more. 

Her lips curved upward, as both her hands travel from your neck to you hair, tangling her fingers in the loose strands. She wasn’t sure where her body started and where yours ended. It felt as if you had consumed her whole, that the two of you are now of one being. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, never had she thought you would feel so good. 

She couldn’t believe she had at one point regretted coming here. She almost went home. But, god was she glad she didn’t, cause you were here, in her arms, kissing her. Hazel had changed her mind, maybe these gala things weren’t so bad. 

[calaisreno]

Under the Weather

There are days when everything goes wrong. I don't mind, as long as you're with me.

1731 words / Prompt: Weather

When John pushes the door open, he’s hit with a Baltic blast of air from within. This is surprising; it’s a cold day, but generally 221B is a bit warmer than outdoors. 

“What’s going on?” he asks the bundle of blankets on the sofa. 

“Not much,” Sherlock replies. “Lestrade called with a case. I solved it over the phone.”

John lets out a sigh; it becomes a small, vaporous cloud. “I mean, why is it so cold in here?”

“The temperature outdoors is minus seven degrees. In here, it is four degrees above zero. Eleven degrees warmer. You ought to be asking me, why is it so warm in here?”

“I mean,” John says, keeping his jacket buttoned and sinking into his chair, “Why is it bloody four degrees inside our flat?”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say that? The boiler’s broken.”

“Have you rung someone?”

The blanket bundle sighs. “Mrs Hudson is away, visiting her sister.” He’s using his patient voice, which means that John is going to have to shout if he wants an explanation. “I don’t know how to fix a boiler, and there’s no service tag on it, so I don’t know who to call.”

“You might have looked in the phone book. They do list people who fix boilers, you know.”

Sherlock waves a hand dismissively. The hand is wearing a purple mitten, which probably came from Mrs Hudson’s knitting basket. “This is 2010. Who uses phone books these days?”

“Maybe the internet knows who fixes boilers?”

Sherlock wags mittened hands at him. “Fingers frozen. Can’t type.”

“And all day you’ve been waiting here for me to come home and save you from freezing to death?”

The pile of blankets mumbles. 

“What?”

“I said, you’re better at dealing with boilers.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to call someone to fix a boiler, Sherlock.”

“Exactly.” A pair of grey eyes and a pink nose peep out of the blankets. “The electricity still works. Can you make tea? That might thaw my fingers.”

Cursing softly to himself, John fills the kettle. At least the pipes haven’t frozen, though that might be next. He sets it on the base, and flicks it on. The light remains unlit. “What did you do to the kettle?”

“Oh, erm. Why do you ask?”

“It’s not working.”

“It is a very old kettle. They don’t last forever, you know.”

“Oi!” He holds up the base. “Why is the cord no longer connected to the base?”

More mumbling. He catches the word experiment and something about microwave not working either…

Cursing a bit louder, John opens his laptop and searches for someone who will repair a boiler. He casts an evil look at the sofa as he dials the first one he finds. 

A minute later he ends the call. “It’s after hours,” he announces. “And the weekend is just starting. I left a message.”

He tries three more numbers, then five more, leaving increasingly desperate messages. 

For a moment he sits, eyes closed, and contemplates the long, cold weekend that lies ahead. Maybe the telly works, at least. He takes the remote and presses the power button. 

“Cable’s out too,” Sherlock’s voice says. He still in his blanket pod, but knows John well enough to anticipate his thought process. “Ice on the lines.”

“Well,” John says. It’s all fine for Sherlock, who is in a cocoon, unaffected by the weather inside the flat. “I’ll be upstairs putting on my arctic gear.”

“I’ll call for takeaway,” Sherlock says.

John’s room is even colder than downstairs. This is mainly because water has been leaking through a hole in his ceiling. The hole is a surprise, an unhappy one. Not big enough to see sky, but enough to let water in. This morning, before it started to rain and the temperature began to drop, followed by ice and snow, the ceiling was intact. His room was nice and warm—and dry. 

There’s no way he can blame Sherlock for the age of the roof, the weather’s bad timing, or the bad luck that hovers over John like a small, dark cloud.

He curses loudly as he opens drawers, hunting for his long johns and wool socks. Finding them, he sits on the bed and curses again as water soaks into his pants.

“Bloody buggering hell! What did I do to deserve this!” 

The fates have no answer for this.

Finally, having discarded his wet pants, donned his long johns, wool socks, a pair of corduroy trousers that fit over the long johns, a polo neck pullover, and the warmest jumper in his drawer, he heads down the stairs, cursing at a volume loud enough for the other resident of the flat to hear.

The sitting room is silent, the lump on the sofa unmoving. 

“There’s a hole in the roof!” he announces. “My bed is soaked through.”

“We could make a fire in the hearth,” Sherlock suggests. He’s poking his head out now, looking like a curly-headed turtle. 

“By we, I assume you mean me.” John grabs the blanket off the back of his chair and wraps it around his shoulders before sinking into the chair. “Do we have any firewood?”

“A relevant question.”

“Look, I won’t mind burning some of your books if it’ll keep me warm.”

“My books are valuable. You might try burning some of those idiotic spy novels you read. But there’s some firewood downstairs, by the back door. I’m sure Mrs Hudson won’t mind us using it. Better than coming home and finding our stiff, dead corpses—”

“Let’s not talk about corpses right now.” Not while I’m thinking about killing you. “Did you order some food, I hope?”

“Angelo’s is closed, due to weather. I ordered Chinese.”

 “Thank god.” John leans back in his chair. Every muscle in his back is tight from a very long day, and he’s shivering hard, wishing for a cup of tea. 

He hears movement from the sofa and opens his eyes. Sherlock stands, shedding his blankets. He’s dressed in a pair of John’s tracksuit bottoms, John’s Christmas jumper, and wool socks that look suspiciously like they came out of John’s sock drawer. 

He’s glaring down at John with concern (if such a thing is possible). “Stop shivering.”

“Involuntary response,” he replies, teeth chattering. “That’s my jumper you’re wearing.”

“I didn’t have anything warm enough.”

“You made fun of that jumper at our Christmas drinks thing.”

“Well, it’s more appropriate now, isn’t it?” He arranges one of his blankets around John, tucking him into his chair. Then he strides out the door. 

When he returns with a bundle of firewood, John is reflecting that there won’t even be hot water. No bath to warm him up. Just Chinese food and blankets.

The fire is looking somewhat robust by the time the doorbell rings. 

The Chinese food helps, though it’s been in transit long enough that it’s not very hot. Sherlock apologises for the tea kettle. And the microwave. When they’ve eaten, he collects the empty cartons and takes the leftovers into the kitchen. 

“Fridge still works,” he calls out. “Just warning you, though. It will probably stop when the indoor temperature drops below freezing.”

“Look on the bright side,” John replies. “We’ll be stiff, dead, corpses by then. Beyond caring about milk for the tea we can’t make.”

Sherlock comes back with a bottle and two glasses. “Here’s something to warm us up.”

He hands John a glass and pours. “Happy anniversary, John.”

John laughs. “Right. One year living at 221B. I didn’t expect you’d care about things like that.”

“Why not? One year is the longest I’ve managed to cohabit with anyone. It’s been… good.” He sits down, his face pink in the firelight.

“It has been good,” John admits. He remembers the first time he came through the door, saw Sherlock’s clutter, and wondered what he was getting himself into. He remembers carefully probing, trying to determine whether Sherlock might be interested…

Well, nothing ever goes to plan. That’s the story of John’s life.

He leans back, all the weariness of the day dragging his eyelids down. 

“John, wake up.”

“Mm?” He sighs and opens his eyes. 

Sherlock is standing over him. “You can’t sleep in your chair. In the morning your neck will hurt.”

“True, but my bed has become an ice floe.”

“Sleep in my bed.”

“What? Oh, you’ll take the sofa.”

Sherlock shakes his head. “Self-preservation, John. Body heat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We must sleep together.”

“Together?”

“It’s the only way.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

“Science, John. If your core temperature drops too low, you die. And all the firewood is gone, so we have to improvise.”

Improvise, indeed. The bedroom is colder than the sitting room, but the bed is large and, more importantly, not a frozen slab of ice. Keeping their clothes on, they crawl under the covers and move towards one another. Sherlock’s arms go around him, and John lays his head against Sherlock’s chest. 

It feels like something they do all the time. Or something they should have done months ago. 

John shivers a bit, not from the cold. Sherlock smells like kung pao chicken and expensive scotch. 

“Skin-to-skin might be warmer,” Sherlock says. “We shouldn’t take chances.”

John giggles. “Is the boiler really broken?”

“Of course. Did you think I was only trying to get you into my bed?”

“Sherlock.” He feels Sherlock’s nose with his own. It’s like an icicle. “You could have had me in your bed a long time ago, if that’s what you wanted.”

Sherlock is silent. He buries his face in John’s shoulder. “Really?”

“I didn’t think you wanted that.”

“Neither did I.”

“Do you?”

“Everything went wrong today,” he whispers. “And then you came home.”

“This was an especially bad day.” John snuggles into him. “The surgery was full of snotty kids and over-protective parents. Nothing interesting, just mucus and vomit. I didn’t get any lunch. The bus was late. And when I came home, it was freezing. But you were here.”

“John.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t mind all the things that are wrong, as long as you’re with me.”

“Not that I want more misery, but…” John kisses his nose. “You’re the one I want to share it with.”

Sherlock kisses John’s nose, then his lips, lingering. “Let’s get these clothes off before we freeze to death.”

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Stuck with the stranger

Note:so it's 2:40am I can't sleep and this fine man is in my mind, inspiration 'hating game' hope you have good day or night and don't forget to drink water ;3

part two

Summary:When You get trapped in an elevator with a charming stranger named Carlos, what starts as a stressful ordeal turns into the beginning of a heartfelt friendship. As you two share stories and dreams, an unexpected bond forms.

Warning: Contains mild claustrophobia and brief moments of anxiety.

Carlos sainz x reader

You entered the elevator, you were accompanied by a stranger.

The doors of the elevator closed with a quiet thud, sealing you inside with a stranger. You barely spared him a glance, too preoccupied with your own thoughts. But when the elevator jolted to a sudden stop, the lights flickering out, you couldn’t ignore him any longer.

“Of course this happens today,” you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling up.

The stranger beside you was already frantically pressing buttons, his expression a mix of annoyance and desperation. When it became clear the buttons weren’t responding, he sighed heavily and slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit in the corner of the elevator.

You glanced over, finally taking a proper look at him. He was fiddling with the bracelets on his wrist, clearly trying to distract himself. His features were dimly lit by the emergency light, but you could see he was attractive in a rugged sort of way, with a familiar face you couldn't quite place. He looked up at you with a small, sheepish smile.

“Doesn’t seem like pressing those buttons is helping much,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” he replied, his accent a smooth blend of Spanish and something else. “I guess we’re stuck here for a while. I’m Carlos, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Carlos,” you said, settling down on the floor across from him. “I’m [Your Name].”

Carlos chuckled softly, a sound that surprisingly made you feel a bit better about the situation. “Not the best way to meet someone, huh?”

“Could be worse,” you said with a shrug. “At least we’re not alone. So, what brings you here?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to tell you. “I’m here for some work,” he said vaguely. “What about you?”

“Just visiting a friend. So, where are you from, Carlos?”

“Spain. And you?”

You chatted for a while, the initial awkwardness giving way to a more comfortable conversation. You learned that Carlos traveled a lot for his job, though he was still vague about the details. He had a love for adventure, often finding himself in unexpected situations,though getting stuck in an elevator wasn’t usually on his list.

“Do you always carry so many bracelets?” you asked, noticing how he seemed to calm himself by playing with them.

He laughed, holding up his wrist. “They’re kind of a good luck charm for me. Each one has a story.”

“Like what?”

He began to tell you the stories behind a few of them, and you found yourself genuinely intrigued. There was one from a charity event in Monaco, another from a small market in Brazil. Each bracelet had a memory attached, and you found yourself admiring the way he cherished these small tokens of his experiences.

Hours passed, and you both shared more than just surface-level stories. You talked about your dreams, fears, and the small moments that made life worthwhile. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, a complete stranger. There was something comforting in the way he listened, the way he seemed to genuinely care about what you had to say.

Suddenly, the elevator jolted, and the lights flickered back on. You both looked up in surprise as the elevator started moving again. Carlos stood up and offered you a hand.

“Looks like we’re saved,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you replied, taking his hand and standing up.

As the elevator doors opened, you both hesitated, neither of you quite ready to step out. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a connection that had formed in the hours you spent together.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to get a coffee sometime?” Carlos asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that a lot.”

You exchanged numbers and stepped out of the elevator, going your separate ways. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something special. A friendship born out of a shared misadventure, with the potential for so much more.

It's short I know..if you want part 2 I will deliver it hope you liked it:3