#NO ONE KNOWS ENOUGH ABOUT COMPUTERS IN THIS OFFICE TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I HAVE MANAGED TO DO HERE

[unpretty]

power query to vba to powershell is absolutely psychotic. i say this as someone who actively prefers building tools in vba over python: you should have been allowed to start shooting people.

dude it's so bad, i am literally relieved that i can rearrange things to just use powerquery to make a normal-ass spreadsheet from now on. our old software used a fake proprietary filetype that was actually just a fixed-width text file that was like. have you ever seen a nacha file? it looked like a nacha file. except worse because the headers were specific incomprehensible gibberish. it was supposed to be generated by their timekeeping software that we didn't pay for, which based on the rest of their software is probably for the best. the woman who had this job before me did everything manually entering records she'd written down with a pencil. you were supposed to do payroll by creating a record for every single person in the org, including people who only work once a year, and then editing every record and deleting people who aren't getting paid. every time you make an edit there's a random chance it will delete the first person and they will need to be re-added. once my import got messed up so i had to make a bunch of edits and the first six employees got deleted from payroll. there was no way to edit the page layout when printing checks, it did the layout automatically based on the default printer. one time i forgot to change my default printer from PDF and it ruined a whole batch of checks. five years of this.

[carnations-fixations]

God, listened to something the other night and I can't stop thinking about like, working a terrible office job an just totally zoning out for an hour, playing solitaire or tetris on your computer until your boss calls you into her office

And you're just like oh fuck oh fuck she's gonna fire me oh shit oh shit-

Then you finally get into her office and she's sitting at her desk, rubbing her temple and staring at her computer with pure fucking disdain

You manage to squeak out a small "You wanted to see me?" And she looks up, her face relaxing almost imperceptibly. She tells you to sit and you do, not giving your obedience a second thought. You're still terrified you'll be out of a job.

"This meeting is killing me, and I know you're not doing any work in there, so you're going to stay here with me until it's over."

You look at her confused.

"I've seen you check me out more than enough times by now, love. Now, you can absolutely walk back out that door and keep not-working, I assure you no one's stopping you, or you can stay here and earn a little bonus."

Now you understand what's happening. She points to the floor next to her and you stand, walking over and kneeling. You think about leaving. You think about quitting. But she's right, you've been very attracted to her since the moment you saw her, and you struggle to keep your eyes off her body. So maybe this isn't so bad

She starts by just petting your hair as you sit there, staring forward and feeling a cocktail of anxiety, fear, and excitement bubbling in your chest. Then she gets even more bored, and slowly turns her chair so that you're facing each other instead of being side by side

"Last chance," She says, staring lasers into your skull. You can't bring yourself to meet her gaze, but you stay right where you are, obediently making your allegiance clear.

"Good girl," She says, opening her legs. She puts your head between her thighs, not taking off her pants, at least not yet. You finally look up at her, and she's staring at you with the most intense adoration you've ever been subject to. She's surprisingly gentle, simply petting your hair and looking down at you. Her pants are starting to bulge, the sight of you between her legs enough to get her aroused.

You feel daring enough to, while keeping eye contact, kiss her inner thigh. She grins and nods.

"Go on, doll."

Your chest feels like it's wrapped around a nuclear core. Jesus Christ this is hot- you look away, blushing profusely, and she slaps you. Not exceedingly hard, but it stings and sends a message.

"Eyes up here, doll."

You nod again, looking back up at her and placing gentle kisses on her thighs, moving higher... higher... until her grip on your hair becomes somewhat sadistic, pushing you closer to her now-prominent bulge.

You kiss and nuzzle and- god she smells fucking good- it's already enough to get you feeling high off her scent. She nods and pets you, pushing you down, although you don't need it. You'd already be grinding your face against her regardless.

Finally, you get brave, and reach up to her belt.

"That's it, dolly, go ahead- You know how to please Mommy, don't you~?"

God- No one's really talked to you like this before, and it makes your head swim, forgetting the inappropriate nature of all of this. All you want is to make her happy- You undo her belt with shaking hands and unzip her pants, just pulling them apart enough to get to what you need-

She's nice enough to help you pull her panties down, and you finally have access to her long, throbbing cock. A sound escapes you, like an excited squeak.

"Aww, little puppy wants a treat?"

You feel hot and fuzzy and strange and all you can think about is sucking Mommy's cock like a good little whore- you don't even know where these impulses come from. At this point, you don't care. You just inhale and let the scent of her musk erase all your thoughts.

"Open."

You obey.

She lowers herself onto your tongue.

"Suck."

You obey.

She pushes your head down, lower, until you're gagging harshly.

"Good fuckin' girl- Mnh--fuck, you're not too bad at this, I should keep you around-- nnNNgh-"

Hearing her voice break only makes your mind break double, looking up at her and sucking like your life is on the line, She bites back loud moans, dictating your pace with a hand in your hair. As she starts to get rougher and rougher, you can't help but feel so, so needy- hitting your uvula and making you gag, something you never thought you'd like, is like heaven in her hands.

"Mmn-- God you're such a good little whore for Mommy- NHfh--"

The praise only makes you more excited, and you find yourself starting to grind on her wing-tip Oxford's, whining on her cock. She doesn't notice, too distracted by your mouth, she starts to roughly fuck your face, hold you steady as she bucks her hips.

You feel her tense, and you whine, pushing yourself down all the way as she cums down your throat. The noise you make is depraved, and she responds with a low, gutteral groan, holding you down and breathing heavily.

Finally, she let's you up, her seed dripping down your chin from what you couldn't swallow. She takes her finger and runs it up your chin, gathering up the string that's fallen out, and shoves it in your mouth.

"Good fucking girl, perfect for Mommy... Now, clean her off."

You lick and suck at the tip of her limp cock, cleaning off all of the cum you can before putting her dick away. You're still grinding on her shoe, not even really thinking about it, but you're making noises that tip her off, and now that you're not choking on her cock you notice how close you are.

"Aww, little slut got so worked up she couldn't help herself, huh?"

You nod, whining and holding onto her leg.

"Are you close, doll?"

You nod again.

"Go ahead baby, keep going. I want you to cum for Mommy, okay? Just keep going and say Mommy's name when you cum, doll"

You nod again, quickly and appreciatively, grinding and whimpering as you feel your orgasm flood closer. You manage to whine out a single word as you cum, ruining yourself in her office.

"Mnhhh- Mm-Monmy--!!"

She pets your hair and smiles down at you, clearly pleased at your obedience as you ruin yourself on her shoe.

Well, now there's a problem. You're panting and shaking on the floor, covered in her cum and your own, and you still have another 3 hours of work.

"You can clean up in my office's bathroom, darling, take your time. I want you to finish out the day in that skirt, though. Some people have been getting a little too friendly with my doll, and they need to be reminded who you belong to."

You mumble out a slurred "Yes Mommy" as you sit limp against her leg, catching your breath.

Something tells you this isn't a one time deal.

[seeingivy]

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

--  

“hi honey bee.” 

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on. 

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate. 

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday. 

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect. 

a stitched and tailored suit,  designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city. 

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office. 

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks. 

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?” 

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways. 

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did. 

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa. 

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer. 

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you. 

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center. 

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.” 

you scoff. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.” 

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing? 

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name. 

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath. 

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face. 

--

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge. 

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly. 

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert. 

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day. 

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?” 

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head. 

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation. 

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night. 

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare. 

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.” 

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes. 

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side. 

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states. 

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh. 

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide. 

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks. 

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state. 

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states. 

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown. 

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks. 

you grin. 

“delta.” 

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.” 

you give him an exaggerated gasp. 

“a private jet? tell me all about it.” 

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out. 

--

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again. 

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him. 

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating. 

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks. 

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan. 

she giggles, leaning down to whisper. 

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.” 

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng. 

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee. 

“he’s losing it.” 

“who?” 

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.” 

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie. 

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.” 

you nearly choke on your spit. 

“what?” 

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.” 

you snort. 

“there’s no way.” 

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.” 

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie. 

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.” 

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?” 

“i swear to god.” 

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it. 

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti. 

“oh, look, look.” 

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly. 

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day. 

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos. 

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it. 

--

“can you close out my tab, toji?” 

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you. 

“you too, doll?” 

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state. 

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out. 

“rough day, y/n?” 

you shrug. 

“same old – can’t really complain. you?” 

toji smiles. 

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.” 

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar. 

“him?” 

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses. 

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.  

“honey bee?” he slurs. 

the smell is overwhelming. 

“the one and only.” you respond. 

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“huh?” 

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?” 

he glares. 

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans. 

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond. 

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone. 

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?” 

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar. 

“no thank you.” 

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.” 

satoru snorts. 

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.” 

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight. 

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask. 

he huffs a sigh. 

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.” 

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence. 

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.” 

--

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked. 

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all. 

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body. 

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state. 

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns. 

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks. 

you grin. 

“yes.” you respond. 

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks. 

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose. 

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes. 

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.” 

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states. 

you scoff. 

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states. 

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will. 

he was impossible. 

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink. 

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes. 

“okay.” you respond. 

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too. 

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes. 

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends. 

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond. 

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.” 

you snort. 

“shocker.” you deadpan. 

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence. 

“so what do i do?” he asks. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.” 

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else? 

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one. 

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers. 

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand. 

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer. 

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start. 

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist. 

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.” 

“raggedy anne?” he asks. 

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…” 

his eyes widen, as he leans forward. 

“do you guys not like her?” he asks. 

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think. 

you peek your head out the window –  a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window. 

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states. 

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.” 

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks. 

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit. 

“you would go back to her?” you ask. 

“i dunno. i –” 

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!” 

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. 

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –” 

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.” 

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state. 

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious. 

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..” 

“two.” you scold. 

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –” 

“three.” 

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain. 

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation. 

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands. 

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him. 

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks. 

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“mean stuff?” 

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add. 

satoru crosses his hands over his chest. 

“that’s not very mature.” 

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?” 

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over. 

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state 

“i’m not repressed!” he whines. 

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.” 

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it. 

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment. 

“do it.” you whisper. 

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“did you want something satoru?” she asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts. 

“hold on one second.” she says. 

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!! 

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.” 

satoru looks up at you. 

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs. 

you fight the urge to laugh. 

“what did you say?” anne marie responds. 

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder. 

“good! say it again!” you whisper. 

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking. 

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”  

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything. 

“say something else.” you whisper. 

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment. 

“how was that?” 

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds. 

“she sure did.” 

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds. 

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face. 

“have you done that before?” he asks. 

“done what?” you ask. 

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?” 

you smile. 

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state. 

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.” 

“i mean, s’pretty standard.” 

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head. 

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.” 

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too. 

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it. 

you feel bad for him. 

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“yeah.” 

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond. 

“what is?” 

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state. 

“okay.” 

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.” 

“meaning?” 

you shrug. 

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.” 

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still. 

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead. 

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile. 

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state. 

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?” 

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?” 

you smile. 

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?” 

satoru freezes. 

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.” 

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring. 

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different. 

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state. 

“okay, yeah.” 

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little. 

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink. 

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.” 

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all. 

“i could do that too.” he states. 

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“shut up.” 

“you’re pretty.” 

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks. 

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.” 

“like this?” 

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.” 

you shake your head. 

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.” 

satoru leans forward, eyes wide. 

“what are you into?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“did you really crash your car?” you ask. 

he groans. 

“you know about that?” 

you laugh. 

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.” 

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes. 

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room. 

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out. 

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was. 

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind. 

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now. 

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there. 

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan. 

“can i sleep with you?” 

“i beg your pardon?” 

satoru sighs. 

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.” 

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…” 

he shakes his head. 

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.” 

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you. 

“are you a virgin?” 

“i am not a virgin.” 

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room. 

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state. 

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?” 

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you. 

you swear he kisses your hairline. 

“did you just kiss me again?” 

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.” 

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state. 

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?” 

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head. 

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated. 

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks. 

“do what?” 

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks. 

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his. 

“yes, satoru. of course you can.” 

--

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. 

honey bee,  heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O  satoru 

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands. 

that he really does look better this way. 

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor. 

“did you check your math?” he asks. 

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask. 

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile. 

“did you like my gift?” 

“yes. but i have a few notes.” 

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk. 

“do tell.” 

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.” 

“candles can give you allergies?” 

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?” 

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.” 

satoru whines. 

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office. 

--

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetnertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

[orphiclovers]

I'm thinking about a canon adjacent au here okay hear me out. what if pre-scenarios hsy actually thought/knew she had DID?

with the blank spots of memory and lapses of time and tiredness and weakness etc hsy started to worry she had a brain tumor or something. went to a doctor & all the scans came back clear so she was directed to a psychologist instead. she learns of DID and is kind of excited to meet this apparently other person living her life (she's maybe 20 yo atp) yet her hopes are shattered bc her alter is apparently the most. uncomunicative bastard in the world. ignored all her sticky notes saying hi, all attempts at journaling or deligating tasks or following appointments on the shared calendar or working together on anything. radio silence from them, except for throwing the notes in the trash so she knows they saw them.

hsy is annoyed. the therapist suggests they don't feel safe or secure enough to talk yet and hsy begrudgingly accepts that.

its not like the other hsy is actually putting them in danger, as far as she can tell, they spent all their time on the computer doing who knows what (browsing data is always deleted after)

their body was literally collapsing under the weight of stress though, so even if the other her wouldn't help, hsy had to start managing this shit somehow. she's forced to be the responsible one and plan her day around the other her. has to take care of things like cooking and cleaning and eating and bathing in her own limited time awake, on top of things like friends and events and of course writing for work. has to choose to rest sometimes when she wanted to go out because of the other her.

she resents the other hsy for this at first - this is one of the things she spent a long time working out in therapy (among other issues besides the DID. apparently her childhood had fucked her up more than she realized) the therapist suggested the alter may not speak directly, but they're still communicating through their actions - to try to understand them and what they might be feeling. hsy does, even though she didn't want to.

the other hsy didn't seem to have any friends or leave the house, they didn't feed themselves or drink water on their own - hsy often woke up ravenous and thirsty and they were paranoid- han sooyoung found knives under her mattress once.

hsy knew these things, they were annoying, but looked at them in a new light now. for her to act like this, her other half must be damaged and cautious - the therapist had expected it, says these conditions don't develop on their own. it was a sobering thought. hsy can deal with a couple of inconveniences if it means she can stay the carefree and extraverted person she is, not miserable and lonely like the other her. maybe that's selfish but she deserves to be selfish sometimes doesn't she?

in the beginning, she tried to force the other hsy to come out - they spent a lot of time on the pc, so she took a weekend and went to the countryside, hiked to a camping spot and set up. she had her phone but no internet and wanted to see what the other her would do.

she woke up at midnight, dirty and sweaty, muscles screaming, in the closest bus stop with her phone at 2%. she could still feel the panic and adrenaline in her trembling arms, the way she had ran here. it scared her, she didn't try to force the issue again.

as for 1863, when young hsy tried to talk to her through notes she thought "oh shit oh fuck" but then realized its not like she can get kicked out (probably?) so decided to ignore her until she gave up. she tries not to interfere with her life more than necessary.

one time she woke up in a shrinks office, freaked out, threatened to stab the therapist and fled out the door. in her defense, she hadn't talked to a real life person in a month and really hadn't expected this. (for young hsy this was actually a breakthrough in therapy. she was very excited, gave her weeks of material to work on. after apologizing profusely.)

I just love this dynamic of twitchy, very maladjusted survivor who cares about very few things in life and herself is not on that list, and the exasperated young writer who wants to enjoy her life but has to deal with bullshit at home. frustrated, but at the same time curious and sad for the other her.

How this ends is. han sooyoung wakes up at the train station, looks around, and sighs with exasperation. the other her must have left her somewhere again. there is an odd hollowness in her chest that she writes it off and then the apocalypse happens.

hsy gets the avatar skill and wryly thinks its like it was made for her. she had always wanted to talk to the other her and now after so long she finally got the chance. she creates her, sees her for the first time- older than herself, skin tight around the eyes and a hard twist to her mouth like she hadn't ever smiled. shoulders hunched, she's got a confused, lost look in her eyes.

hsy says "hey, calm down, it's okay- well. things are crazy right now but you're mostly safe, I can explain."

the other her looks at her own palms, drags them up her forhead to clutch her hair, shaking her head and groaning. she stumbles away. "what have you done?"

hsy's throat feels strangled. "I- wanted to talk to you. what- what's wrong?"

the other her doesn't answer, looking blank, and then she bolts. hsy shouts and gives chase but eventually loses her, panting for breath and holding her knees in the street. "Fucking damn it!"

canon proceeds as usual. epilogue happens and hsy remembers everything, or more accurately, the other her comes back but this time without the walls dividing them. hsy feels complete for the first time in her life, and the hollowness she felt the day the scenarios started is gone.

post epilogue domestic bliss ensues where they actually get to know each other and talk openly about their experiences, after so many years.

[sanzaibian]

This is part of the Secret TF Writers Swap, a small "secret santa" event between writers organized by the lovely @alphajocklover.

Thank you very much for organizing it !

================================================

To @fafnir19

You sat at your desk, readying yourself for yet another soul-sucking day of office work.

You may be writing loads of stories on the internet, of people growing in and out of wealth, of demons and creatures, and most of all of transformation, but back in the real world, everything feels so much more static. Yesterday’s problems are today’s problems, and today’s problems are tomorrow’s problems. A never-ending series of crisis after crisis, which somehow always swap roots yet never swap effects. You can at least consider yourself fortunate that your pay is comfortable enough so that you can weather these, even if it means having to look in the eyes of someone who has little, and answer their request for starting something greater in the negative.

But today, there seems to be some agitation in the office. A change in the routine. Something to bring you out of the intensive mundane and the boring busyness.

So you ask the colleague with which you share desk a part in today’s gossip, and what he answers may surprise you :

“Nathaniel Nostitz has come here ! I don’t know why he’s here, but I’m sure everyone wants to bag him !”

Now, as a banker, you do keep an eye on the important fortunes in your area, and the Nostitz family is one of them – if not the most important. You know that their family comes from Silesia, but that there was recently some family drama with his son, or at least that’s what the few articles of showbiz about him that some colleague forced you to read said. You don’t actually care, but you do know that such an important family coming to see a standard local bank is quite… unusual.

But you know to keep your head down and not cause unnecessary problems. You won’t be able to convince him to do anything with you, and he may be tempted to destroy your career if you’re too annoying. Therefore, you go back on working on your computer, some case of investment account or something. Boring, but safe.

That’s why you were surprised when, suddenly, you hear a deep sultry voice speaking right next to you.

“Greetings. I think I have a proposal that may interest you.”

You look up to suddenly see a middle-aged looking blonde man, impeccably dressed and styled, sporting a bit bushy beard.

Is he… actually Mr. Nostitz ? He looks quite a bit younger than you expected… and more attractive… but it may be due to him having access to all the best treatments money can pay, after all. However, as he looks right in your eyes, you suddenly understand that the proposal – a business proposal, you guess – was aimed at you.

“Oh, er…” You stumble, not having expected this turn of events. “Greetings to you too, sir… what is that proposal about ?”

He smiles when you call him ‘sir��. Somehow, this smile seems almost… predatory ? Of some kind ?

“I’d be willing to place some of my fortune in your care… therefore in the care of this bank, if you were willing to grant me a few... favors.” He smiles, trying his hardest to look innocent while he is, in effect, holding you hostage to your company’s expectations. - I… I’ll think about it, sir…” You answer evasively, taken by surprise. - Of course, of course !” He smiles, looking even more predatory and threatening than before. He gives you a black piece of cardboard paper. “Here’s my business card, for when you’ve taken your decision.”

On that not-so-subtle order to accept, he takes his leave, leaving you confused in-between the jealous and judgy eyes of your colleagues. And as expected, you’re immediately summoned by your boss. He urges you to accept without delay, promising you a share of the high profits that a share of the Nostitz fortune will bring the bank.

And the door if you dare refuse.

That’s why you’re now here, in front of this huge manor, as ready as you can manage to be to throw yourself in the lion’s den.

The manor is very big, and very beautiful. Its fine architecture betrays its age, which shows how entrenched the Nostitz familly is, around here. A butler welcomes you inside, and leads you up to Mr. Nostitz’s office, though not without ridding you of your coat. And as you stand in front of the old wooden ebony door, you gather your courage before knocking.

“Enter.” The low and sultry voice orders.

You follow suit, opening the door, and finding Mr. Nostitz reading some files on a well-organized desk, with only a suspicious brown mallet throwing the neatness off.

“Hello, Mr. Nostitz.” You start, but as you’re about to continue, he cuts you with his authoritative voice. - Greetings. So you’re here to discuss my… proposition, are you not ? - Y-yes, sir, I am.”

He puts his files down, and stands up, towards one of the racks on the wall, looking through binder after binder.

“You see… ever since my son decided that our wealth was… problematic, I had a little project in mind. And when I saw you, I knew you were the perfect candidate for it.”

Son leaving ? Wealth problematic ? You the perfect candidate ? … it seems like the family drama you desperately wanted to know as little as you could about comes back to bite you in the ass…

“I’m sorry sir, I-” You start backing off, but he cuts you once again, his mere presence silencing you. - I want to do a little experiment on you.” He says, having found the documents he was searching for, reaching for the mallet and opening it in front of your eyes. “These… potions, you may call them, have some effects that I want to study. And you’re the perfect man for it. - Sir, I’m sorry to say that, but I don’t know if I want to risk my health with an untested substance !” You start refusing, tampering it as much as you can. - Of course, your refusal is to be expected when presented with so few information.” Somehow, this felt like a jab at you. “However, I guarantee that it is safe, it has been tested on numerous animals, and it’s been proven to be safe for humans. Besides, the papers I brought out here make me liable for any disease related to this… treatment.”

At least he was thoughtful, and didn’t ask you to jump in with full faith. However, he does ask you to jump in blind, which is more problematic.

“And, this treatment…” You interject, finding an opening in the conversation. “What does it do ? - Ah, yes, a most important query.” He comments, yet again preventing you from going further in your thought. “Let’s just say that it may trigger a few… changes in your body. Most importantly, it will make you look younger.”

Changes ? Younger ? These are two keywords that draw your attention, as they usually belong to that other part of your life… You are quite a bit more excited than you should be, but the chance to experiment with at least part of one of your oldest dreams, one that felt like it could only ever belong to fiction, clouds your judgment.

Such was Mr. Nostitz’s plan.

“I… I’m interested.” You finally manage, feeling it’s safe and enviable enough to throw the remainder of your caution to the wind. - That’s perfect. Then, I’d ask you to sign those papers, please.”

You skimp over them quickly before signing, hopefully catching anything big that would be lying in the text, but you find none. Assuming that no surprises remained, you sign. On that, Mr. Nostitz smiles maliciously, yet again looking like a predator, before reaching in the mallet and drawing a small glass flask, half-filled by an opaque cyan liquid.

“Then we should start now, don’t you say ? Please drink this.” He orders with his deep, authoritative voice. - O-okay…”

You were not expecting to start this so soon, but you’re quite weak to the strength of his voice… So you drink it. It doesn’t taste good, a bit too salty to your taste, but it’s not that bad. You know foods that tasted a lot worse. As you feel it coursing down your esophagus, you start expecting some effects, standing in silence, looking discreetly at your skin. But this just makes Mr. Nostitz elegantly laugh.

“Are you expecting instantaneous results ? You should wait until tomorrow, at the very least !”

You blush of shame from this, before deciding to cut this meeting there, since the treatment has already been administered. But before you can properly address your salutations, he stops you :

“I’m sorry, but now isn’t the time to go. See, it’s already late, so you won’t be able to go back to work.” He is correct, it is 7PM already, but you don’t understand why he’s stopping you like that. - I’m sorry, sir, but I… should really go home.” You say with the utmost care, not wanting to appear rude. - My, don’t you know you that, during the duration of the experiment, you agreed to lodging here ?”

You freeze.

You didn’t know that. Was it written in the document you signed ? Did you not notice it ? You did skimp through it, but surely such a motion would have jumped to you… However, taken in surprise, you improvise, lying to try and save face.

“Y-yes, of course, but I… need to get some things from home ! I can’t stay here with only what I have on me !” Hopefully he will buy your excuse. - Don’t worry, we have everything necessary on hand here. It might not be what you’re used to, but… everyone needs a bit of luxury in their life, if you catch what I’m saying.” He snidely smiles to you. - I’ll… see what I can do with…” You admit defeat, though surrendering to luxury isn’t the hardest thing to do. - That’s great ! The butler will lead you to your room.”

On that, the butler opens the door, and urges you to follow him. He leads you through beautiful corridor after beautiful corridor, all stinking money, until you reach another door. Inside is a spacious bedroom suite, likely bigger than your first flat, even without including the bathroom. It looks quite a bit more modern than the rest of the house, but with no less old money woody tones.

The butler leaves you alone inside, where, immediately after putting down the few things you were still carrying, you rush to the bathroom. However, you’re disappointed when you look inside the mirror and… it’s still you on the other side. Well, you expect it to still be you, but still, not seeing any change does bum you down.

This taken care of, you look around the room to get a bit more familiar with it. If it’s where you’re going to stay in the near future, you’d want to know where to find things of interest.

You start by the bathroom, finding a lot of hygiene stuff, including products for the skin and for the hair, as well as multiple bottles of expensive cologne and, weirdly enough, condoms… that are too big for your dick. Great. You move to the closet, in which you find a wealth of clothes, all fitted to your size – though they’re a bit loose on you, not by much, but noticeable enough – as if Mr. Nostitz knew you’d come. However, you’re surprised by their diversity. While there of course are the dress shirts and suits you’d expect, as well as polos, sweaters and other preppy clothes, there’s also some more young – for lack of a better word – clothes like a collection of jackets, t-shirts and even tank tops.

You close the closet back up, thinking to yourself that you’d never need this much clothes, but that you appreciate the thought. Having barely closed that piece of furniture, the butler invites you for dinner. He leads you to a grand dinner room, outfitted with a long wooden table, on which only two places were set.

You take place in front of one, while Mr. Nostitz takes place on the other side. On that follows a floury of expensive dishes, served as if you were at a high-grade restaurant. While you ate each of the courses, you entertained a lively discussion with Mr. Nostitz about investment, and about how his money would be taken care of, now that it is in your care.

That is, after all, the primary reason of your stay. Even if it got eclipsed by another.

Once the meal was finished, Mr. Nostitz waved you goodbye, and the butler accompanied you to your room. You did as usual, preparing yourself for bed, changing into your nightwear, brushing your teeth and all that. But as you were doing that, you noticed that your hair looked a bit… brighter than usual ?

It must have been the lighting, you think to yourself as you fall to sleep in the giant and extremely comfortable bed.

You are woken up by the butler at an early hour, as he tells you that breakfast will be served before you go to work. Ah… yes, right, you forgot, with how comfy the bed was, that you weren’t in holidays. So you stretch a bit, but as you enter the bathroom, something doesn’t look right…

It takes you a moment before you manage to figure it out.

Your hair was now blonde ! And curly !

You look out to your bedroom, but the butler isn’t here, so you look back in the mirror. God, that hair looks so healthy… You pinch yourself a few times, before you decide that you’re actually in the real world, and that this is now your hair.

A bit confused, you look in the myriad of products, and see that all the products for the hair are made for wavy or curly hair… how fortunate… So, you put some in your hair, hoping that they will make the mess that you woke up with more dignified, before continuing your morning routine as you usually do.

However, now the fact that there actually was a transformation makes you all excited for whatever comes next. You’re actually living your fantasy ! The one you thought wasn’t impossible in the real world !

Jovial, you eat, and enter the limousine, before being dropped off in front of your bank. You’re so happy about all that that you don’t even register the fact that you’re coming to work in a limousine, and sporting a healthier, curlier and blonder hairstyle than you ever had in your life. Though your colleague don’t ignore that, as you do manage to overhear people gossiping about those very things, you… really couldn’t care less. It just felt quite unimportant, really, when compared to everything else.

The day of work was over pretty quickly, and before you could even worry about going back to the manor, you see the limousine that drove you to your bank stationed in front, disturbing traffic in the meantime. You’d usually feel a bit guilty of being the reason of other’s frustrations, but somehow, you’re so happy that you just don’t care. Yet again.

As you enter, greeted by the chauffeur, it even starts feeling a bit normal, how you’re greeted with the utmost deference, how you are given privileges, how people are waiting for you…

You shake your head. This state of affairs is temporary, do not get used to the luxury. In a week, you’ll be back to your usual grind.

Arrived at destination, you enter the manor, expecting to see Mr. Nostitz, but he is nowhere to be found. That’s weird, you haven’t seen him in the whole day… you were eager to show him the golden curls you acquired… You furrow your brow at your sudden thought, finding them a bit out of character until you remember that you’re in an experiment. Of course the one responsible for holding the experiment should keep a close look on their patient.

But here you are, on your bed, not having seen him anywhere. You had the time to explore the mansion further, to write part of your next story, and relax, yet when the butler called you to go eat, you still hadn’t seen him. Taking place at the table, you also noticed that there was only one place setting. None for the elusive master of this mansion.

Adding insult to injury, before the first course, the butler comes back with a small flask, of the same kind that you took yesterday, filled in half with yesterday’s opaque cyan liquid. You sigh of frustration and take it from the butler’s hand, a bit more aggressively than you wanted to, and drink it, before unleashing your growing anger at the poor employee :

“Why isn’t Mr. Nostitz here ? He should be eating with me ! - Sir, Mr. Nostitz’s schedule is very busy, you were fortunate to have been able to share a dinner with him yesterday.” Explains calmly the butler, as if he’s seen this kind of tantrums many times. - That’s… understandable…” You answer, starting to calm down.

You eat each subsequent course in silence, trying to understand the reason of your anger. It’s not as if you really cared about Mr. Nostitz… he hosts you and runs this experiment, but you have only known each others for two days, and it’s not like it was love at first sight… After finishing your meal, you come back to your room, hoping to have a quiet evening after that feat of anger.

And as such started to create a bit of a routine for yourself.

On the morning, you checked the mirror for any change, noticing that you got taller, younger, more muscular and handsomer – for lack of a better word. You then take breakfast, ride up the limousine to your bank, slog through a workday becoming progressively boring as the days go on, and get relieved to find the limousine waiting for you in front of the building. Coming back to the mansion, you drink the flask, and then come out of your shell more and more, watching TV on the huge one in the living room, playing the latest Fifa if the urge takes you, going for a walk in the big gardens or even working out in the private gym, that seemed suspiciously new. And before sleeping, you use a progressively bigger amount of beauty products, noticing the odd few additional changes like your dick enlarging or your eyes taking on a blue color.

This life is becoming progressively comfier – not that it was painful by any means – and you feel more and more at home in the giant, faceless manor that you inhabit. Having a butler take care of you, being driven by a limousine, eating the finest foods, wearing the finest silk… all that luxury is starting to become second nature. The week flew by, and it was already time for the weekend. The last days of your experiment, the last days of a luxury that you will surely miss. And all that, without even having caught a glimpse of Mr. Nostitz.

You are now basically unrecognizable from the tired banker that came in this mansion. Now a handsome young man with blonde curls, all the fancy clothes that were bought for you fit like a glove thanks to the new muscles. As you take a last photo in front of the estate’s forest, you wonder if you should try opening an Instagram account. After all, your good looks aren’t going away, and work is just getting so boring...

But suddenly, your butler asks you to come urgently. Nonchalantly, you follow him to the mansion, where there seem to be a lot more people than usual. Is there a party of some kind happening ? You stroll in, finding Mr. Nostitz at the center of a small crowd. Finally ! He is here ! He will finally be able to see what you became !

So you hurry in his direction, drawing the ire of some of the guests. But you don’t actually care, they shouldn’t have been in your way in the first place. You are now in hearing distance from the architect of your experiment, but as you’re about to make yourself known to him, his voice overpowers you. However, it isn’t addressed to you, but rather at a guest.

“Cassandra, why must you raise this issue in a day of rejoicing !” As he told that, he looked briefly at you, noticing your presence. - Nathaniel, you cannot continue this charade ! Leandra has long passed, and even your own son agrees that you can’t continue claiming the fortune ! You are not part of our family anymore !” A well-dressed woman – Cassandra, you assume – with long curly dirty blonde hair insisted, angrily. - This son of mine isn’t able to manage our fortune, you can at least agree with me on that. Besides, I was married to Leandra, my beloved, so you know the implications. - Quit trying to act as if you’re part of our kin. We will need to see you in court, if you do not heed this last warning !” She said ominously, although it only drew Mr. Nostitz’s smile. An evil and predatory smile, as always. - If you’re talking like that… then I assume you are not acquainted with her second son.”

Second son ? You thought he only had one ! … and clearly, so did the rest of the room, who fell silent, looking at Mr. Nostitz with incredulity.

“Stop inventing excuses. If Leandra had another son, I would have been aware ! - Well, in this case, we may make introductions !”

He suddenly strides towards you, grabbing you by the arm, and as you stand there incredulous, he announces :

“I present to you my son. Leandra’s second son, and my second son. The true heir of the Nostitz family.”

A gasp of shock sleeps through the entire room, which would have included you if Mr. Nostitz hadn’t squeezed your arm at the right moment. Just what is he playing at ! Last you checked, you remember your parents, and none of them seem to belong to the Nostitz family that stands here, and you’re quite sure that Mr. Nostitz is in no way your father.

Yet, after the initial shock and denials, you hear people in attendance starting to notice similarities between you and your supposed parents. Some point out the curls like Leandra, or the blonde like Mr. Nostitz, some say your face looks like one member of the family or another, and other say you stature reminds them of Mr. Nostitz.

Out of them all, Cassandra, although she was just as shocked as the others, if not more, was the first to speak out against this assertions.

“This… is ridiculous ! You can’t just invent a new son to keep a hold of the money ! - I’m not inventing anyone. He was just… raised in another family to prevent him from being corrupted like his older brother. - This is pure and utter nonsense ! I require proof ! Irrefutable proof that he is your son, and Leandra’s son ! - All in due time, I knew you would react like that, so I prepared all the necessary prerequisites to make a paternity test. I wanted to present him to you all to continue this process.” Suddenly, he looks at you in the eyes. “Of course, my son will be enchanted to cooperate in your quest for proof, isn’t he ?”

His look was a dare. A dare to start living a life in a lie. A dare to continue living in the mansion you inhabit. Although he neglected you during your whole stay, although you have a life outside this mansion, although you have actual parents and family, you… can’t seem to be able to refuse his request.

Is it the luxury that drew you in ? Or the transformation, making you become a whole new person altogether ? Or is it Mr. Nostitz’s authority that you don’t want to defy ? Whatever the actual reason, you smirk, and cannot help but say, in the most proud and obnoxious voice that you have :

“Yes, of course, father.”

You pose, as your butler takes a picture in front of your vineyards.

You are dressed in an expensive shirt, with a luxury watch and obnoxious Gucci sunglasses. And you wouldn’t expect any less than this display of wealth. Because even though you don’t actually run those yards, your father being the one to generate all the wealth that you benefit from, you still own them. You also own a lot of other things, noteworthy between all these possessions being the Nostitz mansion.

However, now, you don’t work a day in your life. You quit you banker job as soon as the DNA test results came in, showing that you were indeed the son of Nathaniel Nostitz and Leandra Nostitz, as this life wasn’t yours anymore. Rather, you now spend your time on Instagram, modeling and throwing party after party with your new famous or otherwise wealthy friends. These activities let you earn a surprising amount of money, although it is just a drop in the ocean of all your wealth.

But you know that you are only a puppet, living a life of hedonism while your father cultivates power on your back, created with the only aim of holding on to a fortune. And you couldn’t care less. Hedonism is fun, once you give in, and it makes you happier than you have ever been. If the price for that is any sense of life achievement… then you are more than willing to pay it all.

Besides, it’s not as if you could actually say no to your beloved father.

[dock57]

[Another day, another Monkey Wrench ramble! Decided to go back to EP 2 again this time. Despite being one of the shorter episodes, it has some of my favorite moments between Shrike and Beebs.

Anyway, the thing I want to talk about today is the some of the world building to the Monkey Wrench universe. In general, Monkey Wrench has such an awesome world building to it. Its very open, but has some rules and expectations it follows.

One of my favorite things about this world? The idea of every Alien having a translator. Its such a simple thing to include, but when you start digging into it- it can say a bit about the character.

It took a few rewatches, but the idea that you can have a translator either internal or external? I just thought that was such a cool idea. I think most sci-fi concepts when it comes to different languages, either they already know and understand the alien, there is no language barrier, or if there is a translator, its usually another device or someone else doing it.

The idea that everyone has one, either internal or external, its such a simple but clever idea for not needing to fuss over the issue about language differences. Besides, where a galaxy has different languages, could be hundreds- thousands? Trying to learn them all would. Take more than a lifetime...

How nice would it be to just have one install and do all the hard work for you? I especially love the idea of just having an internal one installed- so you would not have to worry about it being damaged from the outside, or well, being in the way? Like when looking at Beebs, his translator is large. A nice size of equipment to keep maintained and not as compacted. Like think about how small computers can be compared to their first designs? Smaller and more compact always feel so much more manageable.

As I said before, I think even translator and what a character has can say about a character too. Especially this scene from EP 2. Beeb's personality and overall design, has this impression that Beebs' is well, a much simpler type of guy. He does not seem like the type to update anything unless, it really comes to the point it might need to be replaced. His translator and cybernetic arm are examples of this, why fix something if its not broke?

I also find that translators can tell about someone's wealth as well. As I believe that internal models are more expensive than external ones. It could be possible that Beebs' has an older model as well, but as Shrike also mentions, Beebs was also stingy getting a new one, which once again, adds to how Beebs tends to hold onto materials until broken, plus, coming off as a more simple guy- I don't believe Beebs enjoys complicated tech. He even has his acoustic guitar, free from technology itself to keep it simple and free from having difficult technical problems, unlike the Bucket itself or his cybernetic arm. Being stingy can also suggest that Beebs is looking out for his savings. As that not wanting to upgrade or wanting a internal translator to save on pixels. Although translators seems like to be a pretty important thing to have in this world, as it seems like everyone does have one, even when it comes to purchasing one, you also need to think what is affordable and works best for you. In Beebs' eyes, you don't need the newest one to have this function, just one to do its job which is enough.

I see in this world, that Translators can be use as a sign of wealth, where internal are more expensive and external ones are not. As for Shrike, who is definitely not a wealthy Alien by no means... He may have made the decision to get an internal one as a possible poor financial decision, as Shrike is clearly not responsible when it comes to money. He may have one to just have it and follow the trend of others- or he may have got his from L.A.W. as well as it could have been a requirement for L.A.W. members to have one, or a benefit of being a L.A.W. officer.

Whatever the case with Translators in this world, it is definitely has been something I been noticing more and more on characters in the show, major, minor or even background characters. The more I keep watching Monkey Wrench, the more I pick up on the world build and the little pieces, such as the translator, to build how its universe's function.]

[thezombieprostitute]

Imagine this:

accountant!reader x IT tech!Jensen x manager!Andy x CEO!Lloyd

The intent was to write something short and sweet but smutty. The result is approximately 2200 words with a ton of smut! I blame Lloyd.

Warnings: Power dynamics; Creepy boss; Smut, smut, SMUT! Minors DNI!!!!

“Thank you, Jake,” you half whisper, half moan into his ear. “I really needed this.” You’re not normally one for hookups in the supply closets but you’d had such a stressful day you really needed to let off some steam. Thankfully Jake was always happy to help you out. And he was very good at helping you feel good. 

The two of you had a friends-with-benefits situation that had been carefully negotiated and navigated. Sometimes you got the sense that Jake wanted more and that’s why he was so eager to please. But you were both quick to talk if either of you felt things were getting too serious. It definitely made office parties a lot more fun. Everyone else was enjoying the cheap food and you and Jake got to go to a private office and actually take your time together.

You both do try to be careful at the office but your manager, Andy, has been really ramping up the sad sack shtick with all the women in your department, desperate for a date or some feminine attention and pity. You could only take so much, especially when your coworkers pointed out to him that you’re single. Traitors. 

Every day he would ask you about your plans. You tried being polite and got nowhere. You finally told him, directly, that you weren’t interested in him last Friday. Today you were called into a meeting with HR about “appropriate workplace behavior”. They told you they’d received complaints from your manager about flirting with him despite him telling you “no”. You smiled tightly and nodded, staying quiet and signing the documents saying you’d been talked to. 

You texted Jake on your phone to meet you in the hall closet. One of the things you appreciated? He didn’t ask questions, he just showed up and gave you what you needed. He really seemed to like it when you would repeatedly whisper “thank you’s” into his ear. It’s only a quickie but it definitely helps. You kiss Jake’s cheek and thank him as he blushes. You leave at different times and head back to your respective desks.

 You check your email and find yourself looking at an appointment with Lloyd Hansen, the company’s CEO. Thinking it must’ve been in error you hit the “Decline” button and add the most polite note that you can think of. Just a few minutes after you get yet another appointment notice with Mr. Hansen. No explanatory note. You’re extra grateful to Jake because your brain immediately jumps to Andy complaining about you to Mr. Hansen because your HR visit wasn’t enough of a punishment. 

The appointment is for tomorrow so you silently stew for the rest of the workday. At home you treat yourself to your favorite meal and shows. Your sleep is full of stressful dreams and you wake up more exhausted than when you went to bed. Not wanting to look like a mess in front of Mr. Hansen, you make sure to take extra care of your makeup and clothing choices. Working as hard as your caffeine deprived can to balance “I’m okay” with “I’m not trying to flirt with anyone”. It’s never an easy task.

As you log on to your computer you smell Andy’s cologne and internally wince. You turn to face him, “yes, Mr. Barber?”

“Easy there, tiger,” he chastised. “I just want to make sure that you’re doing okay after that HR meeting.”

Gritting your teeth you reply, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well I know a lot of people can have a kind of whiplash when they realize their behavior isn’t acceptable,” he explains in an obviously condescending tone. “I’ll understand if you want to take some vacation time.”

“Mr. Barber,” you seethe, “I think what would help me the most is keeping some distance between us at all times in the office.”

“Okay,” he scoffs. “Just remember who it is that HR listens to.” He walks away and you find yourself trying to not throw or break something. 

As soon as you can you head straight to Mr. Hansen’s office. His secretary lets you in, though he is not yet in. You should probably be upset that he’s late for the meeting he insisted on having with you but it’s better than sitting in your cubicle waiting for Andy to strike. 

The quiet is broken by Mr. Hansen storming into the office, yelling at someone on the phone. You recognize him immediately if only because of the mustache. “And I told you to handle it, Six! Get your head out of your ass and fix it!” He lets out a small huff as he listens to the person on the phone. “I don’t give a shit. It should’ve been handled weeks ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting.” He hangs up without waiting for a response and turns to you with a smile that makes you feel like prey caught in a trap.

“So you’re the girl Barber was complaining out,” he starts. You’re unable to hold back your grimace and he laughs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t give a shit about that cuck.” You tilt your head in confusion. “See, he tried to play up the whole “women don’t know how to take a compliment” thing but I was able to see through him. He’s pathetic and you weren’t having it. Even flat out told him, “no”. That’s something I respect. Not everyone would do that to their boss.”

He sits down in his chair and continues, “so I started looking into you and imagine my surprise when I find out you and Jensen are hooking up!” Your eyes widen in shock and you start stammering before he holds out a hand, gesturing for you to stop. “You’re not in trouble for that. Hell if I could get laid instead of attending those lame work parties I absolutely would. Which is why I brought you here.” 

He leans his elbows on the desk, “I want in on whatever fuck-buddy deal you and Jensen got going on.”

“S..sir, I,” you’re at a loss for words. 

“Tell you what,” he slaps the desk and stands up, “I’ll make it easy for you. Either you agree to be my own fuck-buddy, occasionally still get some good stuff from Jensen, or I’ll make you Barber’s personal secretary.”

“What if I quit instead?”

“Then I’ll go ahead and fire Jensen,” he quips. “It would be a damn shame, though. Jakey is one of the best IT guys we got. Likely up for a promotion that would get him a private office.”

“Can I talk to Jake first,” you plead. “It is part of our arrangement that we communicate changes before they’re implemented.”

“You know what, sure. I can respect that a deal is a deal.” He goes to the phone on his desk and tells his secretary to send Jake up.

When Jake does arrive he’s shocked to see you. At Lloyd’s gesture he closes the door behind him. Lloyd doesn’t let you speak and lays everything out for him like he did you. 

Jake looks at you, “it’s…umm…I appreciate you looking out for me and my job,” he starts. “But it’s also your body and I would never want you to accept something like this just for me.”

“You know, Jakey here has a point,” Lloyd interjects. “You really don’t know what you’re in for with me. How about a demonstration? I’ll even let Jake join in to help keep you comfortable.”

Knowing that you were being watched shouldn’t excite you so much. The fact that both of these men wanted you was making you wet. You straddle Jake in his chair and start making out with him while taking off your clothes and grinding your hips against his crotch. 

Jake moans as he takes off your bra with practiced ease, “you’re sure about this?” 

“Feel how wet I am, Jake.” He obliges and sticks his fingers inside your panties. He rubs your clit and you arch your breasts into his face as his eyes widen at the wetness he finds there. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. He gets a dark glint in his eye that you don’t entirely recognize. He removes his hand and starts to unbutton your pants. “You gotta taste her, Mr. Hansen. Sweetest pussy and it’s already drenched.”

You hadn’t realized Lloyd was standing behind you until he grabbed your breasts, lifting you a little as he nibbled your neck. He pulls you off of Jake and the two of them finish undressing you before setting you on Lloyd’s desk. You’re on your back, your head hanging over one side, your legs spread wide for the both of them. 

Lloyd doesn’t hesitate and dives tongue first into your pussy. Your reaction is immediate as he uses his mustache to tickle your clit. You throw your head back and moan before you’re able to stifle it. 

He pulls away from you, “don’t worry about noise, sweetheart. My secretary is gone for the afternoon and no one else would dare be on this floor.” He turns to Jake, “you were right! This is a damn tasty snack.” He gets back to it and you don’t hold back your sounds. It was such a relief to get to be as loud as you wanted. 

“Fuck, I love those sounds,” Jake groans.

You reach out to him, “your cock, Jake? Please, can I stroke your cock?”

“Love those sounds, too,” he grins as he undoes his belt. You look to Lloyd to see if he has any objections but he’s too focused on licking up all of your juices. Jake is already half hard and your hands know just how to get him fully erect. His hands start playing with your tits, gently pinching, pulling and fondling. 

The two of them quickly bring you to the brink of orgasm, then Lloyd sticks two of his fingers inside you and it pushes you over the edge. You cum loudly and Lloyd keeps scissoring his fingers while sucking on your clit, enjoying the show. When the aftershocks fade, he removes his hand and backs away just a little.

“Jensen, you take her mouth,” he orders. “I’m gonna make a mess of this pussy and I want to hear her choking on your cock while I do.”

You let go of Jake’s erection and he starts pushing himself into your mouth, grunting and moaning as he does so. He’s careful with you, like always, and places your hand on his thigh so you can signal if it gets too much.

Lloyd, however, lines himself up with your opening and quickly thrusts himself fully inside. If your mouth wasn’t so full of Jake’s cock, you’d likely have screamed. They fucked both of your holes with abandon and you were loving every second of it. Occasionally Jake would ask for a status and you’d tap his thigh twice for “all good”. 

“Not gonna last much longer,” Lloyd admitted. “This pussy is so fucking tight. I see why you risked your job for her.” He started rubbing your clit and you careened towards another orgasm. As soon as Jake came in your mouth you were done for. You tightened your legs around Lloyd as you came hard and swallowed all of Jake’s spend. You heard Lloyd mumbling, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” before he came with a yell. 

You’re still in a daze as both men pull out of you. Lloyd whistles, “now that’s a pretty picture. What say we get you cleaned up?”

“What the fuck?!” A voice from the office door crashes your post-orgasm euphoria. You look up and see Andy, standing in the doorway.

“Ah, Barber,” Lloyd says as he zips his pants back up. “Right on time.”

“What?!” Jake exclaims as you look, wide-eyed, at Lloyd. 

“You see, Andy,” he walks over to your manager and claps him on the shoulder. “You’re a complete cuck and we both know it.” Andy tries to protest but Lloyd cuts him off. “This is the closest you’re ever going to get to some pussy. Now be a good boy and clean up the mess I made.” He throws Andy to his knees in front of your spread pussy. 

Andy groans at the sight and you feel a stir of courage. “Well,” you scold. “Are you going to be a good boy and do as you're told or am I going to have to clean myself up?” His eyes darken but you don’t back down. He dives into your cum filled pussy and starts cleaning you up.

“Good boy,” Lloyd smirks. “Probably the only way you can actually please a woman.” He looks at Jake, “whenever you’re done with her, call her cuck over to clean up. Sound good?”

Jake looks to you and sees you writhing with pleasure, “I think so.”

Part 1.5

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Trine [13]

Anselm Vogelweide x Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Trine Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Blue doesn't approve of Anselm's choice of pet names.

A/N: Special shout out to the lovely @midgardian-witch 💚🫂 who encouraged me to post this (it has taken 100 years).

Warnings: sexy times mentions, Blue being a brat, german (Blue doesn't speak it), typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 914

“Well, I hate it.” Blue says, a little too dramatically as he puts the chocolate covered pistachio in his mouth and chews. “It’s awful.” 

Anselm can’t help but smile, however he does manage to suppress his chuckle. “And why is that, mein lieber?” He squeezes Blue’s thigh a little as he talks, making him squirm. 

Blue is sat on Anselm’s lap, in Anselm’s private office. 

He had forgone getting fully dressed today, swanning around in his baby pink silk, short, dressing gown and slippers. Grumpy and inconsolable. 

You were busy today, an important meeting followed by seeing some old friends. (The phrase 'old friends’ had been enough to get Blue scowling.) And you wouldn’t be back until late. 

Even Anselm’s best tricks weren’t breaking his foul mood, and even though he did love Blue’s petulant little pout, he was very aware that he had not smiled once since you’d kissed them just before you left this morning. 

“It just is.” Blue huffs, leaning back a little against Anselm’s chest and staring daggers at the laptop screen.

Anselm presses a light kiss to Blue’s shoulder blade, “What about the cut of this one?” He moves the mouse and clicks on a different suit. Usually shopping cheered Blue up no end, whether it was in person or online. (Anselm had opted for the latter today, as Blue did not want to leave the house.)

“Ugly.” 

Anselm laughs this time and he can feel Blue preen a little, pleased that he has amused him. 

“The colour is disgusting as well.” 

“I like it, mein lieber.” 

“Well, you have no taste.” Blue folds his arms. 

“Is that true?” Anselm lightly kisses his neck and Blue nods.

“Absolutely.” He juts his chin towards the screen, “And neither does this designer. I know you’d get it handmade but this prototype is just ghastly.” 

“Just ghastly?” He repeats with glee, thoroughly enjoying how worked up Blue was becoming. Anselm takes a pistachio from the bowl on his desk and presses it lightly to Blue’s lips. 

“There’s no sense of style.” He huffs before he opens his mouth and licks the minuscule amount of melted chocolate from Anselm’s fingers liberally. “I would dress you better than this hack, or yourself.” 

Anselm can see the little frown deepening on Blue’s face, “I thought you liked them, mein lieber? You have three suits from them, and two-”

“Why are you calling me that?” Blue snaps. Despite the bluntness of his words his tone, surprisingly, doesn’t come across as rude. More… distressed and trying to cover it. 

“Mein lieber?” 

“Hmm.” Blue purposely stares at the computer.

Anselm slowly drags his left hand up to Blue’s face, lightly stroking his jaw and gently coaxing him to turn. Blue huffs again, rolling his eyes, but turns his head. 

“Are you not my dear? My love? My spoilt little brat?” Anselm squeezes Blue’s waist a little, making him yelp and Blue scowls harder. 

“Meine liebe,” Blue says disgruntledly. “You’re saying mein lieber.” 

Anselm chuckles again, understanding. He called you ‘meine liebe’. “My sweet, you will have to forgive german and its old fashioned formalities. Meine liebe is the feminine, mein lieber is masculine.” 

“Oh,” Blue paused, the thoughts turning in his mind for a moment. “Well, I don’t like that either.” 

“Do you not, my love?” 

“No, I don’t want ‘mein’ that just sounds… wrong, horrible. Meine is sweet and nice and,” reminded him of you. He wanted to be called the same sweet words, held in the same regard. 

Anselm smiles, nuzzling his beard into Blue’s cheek for a second. “Meine liebe it is.” He mutters in Blue’s ear, making him shudder and press closer. 

Blue swallows, wrapping his arms around Anselm’s neck. “I like that.” He whispers. 

“Well, thank the old gods, because at last, it seems like my beloved is satisfied with something.” Anselm pinches Blue’s thigh lightly, making him yelp and squirm, Anselm’s tight grip on his waist stopping him from completely escaping. 

“I was satisfied with the chocolates.” Blue mutters but Anselm ignores him.

“All day I’ve been more than accommodating with your bratty behaviour, and after I promised our wife I would cut you some slack and not be too harsh on you.” 

Blue leans back, pouting a little but it’s not enough to cover his smile. “She asked you to be kind to me?” He teases lightly, obviously thrilled that you and Anselm had had a conversation about him. 

“She demanded it.” Anselm strokes Blue’s cheek softly, before sliding his fingers around to the back of his neck and squeezing firmly. “And, I will be. For the whole of today.”

Blue grins wickedly.

“But don’t think you’re going to get away with this behaviour, oh no.” He tuts.

“Oh no? Are you going to wait until later to punish me? I better make the most of it then.” He grins, showing off his canines. Thoroughly looking forward to the idea of riling up Anselm even more and facing his delicious wrath later on. 

But instead of a stern word, Anselm gives him an equally dangerous smile. “Quite the contrary. Our liebe told me before she left, that she will be punishing you for any and all your transgressions today.” 

Blue pauses for a moment, his eyes wide and then swallows audibly, a shiver of delight running through him. 

“Ah, much better,” Anselm kisses his cheek and rubs his nose against his. “I much prefer seeing joy in your eyes over sorrow.” 

Thank you for reading!

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[elzifelzi]

PHANTOM

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chapter 8:Ghastly recruitment

Vlad:”What do you mean Phantom disappeared!?You had one job, Skulker,bring me back the ghost boy and you failed!”

Vlad stormed around his office furious at the news that he’d just received,the thought that Phantom managed to escape his grasp multiple times was enough to drive him mad.

Skulker:”The boy is not lost Masters,I know exactly where He is.”

Vlad:”oh you do? So why haven't you successfully Captured him yet,since you're the self proclaimed greatest Hunter it should be easy for you,right?”

Skulker:”Like I told you before,the boy is of no USE to us at his current level,he doesn't even know how to fly yet.”

In anger Vlad flips over a nearby chair.

Vlad:”I understand that but we're running out of time!It’s getting harder and harder to keep your henchmen's work under the radar,first at the university that my employee's daughter attends,then in the middle of the damn city,I can’t keep covering your ass and ending up with no results!”

Skulker grew increasingly enraged with each accusation made against him,as he had the right to.Phantom was single-handedly destroying his credibility and he couldn’t have that.In a fit of anger he flung Vlad's computer across the room knocking him into a nearby bookshelf causing it to topple over.

Skulker:”IF I WANTED THE BOY ,HE'D BE MINES ALREADY BUT WE NEED TO WAIT just wait..and you’ll get results..in due time…”

Vlad:”I need more than just promises Skulker,the other night I got a complaint that Phantom and  3 of your ghost subordinates were blowing up cars near a residential area!My men were all set to go and I had to convince them that it was a false report!Sooner or Later someone is bound to put 2 and 2 together..”

The ghost lets out a loud scoff.

Skulker:”Getting cold feet Masters?

Vlad:”Hardly, I have invested too much time and resources into you for me to keep turning up with nothing.This ultimate prize that you need the boy for better be worth it!”

Skulker:”Believe Me it will be.Don’t worry, Phantom hasn't left amity which means that there is ample opportunity to bring him in,the most important part of this hunt…is patience..”

Then he took off in a gust of wind.

Vlad:”Believe me, regardless of whether or not your men succeed ,one way or another I will gain my prize.”

He pulls out his phone and calls someone,the phone rings for a few seconds before eventually the call is answered.

Vlad:”Yes,Hello Damon is Valerie with you by any chance?”

Damon:”Why yes she is,is there a problem?”

Vlad:”No No No not at all I was wondering if she could meet me in my office,there’s something I wish to discuss with her.”

On the other end Vlad could hear muffled whispers between the father daughter duo,the incoherent conversation went on for a little while longer before Damon eventually returned to the call 

Damon:”Sorry about that sir Valerie said she would love to meet with you .”

Vlad:”splendid! Thank you very much.”

He hangs up the call and takes a seat at his Desk and in a half hour  Valerie walks in much to his delight.

Valerie:”You wanted to see me Mr Masters?”

Vlad:”yes ,yes,please have a seat.”

As Valerie makes her way towards his desk She notices the shattered computer and toppled bookshelf on her way in but made no comments on it.

He gets up and pulls out a seat for her in an attempt to seem as kind as possible and Valerie, not wanting to be rude, accepts.

Vlad:”I've been told that our training program has been going splendidly for you. Is that true?”

Her face lit up with excitement like a child being asked about their favorite cartoon.

Valerie:”It has, all the combat and weapons training has been loads of fun.”

Vlad:”Glad to hear it!You know, the Junior Ghost Hunters started off as a way to teach young people how to properly defend themselves against ghosts but a good deal of our most promising ghost hunters started off in that program before being fully employed here.”

Valerie:”Yeah, my dad told me.”

Vlad:”did he also tell you that currently we’re looking to hire a new young ghost hunter?”

Valerie:”What are you saying Mr Masters?”

He reaches under his desk, pulls out a silver briefcase and hands it to Valerie.

Vlad:”I’m saying that we want to hire you..”

The young girl began bursting with excitement; she couldn’t believe that Vlad Masters himself wanted to hire her!This was like a dream come true.

Valerie:”I’m flattered Mr Masters but I've got school..my dad would flip if I didn't finish my degree.”

He waved his hands dismissively.

Vlad:”don’t worry about that, you can work part time until you are ready to fully join us.”

Valerie:”Really?!”

He nods.

Vlad:”there are however a few rules you’d have to adhere to,4 to be exact.”

He puts up 4 fingers to emphasize his point.

Valerie:”Which are?”

Vlad:”1.Since you’ll only be part time we can’t risk anyone close to you getting hurt because of this so you’ll have to maintain complete anonymity.No One can know that you work here, your identity and actions while under my employ must remain secret,and Inside the briefcase is a battle suit that’ll help you do just that.”

Valerie:”What about my dad?”

Vlad:”I’ll tell him that you’ve been hired as my assistant he shouldn’t question anything.”

Vlad:”2.You strictly answer to me,meaning that you take orders from me and all reports on Various ghost activities come to me.This also applies to weapon maintenance and restocking.”

Valerie:”That makes sense seeing that no one else can know that I work here for now.”

Vlad gives her a prideful smile.

Vlad:”smart girl! 3rx your main objective as my undercover ghost hunter will be to find and apprehend the ghost known as Phantom.When you do you return him to me in one piece.”

Valerie:”Phantom? you mean that scrawny ghost punk who's been playing hero?”

Vlad nods.

Vlad:"That's the one!”

Vlad:”And finally you are only to deploy on my say so,essentially if I don't give you a mission you don't involve yourself.”

He offers her a handshake.

Vlad:”Do you accept these terms?:

Valerie was ecstatic, the idea of hunting down Phantom alone was enough to get her to agree.Without a second thought she accepted Vlads handshake.

Valerie:”I accept!”

Vlad:”Welcome aboard.”

To be continued…

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

New Chapter out guys,hope you guys like it. This ones a slow one but its fun

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

Chapter 7 of Domino Milkshake! Finally cool enough for my poor poor laptop (i'm really going to have to take a look at upgrading this poor girl, I've recently realised she's getting on quite a bit now...)

Read here or on AO3!

Now that Jazz had made his Big Reveal to Prowl, he had taken up the habit of bringing it to work with him, leaving it to sit at his work station where he could absently tend to it while he worked. At first, Ultra Magnus had disapproved – it was a distraction! But even he couldn’t deny that, for the first time ever, Jazz was actually properly writing and formatting his reports.

And so, there it stayed. Much to the absolute delight and amusement to the resident Praxians on base.

Jazz didn’t understand the chatter and the glee they had over it – Prowl had just said that it was an extremely rare colour and they often required a bit more attention – but from the way they were acting, it felt like there was more to it than that.

“Hey, Raj?” He leaned over to the right into Mirages area.

“Mmhm?”

“You like crystals, right?”

“That is correct. I do rather like the colour on yours, I must say. It is very pleasing.”

“Thanks! But was wondering… is there anything special about this particular one? The Praxians seem to really like it...”

“Nothing particularly special to me.” Mirage replied. “However, I feel you may get a better answer if you were to ask a Praxian.”

“I’m not close enough to them.” Jazz frowned. “And Prowler didn’t say anything when he saw it, so I’m not sure where I’d get asking him.”

“Couldn’t hurt to ask. You could always ask Smokescreen, too.”

“Huh.” Smokescreen. That’s right, he existed. While Jazz wouldn’t say that they were friends, they knew each other well enough to be on each others Christmas card list, and he was Prowls brother. “I guess I can, yeah.”

Just down the hallway found Smokescreen in his office with Prowl, a stack of datapads on the desk in between them.

“You’ve got to stop being so fast.” Smokescreen desperately begged. “Please, Primus, please, we’re running out of things to give you to do.”

“Worried you’ll set off alarm bells in the Decepticon base if you give me too much?”

“It will give away your special piece of hardware instantly.” Smokescreen tapped his head. “As we’ve agreed before, we’d very much rather that did not happen, yes?”

“You could give me more names.”

Smokescreen sighed. “Four is already more than we can get away with. We’ve managed to handwave it off for now, but the Prime has already noticed, and the rest of high command is starting to cotton on, too. We’ve got some hot breath on our necks right now.”

“Isn’t it best to just come clean about it all?”

Smokescreen grimaced. “Eeehh. I’d rather the whole faction didn’t find out. There’d be arguments. One of the other guys like you is on medical leave right now, the senate have been running her into the ground. I’d rather you didn’t end up in the clutches of Ratchet.”

“And?” Prowl prompted.

“The more who know, the more likely it is to get out. Your battle computer is far, far too important to us to let the Decepticons get it.”

“And yet you don’t let me use it.”

“I do not decide these things.” Smokescreen frowned. “The CTO does.”

“The CTO?”

“Yes.” Smokescreen gave him a look. “They decide everything that goes on in this department.”

Prowl made a thoughtful noise. “Hmm.”

“Anyway, moving on before we get treasonous,” Smokescreen waved his hands in front of him as if clearing away smoke, “Jazz.”

Prowls doorwings perked up. “Jazz?”

“I notice he has a nice red crystal.” Smokescreen smirked. Prowls doorwings shot up, pressing his lips together into a thin line as colour crept up his neck and into his face. “Shall I hazard a guess at what colour yours is?”

“It’s none of your business.” Prowl spat.

“Blue, then. Amazing.” Smokescreen laughed. “Does he know the story about that kind?”

Prowl mutely shook his head.

“What?” Smokescreens doorwings perked up in surprise. “You haven’t told him? Mechs are total saps for that kind of stuff. The whole soulmates appearing in your crystal,” Smokescreen mock swooned, “so romantic. And he’s even got white in his!” Prowl placed a hand over his mouth as he crossed his arms, optics shuttering as he tried to gather himself. This was absolutely not lost on Smokescreen.

“No way!”

“Smokescreen-” Prowl suddenly so very desperately wanted to blow their cover and admit they were faking it all - he just wanted his brother to stop embarrassing him.

“Yours too?! White or black?”

“Why are you so interested?” Prowl glared at him. At the slight falter in his brothers expression, his own hardened. “You did not make a betting pool on our crystals.”

“Just… a little… little one...” He mimed with his fingers.

“You are utterly unbelievable.” Prowl scowled, turning and making to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” Smokescreen called.

“I’m done for the day.” Prowl snapped back.

“But you haven’t even told me the colours.” He whined as the door slammed behind him.

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

Smokescreen had decided to take matters into his own hands. He’d just have to go and ask Jazz.

He knocked on the door to the room Jazz could usually be found in if he wasn’t out in the field or made to go on patrol, and opened the door to Jazz softly singing to the crystal as he carefully held it, brushing away invisible pieces of dust. He whistled, low and long, and Jazz briefly glanced at him, not missing a single beat.

“I’ve heard legends of this crystal.” Smokescreen began, walking into the room proper to inspect it. “Prowl gave it to you?”

“As a seed, yeah.” Jazz replied. Mirage had stopped typing at his terminal, clearly glad for a distraction from the monotonous tone of work. Smokescreen gave it an appreciative look.

“Has Prowl got one too? He wont tell me anything.” Smokescreen pulled a sad face.

“Probably because of that betting pool you made!” Jazz laughed. “He has. It’s blue and black.”

“Jazz!” Mirage mock scandalously replied, hand on his chest, pretending as though he did not utterly enjoy the drama unfolding before him.

“What?” Jazz winked at him. “A friend’s got a bet in, an’ I’m just helping him get his share.”

“Blue and black, you say?” Smokescreen pulled out a datapad and stylus, rapidly clicking and scrawling something down. “Ah. Blaster made that bet. Interesting – he’s the only non-Praxian to do so.”

“Is there something special in Praxus about these crystals, then?”

Smokescreen slowly looked up from his datapad at him in what he hoped was a convincing display of shock. “You mean, he hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh, oh my.” Smokescreens face split into a genuine grin as he stashed the datapad and stylus away again. “In Praxus they have many names, but one that’s easily translatable is soul crystal. They are said to be a reflection of your soulmate, if properly cared for. And considering you’re singing to yours, and from what I can see of it right now, it’s very well looked after indeed.”

“You think?” Jazz’s face had gone red.

“Prowl would be proud.” Smokescreen replied. “Anyway, I’d best be off, business to attend to.” Smokescreen lazily waved as he left. Mirage looked between the door and Jazz, who hadn’t moved and was vacantly staring off into space.

“Cybertron to Jazz?” Mirage waved his hand in front of his face after a few moments of spectating, silently wondering if Jazz would snap out of it on his own.

“Hnnuuh?”

“You’ve looked vacant and expressionless for the past few kliks.”

“Prowl...”

“Ah, yes. That is rather sweet, isn’t it? Both of you having matching crystals.” Mirage turned back to his terminal. “Come on, pull yourself together. We’re meant to be out on our patrol soon.”

Ah. Yes. Patrol. Jazz had forgotten that. He heaved a deep, longing sigh, and turned back to his terminal.

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

Prowl had decided to take his unexpected free time and use it for a little shopping expedition.

It was turning to winter in Iacon, and Prowl wanted a new, thicker blanket. In Praxus, he was used to it being constantly hot. Iacon, up on the northernmost pole of their planet, was by comparison much, much colder, and it even snowed. While Prowl did very much like the snow – it was a great novelty to him – he didn’t particularly appreciate the cold.

And, also, Jazz. He was embarrassed to even be considering this, but Jazz had been spending more and more time in his quarters. It only seemed fair to get Jazz his own thermal blanket, too. Maybe something soft to put in the other berth for him.

So he did a spot of window shopping. The weather was beginning to turn colder, summer almost over and the beginnings of their short autumn creeping in, and so many shops had already started displaying their collections.

He slowly browsed, taking mental notes. This shop had the thickest, fluffiest blankets he had ever seen, but this shop had very similar blankets for a fraction of the cost. Then this shop had some very beautiful blankets, not designed to be thermal and likely purely decorative, but beautiful none the less. He earmarked that one for Jazz.

He had reached the end of the street, carefully considering his options (after all, this was an investment he was making!), when he heard someone transform and bounce right up to him.

“Heya, Prowler!” Jazz greeted.

“Jazz?” Prowls doorwings jerked up in surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you here, aren’t you on shift?”

“I can say the same to ya!” Jazz teased. “Playing hookey? Or just get off early?”

“I finished all of my allotted work for the day faster than anticipated.” Prowl replied, shrugging. “So I decided to do some shopping.”

“Aw, wish I could join you, but I’m meant to be on patrol.” Jazz indicated back to who he assumed were Mirage and Bumblebee, waiting patiently in their alternate modes.

“Another time, then.”

“It’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

Jazz bounced on his pedes before leaning in and placing a kiss squarely on his cheek. Prowl felt his face immediately burn like fire, the spot where Jazz’s lips had touched prickling, and the two met optics.

“Ah.” Jazz placed a hand over his mouth. “I got caught in the moment.”

“Well, stop getting caught in it!” Prowl tried his best to keep his voice down so that the other two didn’t hear.

“Sorry, sorry!” Jazz squeaked, backing away and waving before transforming back into his alt mode and driving away.

Prowl placed his hand over his cheek, pressing his palm into Jazz’s kiss, his spark absolutely giddy.

It was going to become absolutely impossible to hide his feelings at some point or another, he grimly realised.

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

Prowl sat in his quarters on his berth, staring intently at the other.

Neatly folded on top was the blanket he had bought for Jazz, a jar of Praxian energon goodies that he’d noticed Jazz particularly enjoyed, and a last minute pressure buy of a banquet of purple flowers. He was ashamed that he’d been so expertly pressured into buying it, but buy it he did.

Would he do it? Would he be brave enough to say anything?

He worried his bottom lip. If it went well, then that was… amazing. Incredible. They’d been doing this dance for nothing, and it’d no longer be a lie. It’d be something real. But if it didn’t? It’d be awkward, and extremely hard to pretend. They’d have to drop the act, and then his brother would be right back to being an annoying arse.

Jazz sent him a ping, asking if he was in his quarters. Well, moment of truth, Prowl supposed.

Jazz nervously entered a few moments later, field oozing with apology. “I’m real sorry about earlier.” he said.

“Don’t worry about it.” Prowl waved him off. “We had an audience, after all. Think of it as a part of the performance.”

“Still, though.” Jazz frowned. “I feel bad.”

“Would it make you feel better if I did it back?”

“I mean- yeah, but, no, I mean-” Jazz flailed his hands. “Yanno?”

“Fine, if I… what was it you said, again? ‘Get caught in the moment’? Then I shall. How does that sound?”

“Great, actually.” Jazz breathed. Prowl was too preoccupied with the gifts currently sat on the berth for him to pay enough attention to Jazz, face burning, vents working faster, hands fiddling with his various bits of kibble in nervous excitement.

“I… got you some things.” Prowl gestured to the pile. “It’s getting cold, and if I remember correctly, Polyhex is similar to Praxus in that we have hot climates.”

“Flowers?” Jazz asked, picking them up and smelling them deeply. “They smell amazing.”

“They were free.” Prowl lied, shrugging. “I thought you may get more use out of them than I.”

“I’m sure I can spruce up the office a bit.” Jazz agreed. His attention next turned onto the Praxian goodies.

“How did you know?!” Jazz excitedly asked, popping open the top and smelling deeply.

“I noticed you seemed to order these the most at the Praxian bar.”

“You know me so well.” Jazz teased, placing the two to the side in order to better pick up the blanket. “Wow!” He exclaimed, picking it up. “It’s so soft!”

“Do you like it?” Prowl nervously asked.

“Like it?” Jazz whirled around to face him. “I love it! Thank you so much!” He held it close, enjoying the feeling of the soft mesh against his body. “How much do I owe you?”

“Owe me?” Prowl asked in surprise.

“Yeah. For all this.” Jazz gestured to the items on the berth too.

“Nothing.” Prowl waved him off. “I am in want of nothing in return.”

Jazz’s field swelled with… something that Prowl didn’t have a chance to properly analyse before it was suddenly tugged back in tight to where Prowl could no longer feel it. “Seriously?” He asked, voice muffled by the blanket.

“Seriously.” Prowl replied.

Jazz slowly sat down onto the berth, face buried into the blanket. “Thank you.”

Prowl felt his tongue tie itself into knots. He couldn’t speak. And so he stayed silent, perfectly content to watch Jazz and enjoy his presence.

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

Jazz curled up that evening on his berth, flowers safely in a vase on the floor beside his bunk, the cube of energon goodies safely stashed away in his subspace and the thick, fluffy blanket covering him. It was still a bit too warm for it, but he’d be able to stay underneath it for now. Just for now. It still vaguely smelled of Prowl, and it made his spark skip a beat.

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

“Fine!” Smokescreen snapped at his brother as he walked into his office, Prowl already seated. “You win! You win! CTO gives you the a-okay to be given old scenarios for training purposes. If that still isn’t enough for you, then battlefield wants you back, and we can figure out a shift pattern with them.”

“I knew you’d come round and see it my way eventually.” Prowl smugly replied.

“Yeah, right.” Smokescreen snorted in disbelief. “Here,” Smokescreen went to hand him a stack of datapads, cursing as he accidentally knocked them to the floor. Prowl knelt to help him pick them up. “As I was saying.” Smokescreen replied, handing them to his brother. “Here are your scenarios. And here,” Smokescreen handed him two more datapads, sliding them onto the top of the stack, “are your scenarios for this decacycle. Please, for the love of Primus, do not blaze straight through these in a single cycle.”

“I will do my best.” Prowl replied.

Prowl sat at his desk with the stack, slowly flicking through them. He set aside the tasks for this decacycle – his battle computer had supplied him with the information that it would take him two cycles at most to complete it, and so he had plenty of time – and focused his attention to the scenarios he’d been presented with. His optics widened in curiosity when he came across one involving Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee.

Hmm. Interesting. He wondered if he’d be able to find a different answer to the scenario, considering he knew Jazz… very well, and the other two he was at least familiar with.

He leaned back, stretching his arms in front of him, and stretched upwards to the ceiling. This was going to be a fun and interesting workday.

[mxstellatayte]

can you do oscar and quote 15?

oh. oh my god. everything about this. (i accidentally inserted myself a wee bit too much into this one bc i'm autistic and this is something that i need in a partner soooo... enjoy me not being able to find a partner that understands my brain being weird)

you're fuming as you step through the door, trying your hardest not to slam the door and opting to throw your shoes as aggressively as possible into the closet. oscar immediately knows that something is off when he hears the clatter of your shoes as they're thrown and the subsequent sounds of your socked feet stomping down the hallway and towards the kitchen. he knows that when you arrive home in this emotional space, it's best to give you some space for around ten to fifteen minutes as you calm yourself down from what is likely a combination of sensory overload and emotional turmoil before even considering approaching you.

he can hear you shuffling around in the kitchen and living area, the clinking of dishes and silverware indicating that you're probably making yourself some kind of snack. eventually, a chair scrapes on the floor and you sit down, probably munching on whatever you made yourself.

fifteen minutes or so after you've settled down, oscar hears you shuffling around again, ultimately finding your way to his office. "osc?" he looks up from his computer and he can immediately tell that whatever's bothering you has made you more sad than angry now.

"yes, baby? what's going on?"

"work was shit," you mumble, leaning against the doorframe. "work was shit, a bunch of my files were lost because the power went out last night, and bruce made me break my work routine. overall, nothing went the way it was supposed to today." as you're talking, oscar rolls backwards in his chair a little bit and stands up, opening his arms to you.

"c'mere. i've got you, baby. nothing's gonna go wrong here. you know why?"

"why?" you say, your voice muffled by his black hoodie. hugging him always calms you down, and you can't figure out why. maybe it's the proximity and the feeling of his body on yours, reminding you of what's real and what isn't, maybe it's the way he wraps one arm around your shoulders and one around your lower back, holding you close, and maybe it's the way the smell of him fills your senses. heck, maybe it's a combination of all three. whatever it is, it helps you immensely every time you find yourself in a state similar to your current situation.

"because now, you're home, it's my turn to cook tonight, and we don't have to do anything tomorrow so we can watch as many movies as we want." you grin, already feeling much more at ease than when you approached his office.

"that sounds amazing, osc. thank you." you pull back ever so slightly, enough to look up at him.

"you're welcome. anything for my girl. you feel a little better?"

"yeah... not 100%, but i'll manage."

"would a kiss help?"

"absolutely." you stand on your toes, pressing your lips to his, and everything falls into place. you're safe.

[vanknowledge]

Sometimes when I get attached to a character, I want to understand them so deeply it feels like I'm ready to crawl under their ribs just to see what's really there.

I've been thinking about Francis.

There's something strange, almost unsettling, about the way he lives.

In Human Revolution, he spends nearly all his time in his office at Sarif Industries. And he isn’t just working. His office is cluttered with junk that has nothing to do with the job, and somehow, there's a motorcycle in the middle of the room.

In Black Light, he lives in an abandoned movie theater called the Rialto. Even by Deus Ex standards, it's a ruin. In real life, the building had already been demolished, but in 2028 it's still standing, and even the locals in the game are surprised to see it. Then in Mankind Divided, 2029, we see him again in a place that can barely be called a home. From what we can glimpse through the camera, it’s just bare concrete walls and emptiness. Of course, we can’t know the whole space, but what little we do see feels cold and unwelcoming. Again.

It feels like he's purposefully avoiding the idea of home or comfort.

Before Sarif Industries, he spent a month and a half in detention for "fraud and activity related to access devices and computers." That data was carefully deleted. He was released, and soon after, he shows up working in cybersecurity for Sarif.

There’s a theory that he hacked Sarif Industries itself. Instead of reacting with anger, Sarif might have pulled him out of jail and hired him.

Another possibility is that he was freelancing. Maybe he was hacking someone on Sarif’s behalf and got caught. Sarif could have decided he was valuable and chose to protect him. Brought him in. Gave him a job. Made sure he wouldn’t disappear.

Sarif has always had a flexible approach to ethics. Threats, manipulation, sabotage—he treats them like normal business tools. In Mankind Divided, he hires Francis again, this time to hack Palisade.

But that’s not really the point.

No one else pulled Francis out of jail for five weeks. He seemed to have no one. Most likely it was Sarif, and whatever the reason, he was the only one who cared enough to do it.

Compare that to Adam Jensen, who had education, military service, and some kind of stability.

Francis has an empty file, a suspicious past, and a job he clings to like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the world. He didn’t walk away when Sarif Industries began to collapse. He was the last to leave when Tai Yong Medical bought it and shut it down.

He’s not physically strong, but somehow he managed to negotiate with Detroit’s gangs when everything was falling apart. As soon as the environment changes, he looks for a new place to hide. He’s extremely cautious and sensitive to his surroundings. And his sense of ethics is clearly compromised.

And yes, he dresses like anything but a corporate security executive.

Honestly, it feels like he’s one of those kids who grew up without anyone. No parents, no support, no safety net. Just figured things out on his own and kept surviving. Maybe that’s why he gravitates to corners, basements, and quiet places — places where no one expects anything from you, and no one looks too closely. It also explains why Sarif Industries meant so much to him.

[cruising-cats]

Adamlytic’s Relationship Chart!

these are all the connections to the major characters he has in Deltarune. Anyone else is a stranger or he doesn’t quite know very well to take a stance on.

In this post I’ll explain each and every relationship he has and why they are like that. If you just wanna look at the chart, that’s fine, I totally understand. But if you wanna listen to my insane ramblings, stick around.

Susie: Adamlytics got to understand both Susie and Ralsei like on their side adventure in Cyber City. Normally, Adam would be completely terrified of a troubled Lightner like Susie, but he was fortunate enough to see her nice side. He just hopes she’ll stay out of trouble, whether she’s in the Dark World or not.

Berdly: Adamlytics finds Berdly very annoying. He finds Berdly’s smug attitudes unbearable because he doesn’t have the smarts to actually back it up. In reality, Berdly reminds him of his younger self. Adam’s the type of smartass that can’t stand looking at his own reflection. Berdly’s just a kid, so this intolerance isn’t too deep. Adam would still be open to helping Berdly if he was in need of it.

Tasque Manager: He’s always respected his coworker for the dedication to her job. They’ll have the occasional chit-chat during their break. Otherwise, they don’t interact too much.

Sweet Cap’n Cakes: This trio has always been too loud for him to handle. He appreciates their business but their high energy is just too much for him.

Queen: As his boss, of course he’s going to be well-acquainted with her! While she may be hard to deal with sometimes, Adam knows that the Queen is capable of being a caring leader. Though after Spamton’s eviction, things had gotten a bit more complicated between them. Part of him is angry with her while the other understands it was merely business and nothing personal. Outside of their professional relationship, Adam keeps his distance.

The Addisons: Adamlytics blames the other Addisons’ selfishness for not stepping in whenever Spamton was clearly on a downward spiral. It sickens him to think that jealousy alone caused them to cut out one of their own. For this reason, refuses to conduct business with them entirely.

Swatch: Adam and Swatch have both been good friends since he gained an office in the mansion. The two have very logical minds and a drive to serve, making them pretty compatible for each other. They will occasionally talk after work hours, though they both have problems taking time to be outside of the workplace at all.

Spamton: Over the years, Spamton and Adam have had a very touch and go relationship. It wasn’t until Spamton made it as a big shot that Adamlytics started to notice him. Spamton spent countless nights writing up notes pertaining to whatever his friend on the phone was telling him but sometimes he had no idea what they were trying to tell him. Spamton frequently asked for Adam’s help in decrypting the confusing language his phone friend spoke in, knowing he’d probably be the most equipped to do so. Soon, they began to have these long conversations or just sit with each other in perfect silence. As Spamton’s fame and sanity deteriorated, only Adam was there for him. It’s been difficult but Adamlytics has embraced Spamton’s changes instead of rejecting them like everyone else. Spamton can be a little overbearing sometimes but Adamlytics believes he’s still the same man he met all those years ago.

Jevil: He’s listened to Spamton rant about him enough to write a book about the guy. He doesn’t seem pleasant, even if they’re just rumors.

Noelle: Similar to Spamton, the two have an unlikely connection. As the computer’s main search engine, Adamlytics frequently found her searching for information on Dess Holiday, someone he wasn’t quite familiar with. Though, he did his best to find Noelle any data on her that he could. Mostly it was just the same missing report page every time. He hoped that someday he’d be able to give her more answers to the question that plagued her mind: where did Dess go? Outside of that, he often found her questions the most interesting and gave them much more thoughtful responses. He hopes the best for Noelle, even if she doesn’t know he’s rooting for her.

Kris: Adamlytics doesn’t quite understand why Spamton’s so quick to take this Lightner under his wing. What makes the pair so bonded compared to any other person? Why does Spamton seem to trust this random kid more than him…? Adam doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he doesn’t know Spamton as well as he think he does.

Ralsei: Ralsei always came off as the reason amongst the chaos to him, so the two got along most of the time. And after the fountain was sealed and Adam moved into Castle Town, Ralsei been providing him with the most support out of anyone. He’s encouraged Adam to find purpose with this new opportunity. Adam has appreciated that more than Ralsei could ever know.

Alright, I spent way too much time working on this. I’ll go back to drawing like I usually do.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream's a software developer (I could see either as an architect for that large-scale view mentality or as the Senior level dev that keeps getting asked to move into management type positions and just straight up refuses because he's been doing code happily for the past fifteen years and doesn't plan on changing that now).

He enjoys his job enough. He likes computers and code. It functions exactly as told (for better or worse) and appreciates the straightforwardness of it all. He's a bit insufferable to work with, but if you have an issue, he'll readily help (just be prepares for critiques on your code in the process).

Hob works at the same company as Dream, but as a front-end dev. The work he does for his day job is kinda boring. All standard corporate style web design. No fancy scripts or fun colors. But in his spare time, he weaves Javascript and CSS like a wizard and creates magical, animated scenes across the page. Would it be easier to just make a video and play it on the page instead? Sure, but where's the fun in that?

Dream and Hob get paired together on a small side project for work. Hob does the front-end work, Dream does the back-end. They get on each other's nerves at first, until Dream spots Hob tinkering with his personal code on their lunch break and is honestly a bit in awe. He's found code beautiful in its own right (the way one appreciates a well-oiled machine) but he's never seen it wielded in such a fashion before. This is the moment he falls just a little bit (read: a lotta bit) in love with Hob. He was already starting to fall for that endless charm and wit of his anyways.

The company hits the first quarter of the New Year and with it come layoffs. Hob gets fired along with some other devs from Dream's same team (a younger pair of devs: Matthew and Jessamy). A fellow named Will comes along to help Dream finish the project in Hob's stead and Dream hates every moment of it. He misses Hob, more than he ever thought he would.

So, in an impulsive rush of anger and longing, he quits the company because how dare it toss someone as good as Hob Gadling out the door without a thought? He's halfway to the café he and Hob had started frequenting together when he realizes that he's just thrown away a career fifteen years in the making. But when he finally gets to the café and sees Hob tapping away on his laptop, he knows he's made the right choice.

Dream slides into the seat across from him and proposes that they build something wonderful together. So they create a small business of their own. They become a freelance web dev team (and steal Jessamy and Matthew as well) and with their skills combined, they take off. It's not huge, but for their size, they're incredibly popular. And Dream's certain he's never enjoyed his work more than when he's working beside Hob.

Later on, Hob proposes to Dream via a custom website with the most beautiful web animations he's ever seen before. And of course, he says yes.

(If you're curious about what inspired this, here's the website: http://www.species-in-pieces.com)

This is such a good concept for a story!!! I really really love aus where Dream and Hob are coworkers. Dream being the grumpy, awkward guy who hides behind his coffee mug while Hob is the popular, chatty one who tries to get Dream involved in fun office activities or socialising after work - it makes so much sense to me.

And Dream quitting his long-term dream job because he's mad that genuinely talented people have been laid off? I love it. Dream just has this inate appreciation for hard work and good art, and that's exactly what Hob (and Jessamy and Matthew) do. How dare the stupid company not understand that they're firing people who deserve to thrive and grow in an environment which actually appreciates them? Everyone is shocked that Dream has quit (not only that, he sends around an email to everyone in the company from the ceo all the way down to the work experience guy, outlining exactly why he quit) because he seemed to be the type to play by the rules and never leave his comfort zone. Apparently, Hob has really helped him bloom into a much more confident person, able to express his principles and strive for better.

And Hob isn't surprised, because he always knew that Dream had the courage, talent and ambition to strike out on his own. Maybe he just needed a bit of love and understanding. Which Hob is only too happy to provide.

Their work together sometimes involves long hours and stress, but Dream wouldn't ever want to go back to the slightly soulless corporation where he used to be. Even if he's tired and a little frustrated by Hob’s disorganised workspace, Dream is perfectly content. There's nothing better than curling up in Hob’s lap while he taps away on a line of code. Plus, he has a great time building their wedding website. Hob got to propose, so Dream gets to celebrate their upcoming marriage with his own expression of love through code. The theme colours are, of course, black and red <3

[xxaraaq]

𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩

masterlist

Sypnosis | Kyojuro is what they call a 'team player'. What would they do if they found out he was fucking his boss?

wc | 5.1k

cw | unprotected sex, office sex, power dynamic ig, cursing

Rengoku x black reader

A\N | I hope y'all enjoy, this is unedited btw.

If you asked anybody what kind employee Rengoku was, they would say nothing but the best about him. How he was the most understanding, reliable guy there was out there. And it’s true! He’s always there when someone needs him to be, helping them before they could even get a chance to ask. He was just the guy you came to with your problems. And he was proud to have that role. 

You, on the other hand, are not that person. As the building manager, you don’t hesitate to shoo anyone away if you think their question is even remotely a waste of your time. You wouldn’t call yourself cruel though, more like firm. You didn’t take bullshit, and that was one of the main reasons why your building was one the best in the chain. Everyone knew it, that’s why they kept their mouths shut when you ran things the way you did. You ruled with an iron first and high standards – which is why you still don’t understand why you would let him crack your facade the way he did.

He was only supposed to walk you to your car, a simple common courtesy. But then it escalated, and he ended up fucking you in the parking lot, making you scream his name so loud he had to cover your mouth as he gave you the best backshots of your life in the back of your Subaru Outback.

You didn’t fail to tell him that it was only a one-time thing – which was obviously a lie – but he just shook his head yes, knowing that you would be back for more soon enough as he waved you bye as you sped away.

Less than a week passed by before you demanded him to come to your office after his shift to clear up some mistakes he made on his paperwork. He walked with a bit more of a hop in his step than he usually did as he opened the door to your spacious office. He’s never gotten a good look at it, being able to count his fingers the amount of times he’s been you. “Close the door and lock it.” You say, not taking your eyes off your computer as you type away at whatever has your attention. “You called me here, boss?” He asks, coy tone lacing his voice. “Don’t talk like you’re a saint, it’s not very flattering on you.” You say, pushing away from your desk to stand. 

He can already feel his erection tighten against his pants, and it turns him on even more. Truth is, he’s wanted to fuck you since he his work day in the department. From the way your breasts would try to fight their would out of your button up to the your very presence commands everyone's attention when you, everything about you turned him on.

You loosened his tie once you got to him, hands practically moving on their own as you held eye contact. His hands came up to your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. “You gonna kiss me, pretty boy? Or are you gonna stare at me like some lost puppy?” Not one second later, his lips smash into yours as he backs you up against the oak desk. You moan into his mouth as he delves under your pencil skirt to stroke your clothed clit. You unbutton his shirt as he swipes whatever papers happen to be in his way onto the ground before hastily setting you on top of it. 

He wastes no time in pulling your skirt and stockings down, throwing them halfway across the room. He presses light kisses up along your thighs before spreading them apart to reveal your already soaking cunt. “Barely even touched you yet and you're already so wet.” He uttered, licking a straight line up your folds, eliciting a borderline desperate groan as you rested your weight on your elbows. He sucks and licks at your clit and folds as you push him head further into your now sopping pussy. You could cum right now at the sight of Rengoku holding you legs in the legs as he tongue fucks you. It brung out some deep part of you who loved to see a man on his knees to pleasure you. You thrusted upwards into his face as your core starts to tighten. “Fuckkkk, m’gonna cumm.” You whine, legs shaking against his frame. He pushes your legs to open them wider, pushing as he pulls your hips in the air. Your cum with fervor, hand coming up to massage your puffy nipples. “O-hhhh shitttt.” You wailed, eyes rolling back into your skull. He sucked and kissed until you pushed his head away in overstimulation. “It’s too much.” You writhe away from his grasp as he sets you back down. You’d almost forgotten what effects he had on your body, the overwhelming pleasure he so easily gives you. “I’m not done with you yet.” He says, licking you slick off his fingers and slick. “I’d hope not, I don’t think I could find another guy on such short notice.” You sarcastically responded, still catching your breath.

“Y’know, you and that smart mouth of yours are really gonna get you in trouble one day.” He mutters, leaving a trail of hickeys as he kisses down your neck. You sigh in content, letting your finger waft through his fiery locs as he unzips his pants. You were caught by surprise when he suddenly lifted you into the air as if you weighed a feather. “You're gonna be good and quiet for me right?” He asks, lining himself up to your entrance. You nod, and he tasks in disapproval. “M’ gonna have to hear you say it ok?” He says, teasing your slit with his leaky tip. “I’ll be quiet.” You whimper, clasping your arms around his neck as he thrusts up into you. He lets out a guttural groan as he bottoms out. You yelp at the sheer size of him. He bounces you up and down on his girth as you babble out in fucked out bliss. “So fuckin tight.” He says, eyes darkening in lust as he rutted into your swollen cunt. All you could do was hold on as he used your body like a fleshlight. “You gonna cum on my dick?” He asks, and you can sense something primal hidden behind his words. “Yesss, I want it s’badd.” You sob, crying out as he speeds up. “Nobody’s stoppin you, go ahead baby.” You obey his words, shock waves rolling down your body as you cum with shaking legs. 

He grunts, carnal desire ripping as he follows suit. He sloppily thrust up more to ride out both of your orgasms, before gently setting you down on your desk. “You ok?” He asks, pushing a hair out of your face. “Are you ok? A second ago you were fucking me like a madman.” You say, eyeing him up and down. He just laughs, which confuses you even more. “You got some problems.” You whisper under your breath, leaning back to assess your office. Stray papers everywhere, room smelling like sex, and desk disorganized. 

It was a mess, a mess you would a million time over, but still a mess nonetheless.

-Nene

[thessalian]

Thess vs Equipment "Solutions"

Well, that was an absolute mess. I worked more overtime, and yet I will have to do more overtime tomorrow because we're still in a mess. Of course, the issue is ... my ancient work laptop is finally protesting the harsh treatment.

I mean, it's understandable. It was old when it was assigned to me, which was a year before I got to use it, which in and of itself was years ago. We've had a lot of changes since then, and a lot of those changes have involved a whole lot of background processes chugging away, and that's not even counting the multiple background processes that have to be running behind the scenes for security purposes when you're dealing with someone's medical records. Plus, y'know, whatever they have locking down any websites we don't absolutely need for work, stuff like that.

I actually checked it out the other day, when my machine started freezing every few minutes at best, and crashing completely on occasion. Turns out that the poor damn laptop is using 100% of CPU, memory, and/or disc space most of the time. Thus the freezing while it waits for some damn background process to take a backseat long enough to let it do what I want it to do. It's a mess.

Thing is, under ordinary circumstances, this would be not that much a problem. I'd just go into Task Manager and end any tasks that weren't actually necessary. Hell, I Googled a couple I didn't recognise and most people suggested just ending task or just deleting them entirely. (Some Dell Document ... thing, I don't know.) Thing is ... I'm not allowed to do that for most if not all background processes. Why? Because I'm not an administrator, that's why. So my usual method of freeing up some resources is out the window and it's not one I'd mention to managment or IT anyway. So the only option is ask for a new machine.

I did that today - since Scruffman won't be my manager for long and Nice Manager isn't starting up for another couple of weeks, I went to the top - Head Honcho, with a CC to Other Manager. Yeah, there's another manager. I don't talk to her much but she's more involved with the doctor side; just she was involved in the talks about my getting an actual monitor so I figured I should copy her in. Anyway, I flagged up the issues the laptop was having, what was causing them, and what that meant for my job performance, then asked if a replacement could be expedited because Goblin, with her newer laptop, is not having these problems.

To his credit, Head Honcho even ignored his own Out of Office message to get back to me with a "Yeah, we'll get to that ASAP". However, he also said a thing that I am going to side-eye him about forever.

"If you prefer, I'm sure that [various software bits we use] could be made available on your personal computer."

THERE IS NOT ENOUGH NOPE IN THE WORLD.

First of all, my work/life balance is shit enough already without mixing the two on my personal computer. Second, it's way easier to avoid distractions when I'm on a computer that won't provide any - I know my limits. But most of all (and this is one I did not even intimate to Head Honcho) ... I don't want to use any single fucking bit of software I use in my day to day on my Phineas. We can only access our electronic patient record through Microsoft Edge, and I have been happily ignoring it since I got Phineas and finally got it to stop trying to open everything with that gods-awful piece of bloatware and I will not start letting it get ideas by using it on Phineas for any reason. I don't want to install Outlook, and that'd be a mess of complications in any case. My Phineas is my home computer. It is where I get away from work and the awful software I have to use for it. Nothing gets to sully my machine.

So I gave the explanations about work/life balance and sustained focus while I told him that I would prefer not use my home computer for work purposes. Because "That can fuck all the way off" often offends. That is not a solution; that is blurring work/life boundaries and I will not have it.

I am tired and I hurt a great deal and this is still not over yet. I am so sick of unexpected absences. I understand shit happens, but we shouldn't have a situation where an unexpected absence or two causes an immediate crisis. And yet, there it is.