#daily dose of obsession over this man

[chaoticgarbageblog]

Oscar Isaac.

That’s it, that’s the post.

[kintojii]

no one talks about how obsessed toji is with your ass. don’t bend over when ur in-front of him. no because he’ll fuck u right there and then. he wants to drool when u wear those tiny ass shorts that are only a bit longer than your panties. he’s so mean when he just randomly spanks u :( so harsh too. “toji — leave me alone.” “eh, i was talking to your ass, not u dollface.”

when you guys are out in public, his hand placements are bold enough to scare men away. he thinks that his hands are made for him to touch your butt and he’d rather die than witness another man lay hands on his babies bum. oh and please sit on his lap and maybe grind on him, he needs his daily dose of medicine.

[crescenthistory]

21. (During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time)) with barty n reader pls

(may I be 🪳 anon?)

hi lovely 🪳 anon, finally i got around to your request<33 i made them have an established relationship because i craved bf!barty, hope it still scratches your itch hihi. enjoy your daily dose of barty!

Prompt: 21. During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time) from this list

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: not proofread, smut (mdni), vaguely described smut, fem!reader, sexual jokes, aftercare, accidental blood kink, scratching, established relationship, praise kink, multiple orgasms, soft!barty, barty is a masochist, reader almost cries, cursing, reader is (jokingly) mean to him and he loves it, the l word is said a lot

Note: i am so soft for this man

If there was one way to describe your relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior, it is all encompassing.

Intoxicating, larger than life, obsessive.

He was not one to act half-heartedly in any regard, to both your chagrin and infatuation. It was not half-hearted when he more or less picked you out of the crowd in your first year, claiming you as his best friend without giving you time to react, dragging you by the hand into the whirlwind of his life. It was not half-hearted when he chased off any romantic prospect for you because they were not good enough for you, baby, even landing some in the infirmary if they dared hurt your feelings. It was not half-hearted when he finally crumbled under the weight of his own feelings, consequences be damned, and brought his lips to yours in the abandoned Slytherin common room late at night.

And it certainly was not half-hearted how he claimed you, body and soul, ever since whenever ample opportunity arose. 

You had no complaints about that aspect of it.

Which is how your skin was shimmery with a light layer of sweat with Barty’s lazy, toothy kisses lathered all over your neck as he worked into you in the solitude of his dorm. Evenings when you could stay over, the other boys were quickly kicked out by Barty, though to no significant inconvenience for them, as Regulus was more than happy to sneak away with James and Evan was in the middle of pursuing some hot heated Ravenclaw. In their absence, Barty’s presence easily dominated the room, hands roving all over your body as his whispers of worship filled your ears and anything other than him became completely erased from your mind.

Your legs trembled where they had him in a death grip as his skillful ministrations and attentive thumb brought you towards your fourth climax of the night. His name spilled over your lips along with a string of curses as your eyes clamped shut. You could feel his smile through his kisses as he worked beautiful marks onto your shoulders – just far enough down to be shielded from view in your uniform, your shared little secret.

“Fuck, such beautiful sounds from my best girl,” Barty’s voice was hoarse from the past hours, which somehow just drove you crazier for him. “Are you gonna come for me, gorgeous? Let go for me?”

No coherent thoughts could be strung together, your mind going blank with just Barty coursing through it. Instead you moaned prettily in a way that made Barty groan and pick up his speed, determined to coax more from you, just a little more.

Your hands had been clinging to his flexing bicep and tugging at his hair, but as your body came undone beneath him, you resorted to clutching onto his shoulders and back instead. Your nails, that you always kept long enough to satisfyingly scratch Barty’s hair and arms, dug into his skin for leverage, and you half-registered the moans of pleasure he gave into the skin of your neck. As your body shook both from your climax and the movements of him against you, your fingers dragged slowly down his back.

“Oh, gods– Barty–” was all you managed to get out as you clambered onto him, seeing stars. You needed him closer, just a little closer, more.

“Love it when you say my name, baby,” he whispered into you as his hips stuttered, finally reaching his own high with a groan. “S’good for me, s’perfect.”

You shakily kiss his shoulder, palms moving to smooth over his back you had just been clawing at, the movement instinctual and dripping with affection. Calming him down, gearing him through his own earth-shattering orgasm.

His movements slowed down, dragging the seconds out, before he finally stilled against you, collapsing with his weight onto you in that way he knew you loved. His hands that had been consuming every piece of flesh, every curve of your body, became almost painfully light now, brushing up your sides, over your arms, a silent thank you. You could read this man without needing to open your eyes or ears.

For a minute you laid there, regaining your breath while also revelling in the smell of him mixed with the haze of sex that filled the room. 

Then, Barty laughed breathily into your shoulder before retreating from his cocoon to look at you with lovesick eyes, propping his weight up onto his elbows.

“That was one for the history books.” His grin was lopsided, sweat still over his eyebrow.

You laughed in turn, giving him a slight roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t disagree. The longer you were together, the more you learned of each other, the more passionate your frequent trysts became. You didn’t think you could love him more.

Still – “You’re deranged, Junior,” you said through a laugh – you couldn’t let the opportunity to tease him slide.

Unfazed, Barty leaned down to press a lazy kiss to your lips and despite your teasing you had no inhibition with kissing him back, passionate and slow. “Maybe,” he said between kisses. “But you love me all the more for it. And I love you too.”

You mumbled an I love you, silly against his lips and you could feel him grin against you. 

All too soon, Barty pulled back and away from you, rolling off your body to reach for his wand on the bedside table to clean the both of you – and the sheets – up. You gazed after him with a look you knew your friends would never let you live down if they were here to see it, studying his features as he laid on his stomach, stretching his arm out. One of his legs were still tangled with yours, as if he couldn’t stand being completely without your touch. The muscles in his bicep flexed deliciously, as did the ripples across his shoulders and back, and –

“Merlin’s tits, Barty, your back!” you exclaimed, instantly snapping out of your daze.

It was normal for you both to be quite marked up after being with each other, especially on nights like this where you could truly take your time. Your hips often had some beautiful bruises grazing its sides, hickies covering your chest and collarbone, sometimes your neck if Barty felt particularly possessive. In turn, you loved giving him your own love bites and his shoulders and biceps often had small indents from your nails digging into them.

But this– Your eyes roved over Barty’s back, the usual pink streaks of teased skin that you left there were now bright red and razor thin, blood piping out at random places. There were many of them, trailing over and around each other, a bloody, angry constellation of your desperation from mere minutes ago.

At your outburst, Barty looked at you over his shoulder with a smug smirk, fingers finally curling around his wand. “What of my back?”

“I– it’s–” you sputtered, one hand wildly gesturing towards him, the other half-covering your mouth as you sat up to get a better view. “You’re bleeding, darling I’m so sorry.”

Barty sat up to match you, grabbing you by your thighs to drag you closer to him. A stupid grin was still plastered over his face. 

“Oh, I know,” he smiled. “It was so fucking hot.”

His words didn’t register with you as you kept fussing over him, attempting to sit at his side so you could see his wounds and his face all at the same time. His hand on your thigh squeezed as he continued to laugh silently.

“You’re bleeding.” You repeated, letting your finger ghost over the skin right beside a particularly bloody scratch. "Gods, I'm so sorry." Your eyes began to sting as they flitted all over his back, and at that Barty seemed to snap out of his humour.

“Hey, no, baby, hey.” He grabbed your hands with his, forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. It’s more than fine actually, I liked it – loved it even. You should really make me bleed more often.”

You stared at him incredulously, as if he was being particularly stupid, eyes still slightly glossy with tears. “What?”

He laughed even more at your confusion, which almost shifted the apologies on the tip of your tongue into scolding. 

“As I said, it was hot. I knew you were drawing blood as you were doing it – didn’t you hear how much I loved it?” His tone was teasing, mischief evident on his face.

You opened and closed your mouth at that, trying to make your post-orgasm brain keep up with the conversation. “I actually didn’t hear anything by that point,” you mumbled, looking between your hands clutched with his and his face, which now looked impossibly more smug.

“Right, that’s on me then,” he teased. You pretended to lightly shove him, but he used your movement against you, trapping you in his arms and dragging you closer to his body.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” 

“Was I stupid when I made you come once on my fingers, once on my tongue and twice on my–”

You pinched him, making him yelp in a voice so light it made the both of you laugh. You squeezed him in your arms, careful not to let your hands touch his still bleeding back.

“I still wanna say sorry.” You pulled back to look at him. The threat of tears were gone, but your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, enough that he simply had to kiss it better. So he did, lips softly brushing yours in a way that calmed you down every time.

“Well, don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, darling. I actually give you blanket consent to please make me bleed again next time. However you want.” He winked at you and you lightly swatted at his arm, though you couldn’t ignore how your blood warmed at his words.

“Shut up,” you mumbled before kissing him again. Your tone made it clear to Barty that he won that conversation.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you.” Barty pulled his lips away from yours, holding your face in between his palms. “Can I please clean us up like I wanted, now?”

You simply nodded, leaning back onto your elbows beside him as he quickly flicked his wand over your bodies and the bed. A sigh escaped your lips at the warm feeling across your thighs and stomach, as if somebody had carefully dragged a warm towel over you and immediately dried you off. Barty smiled at you softly when he heard your sounds of comfort.

You reached out to take the wand from his hands and moved to point it towards his back when he snapped out of staring at you and caught the tip of the wand with his hand before you had the time to use it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You looked at him confused. “Cleaning you up?”

“I already did that,” he retorted. 

“I meant the cuts, Barty.”

He immediately shook his head at that, prying the wand from your fingers – his wand, that wouldn’t even have been as effective when you used it – and giving you an almost offended look. “Nope. They’re staying, if I wanted them gone I would have healed them.”

“Barty–” you began to chide, but he cut you off.

“I want to keep them. Little reminder of you. We don’t heal the hickies I give you, hm?” His voice was equal parts teasing and affectionate now, as if your scratches was something precious to him.

“My hickies aren’t painful and bleeding.” You deadpanned at him. He just shrugged, as if your point was entirely irrelevant. 

“You’ll stain the sheets with your blood,” you tried then. 

“How unfortunate that I’m not a wizard who can remove blood stains without any effort.” He tauntingly waved the wand in your face then before leaning over to place it back on his nightstand.

You just groaned at him, hoping he knew that it meant you are insufferable and impossible. He did, and it warmed his heart.

“C’mon, darling,” he drawled as he snuck back up beside you, pulling the duvet around the two of you, creating your own perfect cocoon. “You should be flattered, if anything.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but still pulled him further into your arms, limbs entangling and bare chests pressed against each other. A relaxed sigh escaped you, indicating that you were in no way actually indignant. 

“Just don’t want you to be in pain, B.” Your hand moved up to play with his hair, culprits lightly scratching at the nape of his neck.

Barty’s eyes softened at that and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “‘S not painful, love, I’m good. I’m all good.” His words were whispered against your skin. You closed your eyes at the sensation, the safety of it all.

“You sure?”

“I swear it.”

You hummed, relenting, and finally buried your face in his neck as he pulled you closer. Sporadic kisses were pressed into your hair, your shoulder, as you continued with your soft conversation filled with praises and small declarations of love. You didn’t notice you were beginning to slip away before your breath slowed against Barty’s skin and he glanced down, smiling when he saw your sleeping form. His fingers drawing patterns on your back spelled out I love you as he kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[animehideout]

Could you please do who falls first and who falls harder with jjk men - and how they would deal with falling in love? Like what would they be like. Sorry if that's too specific

JJK men, who falls first and who falls harder.

A/n: Thank you sweetheart for this cute reaction, I hope you enjoy it 💙

Characters: Gojo Satoru - Toji Fushiguro - Ryomen Sukuna - Nanami Kento - Itadori Yuji

Gojo Satoru : Falls harder.

You'd be the first to fall in love with him, considering how gorgeous he is anyone would definitely develop a crush on him, including you. But you fell not only for his looks but also his teasing and goofy personality. But man would fall harder for you, the thing is he doesn't realize it..yet. I think Satoru would be confused and lost as hell.

He's not used to falling in love with someone, he's only used to people/ women going crazy over him. So him experiencing love and strong feelings for someone would throw him off shore, and the thought of you would consumer his mind. He'd try had to avoid the thought of you, to get you off his mind. Tries to convince himself that love isn't for him, and that those feelings are just shallow and would fade away. He'd think that he wouldn't be a good partner and that he's got more important things to deal with , like his job since he's the strongest. But the more he fights his feelings back, the more they grow stronger. He'd uncontrollably get jealous when another guy gets near you. He'll catch himself getting really angry if a man makes you laugh. Sometimes, he'll catch himself smiling like a dork over your messages, pictures or simply when he sees you doing the smallest daily things, like breathing. He'd get a very strong urge to protect you and keep you safe. He's good at hiding his feelings though, you wouldn't guess that he loves you back.

Even though he's an overly confident guy, he'd be like a lost puppy and seeks help from no other than Geto. He truly suck at facing his feelings, so Suguru will help him realize and accept them, he will also hel him through the whole thing like how to properly confess without making it awkward or messing it up.

Toji Fushiguro: Falls harder.

He wouldn't notice you at first, but once you started proving yourself and flirting with him since you have the fattest crush on him, man would become obsessed with you. He's into strong and confident women, so the fact that you took the initiative and shown you're into him, he'd fall hard for you too.

Even though both of you didn't fully and officially confess yet, he'd act as if you're dating. He'd become overprotective, very possessive of you and gets jealous easily. He'd start physical fights with guys who get near you. Toji would be very touchy with you, gives you your daily dose of pick up lines, compliments, random winks and delicate touches. He has no problem accepting his feelings for you, and he's always ready to get into a relationship as long as you're a real and the right one. I feel like despite his flirty nature, he's take his time and tries to get to know you better, on a deep level. He believes that the spark and sexual tension that comes from flirting is 100% necessary to keep both of you interested and to make things entertaining and spicy.

When he's 100% sure you're the right one, he'd casually ask you out , he's very confident at it, especially that he knows you're the one who started it at first.

Ryomen Sukuna: Falls first.

If Sukuna wants something, he'll get it no matter what. One look is enough for him to claim you. It's love at first sight, well more like obsession at first sight. If you smile at him or show him the slightest and smallest interest ( not necessarily ), he'll consider it as a green light to own you. You basically belong to him but you don't know yet. He'd kill anyone who dares to touch you in a way he doesn't approve of. He doesn't really think that he might scare you away, because he believes you have nowhere to hide or run away from him. He's a yandere when he's in love, a toxic one to be specific. He wouldn't hurt you physically but man would hurt those who are close to you. He wouldn't beg for your love but he aspires to make you beg for him. He wants you, he wants to have you and make you need him, as if your whole existence depends on him.

Sukuna knows how to play, he's got them plans. He knows how to drive you willingly to his web, to make you crawl to him as if he casted a love spell on you. He surely falls first but makes you fall x10 for him.

Nanami Kento: Falls first.

100% knows how to handle falling in love with someone. His heart would start beating fast yes but he wouldn't get nervous or panic around you. He wouldn't scare you away. He'd know how to treat you. Nanami doesn't have any intentions to make you fall for him, he believes that love shouldn't be forced so he'd admire you and love you respectfully and gently, but you'd end up falling in love with him any way, I mean who wouldn't?.

He's got natural, inviting charms, that make anyone crave to be with him. He's so calm around you, treats you with extra care and softness. He'd offer to help you even with the smallest and easiest tasks, he'd protect you, offers his jacket when the weather gets cold, walks you home late at night, and respects your boundaries. You wouldn't notice he's in love with you because he's a natural gentleman.

He'd shoot his shot though, patiently waits for the perfect moment to confess his emotions towards you, without pressuring you. He would make the whole environment, place, time, and the way he talks, comfortable as much as possible. Nanami would be surprised when you don't reject his feelings and tell him that feeling is mutual, he's a humble man. When you start dating, nothing would change, he's so mature and knows well how to treat you, and asks for consent first before doing anything.

Itadori Yuji: Falls first + falls harder.

No matter how much you love Yuji, he'll always love you more. He's a ball of joy, his feelings would start with a small crush, but he lets it grow into stronger feelings without realizing it untill he's drowning in your love. He'd be nervous at first, then starts getting really excited when he embraced the fact that he's a lover boy. He got more comfortable, acts extra friendly to you, makes sure to take a really good care of you, brings you your favorite snacks.

His cute actions, stimulated something in you, and made you fall in love with him. Yuji doubles and triples texts, call you randomly just to hear your voice and make sure you're fine. He cares too much, and isn't afraid to show his feelings even in front of others. He gets super energetic around you, makes you laugh all the time, and he ia there for you whenever you need him. You would be the one to ask him out first, cutie baby would be over the moon, the happiest man alive. He couldn't believe it at first, he'll look at you in confusion, literally stunned. Yuji Got no filter, he isn't shy or ashamed to let his feelings control his actions, if he feels a certain way, then he'll let it show. Yuji is definitely boyfriend material, he'll make you really happy and his love for you would grow more powerful day by day.

[ybklix]

somebody’s watching me

♱‧₊˚.pairing: lee minho x camgirl!femreader ⋆⁺₊✧ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: Meeting a mysterious and secretive man excites every part of you, yet without you realizing it, he watches you from his window on a lonely night, not aware that it would ignite a new behavior in him. ⋆｡°⛧ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: MDNI, smut, stalker & soft dom minho, perv and obsessive tendencies, voyeurism, mention of sex worker, teasing, overstimulation, sextape, fingering, masturbation, cunnilingus, chocking, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names, slight dirty talk, cumplay, cumshoot, sex toys, mention of mental illness. ⭒₊ ⊹✩₊˚.₊ ⊹⭒ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 18.5k

♬⋆.˚ somebody’s watching me by rockwell 🕸️ every breath you take by the police

(𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 '𝟮𝟰) - 𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 02: psycho

It was such a lonely night, he didn’t know exactly why he felt that way, besides the obvious fact that he was alone; he came home alone, just like any other day of his life, being greeted by no one but the sweet and warm company of 3 felines, which was more than enough for him, but Lee Minho had already gotten so used to that. He arrived tired from his work, with no thoughts in his mind and acting more automatically with his routine: getting to his apartment, taking a shower and trying to relax, abandoning the immensity of thoughts that flooded his head more and more like annoying voices repeating the same thing over and over again, what was he doing with his life and the existential question if it was really worth what he was doing, he was an adult, an average man, seemingly normal to everyone’s eyes, but he was hiding his own demons and secrets, as he was no longer a proper guy, he was a private detective working in one or another questionable job, making him live in the shadows because, despite his tough image, he lived in uncertainty and in the indescribable fear of humanity, Minho had seen so much that he was not proud of, and that made him think that he was a terrible person… sometimes he felt too much and sometimes he was just a completely heartless guy doing his job.

It was hard for him to live before society as an average man, living alone, a citizen blending in among the people, but his real hidden life was more than that. He gave up working for justice long ago just for a little money, leading him to have the apartment of his dreams in one of the best and safest areas of the city… but sometimes he wondered at what cost, if he never felt satisfied, much less safe, he didn’t even trust his own shadow. He was recruited years ago for his incredible finding ability and among other things, Lee Minho was a damn modern ninja, he knew how to fight, kill, and was so stealthy and clean with his moves, but none of that caused him pride, sometimes he wondered, what did he need in his life to experience even the true sentiment of feeling fulfilled.

Minho sighed, he really didn’t understand why the sudden feeling of wanting to fill his life. But there he was again questioning himself. His alarm suddenly rang, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and instantly silenced it, he grimaced, knowing exactly what it referred to… it was his medication time. His job was not easy, he was rolling in money doing favors and special missions… in exchange for a bit of his deteriorating mental health, post trauma and stress were real, he used to go to the psychiatrist on Thursdays and had his special medication to get back to being the same average and functional man… otherwise he would go crazy, or at least he thought so. Anxiety, paranoia, and small episodes of delirium that were labeled as schizophrenia and certain antisocial personality traits accompanied a poor Minho. His doctor warned him that he could not live alone, that he feared he would suddenly suffer a psychotic break and he knew the risk of being given pills without keeping track of them so every day he visited his doctor for his daily dose. Minho was a patient of psychiatrist Dr. Kim, a patient of very detailed importance, and his curiosity about him grew every day because deep down he felt that there was something in Minho that he needed to work on better… but Minho’s money was also very important, enough to shut him up, plus he was a little afraid of him because of the dangerous work that Lee Minho was involved in.

He took the small plastic bag with his pills out of his jeans pocket, put them in the palm of his hand, and looked at them, a combination of antipsychotics and antidepressants… knowing what he was taking put him even more in a loop of emotions, it depressed him to know he was dependent on drugs in his youth, he was unhappy and the constant fear of having no purpose ate at him again, the anxiety returned, over thinking if he was doing the right thing, if this was what his life should be or if he was wasting his potential, Minho was a killing machine and a lethal weapon of intelligence gathering, he was agile, stealthy, clean, smart and cunning. He was a modern-day spy and ninja.

Minho bit his lip, hesitating whether to take his medication or leave it for that night…. he saw his cat rubbing between his feet… and abruptly and suddenly closed his hand, deciding not to take them that day. He wanted to feel normal, a young man of almost thirty, living alone, enjoying his night because his heavy work was over, so far Minho had no mission and just the one he had finished had left him so economically rewarded as to take his things and run away on vacation… but no he didn’t exactly want that, he felt he wanted to enjoy his solitude, his apartment, he was a bit antisocial, he didn’t feel like socializing with people, he wanted to feel normal and his mind spun thinking about what a normal man at his age could do.

He sighed again, this time audibly, tossing the pills on his desk almost contemptuously, his medication was putting him to sleep, making him feel out of himself, or at least that’s what he felt. The silence made him hopelessly uncomfortable, making him nervous, and he ran to his living room only to turn on the television, letting himself watch the news channel, just to hear something more than his constant and disturbing thoughts; he didn’t pay attention to the TV and kept walking in the darkness of his apartment, he had forgotten to turn on the lights, he was about to do it but the impulse of wanting to be illuminated by the city and the night took over him, suddenly opening the curtains of his big window, his mind went from one thought to another, while he opened the curtain he thought of ordering some dinner and watching a movie, doing little things that someone sane and healthy would do, without getting carried away by the calming effect of the medication that would put him to bed in seconds. He was going to have energy, maybe drink alcohol, he hadn’t consumed it in a long time because he was on medication… but every one of his thoughts ceased just as he saw you.

For the first time in a long time his mind experienced silence and tranquility, for the first time in a long time each of his senses awoke to something unrelated to his work.

In front of his window was another apartment building, popular for being an old and exclusive building where most of its residents were older people, adults with families, businessmen, and people with money, it was a serious building, and it was so rare to see a young woman alone living in that building… unless of course, you were a young newlywed living in your first kind of ‘home’, Minho knew everything about the area he lived in, he knew what each of his neighbors did and who were the people who lived in his apartment building, not because he was sociable and knew them casually… but he knew every detail because of his careful, suspicious and obsessive personality. His doctor wanted to call it something else… one more diagnosis to his list instead of just calling it something characteristic of the intelligent, investigative nature of his personality, because clearly, the behavior was not normal. But Minho knew little about his neighbors in the building across the street, he knew the names of some, and their occupations, and he knew enough to not consider anyone a threat or something he should be on the lookout for… or have an episode of paranoia. He knew of the one young man who lived there at 221-B who looked about his age range named Han Jisung, who was the son of a major millionaire, who moved there because that street meant money, status, and elite and that Jisung would bump into Minho from time to time on his morning jogs, acting friendlier than Minho could stand since they were the same age and the only young men on the street.

He flicked his eyeballs in a quick glance at the windows of the people across the street, disinterested and ready to continue on his way through his home… but something, in particular, stopped him from moving forward, something so captivated his gaze that it made him remain in shock, stopping his gaze on that fixed point, transfixed in his spot as he opened his big round eyes, shocked and absorbed at what was going on in that apartment and what he witnessed that night of which suddenly became uncommon and exciting.

Minho licked his lips, unable to believe it and unable to take his eyes off that window, the movements of his eyes were fast and agile catching every detail of what was happening in that apartment… for the first time in a long time, thousands of sensations exploded inside him, unknown sensations beyond the adrenaline of the constant danger and fear in his daily work, beyond the mental illnesses that were bringing him down every day… it was thrilling, exciting, forbidden and kinky. Who are you…? It was the only thing that crossed his mind as you took his breath away. It was a beautiful girl, the silhouette of her, naked on her bed, with her body illuminated in what seemed to be an led light recording, it was you, a stranger to Minho, completely without the slightest idea that they could see you because you trusted the seller saying that your window was one of those where you could not see inside during the night, so you had just moved in and you were making your typical adult content, pornographic and dirty which generated you an exaggerated amount of money.

Minho was hiding in the dark, watching you, analyzing your every move with curiosity as if he was witnessing a woman’s naked body for the first time as if he was discovering pornography and living in shame of being discovered, starting to excite his manly body… you were making him question, when was the last time he had felt this sexually aroused, when was the last time he had masturbated out of boredom, and excitement, the last time he had fantasized or desired someone, the last time he had been intimate, had sex… possessed another woman’s body for pleasure. He cursed his antidepressants, thinking it was obvious that the adverse effects from his long-term medication were affecting him, diminishing his libido.

He watched you lustfully, his cock getting harder and harder, he watched your silhouette sideways, spreading your legs as you gently and slowly inserted a dildo into your cunt, how your head fell back moaning in arousal and your hair fell gracefully, how you looked seductively to the front where you gently bit your lip and massaged your naked soft breasts as your hand pushed the sex toy into you, Minho delighted, almost imagining the sound of your moans and then watched as you settled back to pretend you were riding the dildo. He not only examined your naked body but admired, what he could from a distance, your sweet, pretty jovial profile side.

He felt dirty, and lurid, like a hormonal young man magically discovering that a hot neighbor was the most typical and dreamed-of sexual fantasy, a young woman who lived for the adult entertainment industry… he felt like a man again.

He examined the room, there wasn’t much more than your bed and the tripod with what appeared to be a cell phone…. Minho deduced… you were either recording yourself for later, or you were one of those of which they were live. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to find you right now. He let out a gasp and felt his cock throb painfully choking in his pants, he couldn’t stop watching you… but he had something better to watch if you were doing it live. He cursed in annoyance that he had to take his eyes off of you and with bated breath and trembling hands —sensations of which deep down he was rejoicing in pleasure and happiness that he could feel alive again and not like some kind of inhuman, unhappy creature— he grabbed his cell phone, quickly searching the database of the building across the street, it took him three minutes to log in and find out the name and identity of each of his guests. Minho was desperate, his heart pounding because he had to find out who you were and what pages you were on, now. He was still looking straight ahead making sure you were there while he was in a desperate wait to be able to hack into the system.

He blinked suddenly, thinking quickly about what floor you were on and what your apartment number might be.

There you were. Shining before his eyes just as you were just now in your room.

Y/n — 223-B. Female. DOB: 11/02/2002. You were young, too young for him, to live alone and do those things, he thought. But he couldn’t let you go like that. You were the one who made him feel human again. He was becoming obsessed.

He studied your data and in frustration rushed for his laptop, turning it on and bringing it right in front of his window. Something in him told him he must feel like a maniac to be doing all that… but another part taking over told him it was feeling so good… to have a purpose, a mission, to find out something he was genuinely interested in. He repeated your name in his head over and over again. Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.

Minho rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustrated, about to act the fastest in his entire career so he could find out about you, in two minutes he got every social network of yours, your academic history, birthplace, and phone number. He knew that getting information took some time but he wanted to know what kind of services you did and there it suddenly was. Your OnlyFans username. Minho sighed in relief and again a rush of adrenaline filled his body, it felt so wrong but so right, he was so curious.

He filled in data quickly, linked his card with the data already saved on his laptop, and was impressed to see how famous you were on such a site… and there you were. Live. Minho looked up at your window one last time before he went engrossed to the first thing he could sit at and put his laptop on, his table. More quality, more closeness, and a close-up of your beautiful sweet pussy, swollen from constant stimulation, dripping and glistening, Minho felt virginal, a first-timer watching something so exciting. He looked around the rest of the room, white walls, and horror movie posters… you liked horror movies then, you lived alone as only your name was registered in the database... and you were so young making that content, it was wrong, so wrong he guiltily pulled his cock out of his pants and began to masturbate to your image, moaning through his teeth as he felt his pulsating erection on his rough hand, fantasizing about fucking you, about having his tongue trapped in your slick… he missed the feeling of masturbating, of feeling alive and with purpose, in a soft moan you made Lee Minho cum and filled his hand with his semen, you had changed him forever. But he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the other people who could see you and were doing the same as him.

Minho wanted to get to know you up close, but suddenly his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to hear your voice and know why you were doing it... who are you.

Minho was able to hack into your account and see all the content you had for free, but something in him thought you were worth every fucking penny. That night was like no other, he cummed so many times he ended up exhausted, his cock and hand sore and tender, scared of everything his body could throw out. That night Minho spent it like a sick man watching absolutely every video and picture of you, masturbating uncontrollably until he left his cock red from the constant stimulation… if that was what you caused him without even knowing you, he already wanted to have you all to himself… but it wasn’t all a dirty sexual fantasy, it was also a dirty dark obsessive fantasy.

That night Minho didn’t sleep at all, he investigated every detail about you. He found out where you grew up, what schools you attended, that you used to live with your mother and stepfather, you have an older brother a couple of years older than Minho, your father died when you were fifteen but your parents were divorced since you were little, you have a 12-year-old younger half-sister whom you miss, you just finished college but you started your OnlyFans account earlier this year. Since then in all these months your popularity has grown to the point of taking you to live in that building. You had two best friends, one of them lives in the city in another area, Minho knew their names, occupations, ages, and workplaces and that they had been your friends since childhood. You had a boyfriend at 17 but it was nothing serious, you lasted two months, you love the horror genre, and art and cinema are your real passions, but you studied and graduated in something more practical because you had little hope of making money graduating in arts, you gave up your dreams but now you were generating millions making adult content… Minho wondered if that was your dream.

You for your part, after that precise live streaming you felt a little strange… besides the fact that you overstimulated yourself and were recording yourself while masturbating, but you had an eerie feeling that someone was watching you, so you closed your curtain and decided to go about your activities with the window covered.

Minho saw your window with the curtain in place the next morning, but he knew it all by then. You are generally shy, but charismatic, you graduated with a high GPA from high school and were doing well in college. You come from a small town and no one but your best friends know about your source of income as an adult content creator, you fool your mother and stepfather that you have a steady job in the city in an office and send them money from time to time, you lived with your best friend after graduating until you just moved out on your own on Roxbury St. and you had a small job in an old and famous bookstore which the owner is an old artist who worked in movies, galleries and so on. You worked Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, 9 to 5 to keep your mind busy, to feel unashamed to walk down the street, as if the night before you hadn’t recorded yourself over-stimulating and self-pleasuring yourself.

Then Minho put his plan in action, his new mission was you, beyond fucking you, he wanted to hear your voice, to know you better, you seemed so cute, sweet, tender, and innocent to keep doing that kind of content, he was so curious about you, if at some point you will try to resume your dream by paying your own career, if you need help in something and he can give it to you; he was nervous, imagining your voice, your gestures, and manners… the only thing he had no idea about was your type, Minho wanted to make the best impression on you, he wanted you to like him, your last boyfriend was a skinny freckled guy absolutely nothing to do with Minho, but still he had some hope… he never considered himself unattractive, but it was little details he never stopped to think about, in fact, he had stopped thinking about women and flirting since a long time ago, until you showed up.

He smoothed out his sweater and entered the bookstore, the scent of cinnamon and apple filled him completely. A sound of a bell opening the door accompanied him, he looked to the side, finding the place classically decorated in dark wood and dim light only, but he was looking for you. You were tidying up the main desk a bit, passing the time, until you heard the little bell on the door and settled your body to look quickly towards the entrance, with the slight hope of meeting the grandson of the owner of the place, who was handsome and you couldn’t help but have a little crush on him, but you were surprised to find another equally handsome man, with an enigmatic and magnetic beauty, dressed in a navy blue sweater with white stripes, light blue jeans and white shoes, his appearance was clean, fresh and manly. You approached him happily.

He looked for you with his eyes, subtly without looking like a crazy person that the only thing he wanted was to see you and a smile without showing his teeth formed on his face when he saw you approaching him, accelerating his heart, making him feel like an excited teenager and finally you were next to him, a little more than a foot away, you smiled shyly at him, putting your arms behind your back. Minho studied your every move, your every blink, it was as if a divine figure was approaching him in slow motion, with a divine melody in the background, as if you were shining and an imaginary wind was playing with your hair. He saw everything about you, from your black mini skirt, dr. martens boots, your thin white strapless blouse and the modestly cute pink cardigan you wore on top, with a necklace adorning your neck. He couldn’t believe he had you this close.

“Welcome,” you said politely. Honestly, there was no one else in the store, so not approaching him seemed rude. Besides, he was a cute guy. “Can I help you with anything?”

Minho’s world stopped at the sound of your voice, his skin bristled, it was as if a beautiful, cool, soothing autumn breeze delicately hit his face, a feeling he had stopped enjoying so long ago. He was thankful he was wearing a sweater, otherwise you would have seen his arm hairs bristle and his skin change. He thought you were prettier up close, your makeup intact, your sweet, floral perfume scent, he felt he was dreaming for a moment.

“Mmm… I’ll just be watching” he spoke a little nervously, forgetting the last time he talked to a girl he liked, “Well, actually, I’m looking for something by Lovecraft and Stephen King.”

Your smile widened a little and Minho noticed the sparkle in your eyes, locking his gaze with yours. Bingo, Minho had hit the target. You took the bait, you loved horror. And it was true, an attractive man walks into your workplace, black-haired, honey-smooth skin, big, dark, sharp eyes, straight velvety eyebrows with a soft arch, long eyelashes, sharp nose and lips in the shape of a soft heart, he dressed well, smelled good and was looking for something in the horror genre, the quick thought that he was the man of your dreams and the love of your life crossed your mind.

“Sure, the horror section is in the second aisle… do you want me to help you if you’re looking for something specific…?”

Please say yes, you thought, wanting to spend more time with the cute guy.

“Sure, please…”

You smiled, walking beside him to the bookshelves.

“Anything special?” you asked.

Minho couldn’t help but seek to look into your eyes, in a way you found it tender and intense, his big eyes slightly wider, watching you, you liked it.

“Well, from Lovecraft I want something that's good for a 9 year old girl who likes horror to start to read, and from King it’s something recreational for me.”

But what a choice of words, you thought.

Your hopes went to the floor, thinking please please please, this girl is not about his daughter, he looked young, but older than you, plus he didn’t wear a ring on his finger… there was nothing wrong with him having a daughter, just that your little fantasy made in 5 seconds would fall apart.

“Ah, I understand” you pretended to look through the books, wanting to disguise your next question, “Do you have a younger sister…?”

“Oh no, well, almost” he snickered, “It’s for my best friend’s little sister’s present but his family is practically mine too.”

You pouted tenderly, relieved to hear it was just that; he was cute, liked horror and got along well with kids, it was too good to be true. Minho knew how to hit the target again. You loved horror and using a little girl as an excuse would make you remember the great love you have for your little sister and make you sympathize with him more. He had it under control; what he couldn’t control was whether or not after that little encounter you would end up liking him or not, but he hoped you would.

“Well, there’s this collection of Lovecraft stories is good and for you…”

Minho saw you with a small smile and you were interrupted by his arm reaching out to grab a book, passing close to your face.

“I’ll take secret window, secret garden, I wanted to see the movie but I think I’ll read the book first.”

He gave you a shy smile as he held his book in his hands and you looked at him engrossed and gone for a second… feeling a strange sensation in you… maybe butterflies, maybe restlessness, you wondered if this man was your destiny or why all of a sudden so many connections: you had literally just rated and left a comment 3 days ago on your Letterboxd account about the 2004 movie based on that book.

“Yeah… the movie is good” you replied gone.

Minho frowned, studying your movements, “So… should I read the book first or watch the movie?”

“Ah, never mind, I don’t have a specific order. I like the movies more. Anything else?” you added, coming out of your trance.

“I think that’s all for now…. thank you.”

“Well, let’s go to the counter.”

Minho didn’t want to get away from you just like that, in his mind you were somewhat more talkative, more outgoing to him and you had a radiant personality, just like the first minutes of meeting you but he noticed how little by little that glow was gone from you, like you were disappointed… he wondered if he had done something wrong.

It was obvious that you were a little glum, you liked that stranger, you didn’t even know his name but you saw yourself together with him having little dates… maybe it was a little exaggerated and hasty to think but, he looked young, cute and that’s how dating and relating after all worked, with a stranger you suddenly know and like, but you have a very big problem in yourself. As much as you wished you were a simple girl living in the big busy city, with your perfect makeup and perfect attire being nothing more than a woman working in a bookstore… you weren’t, you were a sex worker and you always believed that no man was going to take you seriously, in situations like that you just wanted to cry, you wanted the cute guy to pay and walk away leaving you to wander in your deeply sunken heart. You had this belief that any man was going to humiliate you or run away from you as soon as you confessed to him the real way you get money… and you couldn’t leave the job, it really was such a good economic livelihood, the money was exaggerated and you were only in that bookstore to clear your mind and not feel dirty all the time that what you do is practically filming yourself masturbating, plus you were a great admirer of the bookstore owner and the old man had an appreciation for you since he believed you were a good young girl, he looked at you with such pure eyes that made your day. Sometimes you thought you would end up alone, as youth didn’t last forever and people get bored fast, sometimes you thought you had to start flirting with people in the same industry as you.

Oh, but you had absolutely no idea who the man standing in front of you was and what he was capable of. He already knew that and more about you, he was obsessed.

You charged the man, biting your lip nervously, this time avoiding eye contact, you couldn’t help but feel lonely all of a sudden, you wanted a normal life but you had that social rejection for yourself, directly assuming that making money doing what you did was something shameful.

“Mmm and… don’t you wrap books here as gifts or something?” he suddenly spoke, meeting your gaze, bending down gently as you were still crestfallen.

You chuckled softly and looked up to see his big eyes sparkle.

“No… in fact no one has ever asked before, but for what it’s worth, I think you can use the bag as such, it’s nice.”

Minho looked at the details of the paper bag, decorated and printed in the bookstore’s unique design.

“Ahh, sure, the bookstore of the great artist Hwang Hyunwoo, it’s my first time here, really, it’s nice, I think I will come back… for more books.”

“Well, you only brought one” you smiled at him, playing along a bit.

Minho, a handsome stranger in front of you, laughed, adorably showing his teeth.

“True, but it’s because I want to come back” you blushed a little and Minho couldn’t resist, he wanted to let you know he was interested, give you those subtle signals, “You work here every day?”

“Mmm, yes” you answered shyly for the first time, over analyzing his look, his body language, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up, still you answered him, “I’m here almost every day, on Saturdays Mr. Hwang’s grandson is here and on Sundays it’s closed.”

He smiled broadly, “That’s good to know, thank you… since I moved in recently I’ve been trying to look for different healthy habits and relax, like reading a book, maybe you can recommend me more of the new stuff that came in” he added tenderly, putting it on the air that he just moved in.

He just moved in, just like you. Once again you took the bait just as he wanted you to and again you said subtly and softly.

“Sure, you can come over anytime. Did you move nearby?”

“Not really, I came here because I wanted to get to know the place but now I live on Roxbury street.”

Your heart pounded hard, it was too many connections and coincidences that you couldn’t take it anymore, you were almost scared, scared that someone this perfect and cute would suddenly come into your grey life. This time you didn’t want to play along, you wanted him to leave before you could get to know each other more, before he ends up horrified or inside a fantasy with a merely sexual purpose with you.

“Oh, I see. Yes it is a bit far, but… I hope you can come soon.”

Minho again noticed your sudden change, your muffled tone of voice, in his mind you should have said excitedly that you lived on the exact same street… but your reaction was very different than planned, leaving you more as someone unpredictable and mysterious, leaving Minho even more intrigued about anything and everything about you.

“I will. Thank you… what’s your name?” he dared to say, earning from you to look him warmly in the eyes again.

He knew, but he wanted your first meeting to be so natural and a nice chance.

“Y/N.”

“I’m Minho. It was a pleasure, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a nice day” you smiled at him.

Of course it would be a nice day for Minho. He talked to you, came closer to you, saw your smile dazzle his face and your fingers which naughtily played with your femininity the night before. From today he could not stop. Your new story had already begun.

You watched him leave and sighed as soon as he walked through the door and lost himself in the crowd and on the sidewalk. You sighed taking all the air out as if you were holding your breath. Minho, you thought, Minho from Roxbury, your exact same street… he must have money, he looked so ordinary, you mean, like a nice man, but his beauty was unmatched.

You continued your regular activities while Minho managed to sneak into the perfect spot to watch every movement in the bookstore. He sat by the window of the coffee shop across the street, so he watched each of the customers coming in, counting the approximate time they were coming in, all the while pretending to read a book, eat, and be on his laptop. Everything was going well, until a tall, black-haired man with a thin build came in around 4 p.m. and after half an hour he immediately made Minho uneasy.

Minho couldn’t see anything of him, other than his back, his clothes and his long shoulder-length hair, but to his luck, the man had parked his luxurious car right in front of the bookstore, causing Minho to have the license plate number, but to his fate, he felt under pressure, as if someone was watching him, as if the people in the coffee shop were watching him so he couldn’t comfortably perform his stalker activities, discovering even the guy’s dirtiest secret just by his license plate. And he didn’t want to go to the bathroom either to have privacy, he would lose sight of you and lose sight of the guy. So Minho found a secret way to look up the information on his phone, secretly putting it under the table and starting his search.

Hwang Hyunjin. He was the owner of the car, and probably of the store, since it was Hwang Hyunwoo’s grandson, and he was also clearly the man who came in and was still in the store from a while ago, with you alone since no one else had come in anymore… plus you were not long in closing, Minho thought since it was 4:44 p.m. and the Hyunjin didn’t get out of there.

He began to fret, to get annoyed. He shook his leg frantically in despair as his gaze darkened and he didn’t take his eyes off the bookstore, more than forty minutes had passed and Minho could only think of the worst, it was torturing him not being able to know exactly what was going on and what he was to you. If Minho wanted total control of you he would have to steal your cell phone so he could transfer all the information to him and see your every move on the cell phone… but he wouldn’t do that plus he wanted to know what you were doing face to face with someone else, every second that passed he was losing more of his sanity; he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you with someone else, you were already his, or so he thought. Hyunjin was rich, a grown man, he was married but shit, you were too beautiful not to want to risk everything for a simple caress or kiss from you.

4:46. Hyunjin was with you for forty-six minutes by yourselves. Absolutely anything could have happened in that time, caressing your body, running his hands through your hair, Minho wanted to murder him as soon as he saw Hyunjin get out of there and get into his vehicle to leave. Minho would have followed him… but the good news was that you did not leave with him.

Sixteen minutes passed and at exactly 5:01 you closed the place. By that time Minho was already waiting in his car, ready to follow you, since he already knew you were walking all that long way from work to your apartment.

On the other hand, you didn’t have the slightest idea that you were being followed by the cute boy you met in the afternoon that you couldn’t get out of your head, Minho… until, of course, then Hyunjin showed up at the bookstore and you completely forgot about Minho’s existence. You liked Hyunjin from the first moment you met him, when you shyly came to ask for a job and he was standing next to the legend, and his grandfather Hwang Hyunwoo. Hyunwoo and Hyunjin quickly trusted you and put you in the absolute care of the bookstore like they had never done with anyone before. You were grateful, plus you could occasionally delight visually and in all platonic realms with Hwang Hyunjin, as he was older, another well-known artist and a married man. You still enjoyed every second you spent with him because he was like a pure and cute crush who made you remember how human you were. Hyunjin was gentle, shy and cute, his flirtations were soft and subtle, never crossing the fine line between you and the great tension of kissing whenever you were alone in a room.

Hyunjin arrived that day to tidy up a bit since he would be working the next day. He stayed a while ordering the books and checking boring inventories when… you both knew it was a silly excuse to see you, and that put you in a very good mood. You both chatted. You helped him, always by his side, passing him books and taking the opportunity to brush his hand every time you did it since it was the only way you could touch him.

You were walking happily, almost with a dazed smile on your face. With Hyunjin you didn’t have that insecurity of him finding out you were that kind of girl who does that kind of content, in fact, you fantasize about him finding out one day and not stopping fantasizing about you, you fantasize about the idea of him touching himself behind his wife’s back, with his cheeks pink, shame and guilt on his face, with his hand on his cock, stimulating himself with pictures and videos of you that with regret he has to pay for. After all, your crush on him sometimes wasn’t so pure… is that, Hyunjin had a strange way of treating you, sometimes he would treat you like a little girl, tousle your hair and look at you tenderly, sometimes he would see you so uniquely and inexplicably, as if his dark thoughts were taking over him, you fantasized about the idea of him finding out what you were doing and stop seeing you as an innocent little girl and dare to take you and fuck you… but that was a thought that went to the extreme.

Still, Hyunjin left you more confused than usual, as he said he had something for you and would go and bring it to you, leaving… but you didn’t know whether to wait for him or not, whether to bother him by calling his number or leave it at that, but you left without waiting for him, acting even weirder, you were afraid he wouldn’t show up and leave you waiting so you just left as soon as it was your time to go.

Minho followed your steps, sneaking out from his car. He knew exactly which road you used to take, a lightly used route that left him in better total control to observe you. He had absolutely everything under control until, at a certain point, another car managed to get in front of his. Now, being the one that was following you closely, Minho knew exactly who it was.

For a couple of minutes you were starting to feel nervous, a little scared, as if someone was behind you watching your every step. You didn’t want to turn around, because you were afraid that it would encourage or incite more whoever was following you, a silly idea, for someone obsessed with mystery and horror movies, but happening in real life made your hair stand on end. You reached a lonely street, rarely occupied, making you even more paranoid, why you suddenly felt you were being watched…

Then something happened that almost made you run, you saw out of the corner of your eye the car leveling out as you were walking down the sidewalk, you saw the figure of the car pull over, but you continued your walk scared, holding tightly the pepper spray and your self-defense kit in your sweater pocket; usually you used to have nice and relaxing walks, you didn’t understand why today it felt so strange.

The guy in the car accelerated further, stopping a distance ahead of you from your walk, so you could recognize the vehicle and guess perfectly who it was.

Your racing heart calmed down a bit, and you took your hand out of your pocket, but you still felt uneasy because you could have sworn it was someone else and not him, who gave you a smile as soon as you approached the car.

“Hyunjin?” you said with a smile.

He quickly rolled down his window and showed a happy countenance.

You were glad yet you felt a rush of fear and hesitation, as a car passed by at a moderately low speed, as if they wanted to watch you, you followed the car pass by with your eyes and as soon as it was out of your sight your attention returned to Hyunjin.

“What are you doing here? I told you to wait for me, I had something for you. Sorry if I was late, honey. It’s about to rain, get in the car, please.”

The nickname made you crazy in so many ways and you obeyed him instantly.

Minho parked in a strategic spot where you couldn’t observe his car, but he saw every detail of you getting into Hyunjin’s car, filling him with anger.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know if you would come back” you replied already sitting in the passenger seat.

Hyunjin stared at you.

“Of course I would come back. I just forgot the little gift and wanted to give it to you now.”

You got excited again. You were as excited as you had ever been in your life. Hyunjin bit his lip nervously and turned his body towards the back of his car to take the canvas of a painting about 50 cm. A painting of him.

“You have an original Hwang piece” he laughed adorably, “Just kidding. I did it thinking of you, since you just moved in, maybe it will look nice somewhere in your apartment.”

You held it and admired it, the small details of that red flowers in a vase enamored your sight like never before.

“Hyunjin… Thank you, it’s beautiful. I’m speechless.”

You looked into his eyes amidst the poor light of the night. You watched his face, with an immense urge to kiss him.

You would definitely put it in your apartment, every work of Hyunjin’s is so expensive or was just on display that you found it hard to believe he would give you something like this. Hyunjin could notice the sincerity of your gaze and watched tenderly as you saw his painting, even appreciating his signature in the lower right corner.

“If you need help with decorating your place, you know you can let me know.”

You nodded, biting your lip trying to hide your big smile but your eyes sparkled of their own accord and you laughed softly as you remembered how unseriously your apartment was decorated, complete with framed posters of your favorite horror movies. Then slowly the gentle rain began to fall as it became more and more intense. Hyunjin drove you to your apartment building, ruining Minho’s plans and making him uncontrollably furious, his mind thought of eliminating Hyunjin right away… but he didn’t want to hurry, he wanted to have a real reason and not act out of cruelty and perversity; although he wouldn’t tolerate waiting until something really happened between the two of you. His stomach spun at the mere thought that while he was sitting in his car, squeezing his hand against the steering wheel, something between the two of you may already be happening in Hyunjin’s car under the rain.

Minho felt a slight relief as the little meeting of you lasted 7 minutes and Hyunjin started his luxurious vehicle. Minho hurried to get to your apartment building earlier, just in case his plan could somehow be arranged: if you didn’t show up, you had left with Hyunjin, or in the worst case scenario, you showed up with Hyunjin entering your apartment. You were thinking just the second option.

Hyunjin parked the car and you both remained in a tense silence filled with so many questions and heavy breaths as you watched the rain fall. You had to wait for the rain to stop for a while. You couldn’t turn off your thoughts, so you told him:

“Do you want to come in? You can help me put up your painting, you can see the place and judge for yourself, give me ideas for decoration…”

Hyunjin looked at you, roaming your body with his eyes from your thighs to your face, he licked his lips, about to say yes, with so many ideas in his head of what can happen with a young girl as pretty as you in the comfort of your apartment, by yourselves… but he had a wife waiting for him at home.

“No… no….” he whispered almost to himself, stopping himself from doing something he was going to regret, “It’s night now, I must go home and finish some projects” he excused himself.

You pressed your lips together and he noticed the disappointment in the sweet look he adored so much about you.

“But I’ll help you another day, earlier, how about Sunday?” he said without thinking just to take that expression off your face and please you.

You smiled happily nodding. Hyunjin thought that since it was daytime maybe his mind was clearer and wouldn’t be clouded with so many overwhelming thoughts that involved messing around with you. Maybe the clarity of the day would make him more aware of what the consequences might be.

You got out of his car with a smile when the rain stopped and went back to thank him, you were excited and feeling on cloud nine. Even if nothing happens, you want to keep him close.

Minho felt his chest squeezing waiting for you to appear in the corridor of your apartment, however and with whomever, but waiting to see you, while he was hiding; his pain vanished as soon as he saw you and quickly he also walked carefree, acting completely as if he didn’t know you and went to the apartment next to yours a few far and considerate meters away. You pressed the code to your apartment without realizing that there was someone else wanting to enter the apartment to your left… but the sound of clicking keys coming from that side caught your attention, as you thought the apartment was unoccupied and you only had one neighbor to your right, Han Jisung. You turned your head with curiosity and serendipity, finding something that froze your blood for no apparent reason, but then the impact became good news. There he was, you would recognize that man anywhere, his soft, shiny, straight black hair, his perfectly sculpted side profile. The boy from the afternoon who visited the bookstore. Minho. He was your new neighbor apparently.

Minho knew exactly that you were seeing him, his peripheral vision and eyesight of a ruthless, trained, stealthy killer knew it. He feigned innocence as if he sensed a look on him and turned to see you, squinting his eyes and tilting his head as if processing whether that was really you.

A rush of happiness came over you after you looked at each other in confusion for a moment.

“Minho?”

“Hey… Y/n, right?”

You nodded, leaving your door slightly open and walking down the hallway approaching him, which he did as well, dropping his shopping bags on the floor near his door.

“You moved here?”

“Yes” he smiled, “You live there?” he pointed to your apartment, “Wow, what a coincidence, we’ll be neighbors now.”

“Yeah… I hadn’t noticed anyone moving in.”

That was because Minho literally did everything today.

“Ah, maybe because you were busy during the day and evening.”

After a few glances, and tender and awkward goodbyes, you entered your apartment, unwilling to continue your night’s work, so you took a shower and relaxed until you fell asleep, this time wishful thinking about Minho.

Minho hadn’t quite moved in next door to you, it was a fake apartment just to get close to you and have an excuse, his whole life was in the apartment across the street from yours. He kept watching you during the night from his real apartment and he in his true element, started to take out all his professional equipment worthy of the best private detective: professional cameras with excellent lenses and zoom capabilities. He couldn’t help it, you looked so pretty for him enjoying the comfort of your living room, with the window uncovered; then you went out for a moment through the small balcony to enjoy the fresh and humid weather and aroma that the rain had left in the city, making Minho get some almost artistic shots, while he thought that kissing you would be so far his greatest achievement in life.

The next morning was also planned for Minho, waiting by the emergency stairs for you to arrive as it was time for your 8 a.m. morning jog, at least on the days you didn’t work. When you heard footsteps he pretended to come downstairs also wearing sporty clothes until you met casually once again. You greeted him happily and walked down the stairs beside him, as you liked to warm up your body that way without using the elevator.

“I hadn’t seen you coming downstairs also to go jogging” you told him.

“Really? I always go out at this time, while I’m still doing my work online, between 8:30 and 9:00.”

“Ah, you’re right, since I dont work today I overslept a little and go for a run later” you laughed, “I usually do it earlier.”

And he knew all those little details about you.

“And you already had breakfast?” he observed you briefly and shyly.

You denied, humming a soft no.

“You don’t like having breakfast?”

“It’s not that, it’s just that I skipped it today and wanted to go straight for a little run.”

He smiled, “Then let’s have breakfast later. How about at my place?”

You both jogged through the park and stopped to talk as you walked; Minho felt so free being with you, almost forgetting the issue of wanting to clarify what was between you and Hyunjin. And you felt good together with Minho, you were starting to like him that you came to think that even if your insecurity didn’t allow you to go further, at least you could maintain a friendship, like with your other neighbor Jisung, whom you only thought he was cute and you used to have a tender friendly relationship.

Later when you returned to the building, you shyly told him that you would like to take a shower first and then go to his apartment. You wanted to look nice for Minho, and not sit next to him at a meal agitated and slightly sweaty. He did the same, showered and dressed up for you to start preparing breakfast. You knocked on his door where you were surprised by an even more handsome Minho if that was even possible, fresh from showering, dressed and changed, smelling good and in addition, cooking by himself.

“Wow, you just moved in and you already have everything arranged? That’s nice” you commented.

“Ah yes, I hired an interior designer and her team to get it done quickly.”

You wanted to know what he was doing for a living, the apartment and getting it in order in such a short time was a crazy idea, but you restrained yourself from asking him as you knew he would return the question and you had no idea how to evade it not even 24 hours after meeting him. Minho understood that it might make you uncomfortable, so he wouldn’t bother asking that question until he saw trust, and confidence in your eyes, when he felt you were sincere and would be willing to tell him.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, so far you had what you considered important, Lee Minho, 29 years old and single, coming from the city, the rest was a mystery. When you were done and it was time to say goodbye you invited him to your apartment later to hang out watching movies, which he accepted with a mischievous and playful smile as he felt you were feeding his obsession and enticing him to continue.

You had never invited a boy to your apartment, because there was no boy to invite, let alone your own fixed place where you lived alone, but everything changed when you met Minho. You dressed up for him like you had never done before, with neat makeup and comfortable but cute clothes, accessories, your hair, everything, meeting him had awakened in you an unknown motivation.

There was something about him that captivated you and caught you too much, besides his cute looks and mysterious and inexplicable presence and personality. You tried to look him up on social media but everything was private and there was so little information, awakening your curiosity even more… why someone like him would be single.

Minho had stopped taking his medication two days ago and felt that only you were his new stability, meeting you and learning more about you distracted him from whatever he was dealing with, or so he thought.

He knocked on your door, after mentally preparing himself, going back to take a shower and getting ready for you… he was finally about to officially enter your life and your home. Things might be moving fast but it still felt good. It was a delightful pace to get to know each other. Minho was not the second choice because Hyunjin was never an option for you. After all, you recognized that he was married…. Minho was like your first crush after so long, one where it could truly happen and you had a vision… or at least just now. You were letting Hyunjin go and wanting to focus on Minho. Yet you were so genuinely nervous that as soon as you heard him knocking on your door you instantly regretted it, thinking the idea was silly.

Minho finally entered your apartment, analyzing and admiring every part of your space, it was better than he had imagined. You spent the last few days decorating the place and arranging every piece of furniture, with the help of your kind neighbor Jisung on occasion. For Minho it was all going well, horror movie posters all around your apartment, Halloween, Scream, Psycho, The Shinning, Child’s Play, Saw, The Grudge… he smiled, thinking you were a little nerd trapped in a hot girl’s body and in the shape of temptation. Nothing about your slightly creepy posters disturbed him until he saw a painting he recognized in seconds as a Hwang Hyunjin piece, Minho’s face changed in milliseconds, but you didn’t notice because you were walking in front of him, your back to him.

You were with your cheeks slightly red and turned to see him, you led him to the kitchen, just by the counter to prepare the snacks, but you were as anxious to even eat something. It was… like a first date.

“So… you like scary movies movies?”

You widened your eyes slightly, trying to contain your smile. It was obvious.

“Not really, I’m more into romance” you replied sarcastically.

Minho chuckled softly, seeking to look you in the eyes and in a serious tone said:

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You couldn’t help but smile, wondering if he had done it intentionally, it still gave you a bit of a shiver.

“Okay, Mr. Ghostface” you replied, Minho laughed realizing the use of the popular phrase, “Actually… it’s Halloween, it reminds me of happy times. But I love so many, I can’t pick a favorite.”

“Your happy times involve a killer who murders on October 31st?” he joked.

“Ah, so you do know Halloween.”

Minho was more into emotional movies, but he read all the reviews just so he could match you. A mischievous half-smile formed on his face, you were both getting more and more comfortable.

“So I guess we’ll watch a scary movie then.”

“You guess right” you sounded somewhat seductive, “It’s that time of year… October.”

You moved closer to him to tease him without losing eye contact, creating tension but only to slide your hand on the counter and playfully grab one of the snacks. For a second… Minho thought you were going to make a big step between you, but you were just playing around a bit.

By their second movie you had already entered into absolute trust and were throwing comments on the air about the plot or movie facts, Minho found it absolutely adorable that you knew so much about whatever it was you were watching, plus the distance between your bodies was non-existent. Minho had to confess that despite being able to murder mercilessly to do his job, horror movies were never his thing, but he did it just to be with you. You watched The Ring, Halloween, Scream and A Nightmare on Elm Street, you’d never been so intimate with a man in that way, being yourself after all. Minho was tired of seeing death, fear and fantasy, it was something he lived in real life before he met you, so now he wanted to see you.

“Do you think you can sleep alone?” you joked.

“Sure. I think you were a little soft on me and didn’t show me the real scary movies.”

You smiled. “You’re right. I hate extreme gore, I’m more about living in nostalgia, the feeling of suspense and a little jump scare. I mean, Chucky to some extent gives a laugh but the plot had all the people in the 80’s gripped.”

“You’re so interesting…” he spoke absorbedly, letting himself go and softening his gaze.

You were both still sitting on the couch in your living room and his sudden look at you made you shy and nervous… it had been a while since anyone had looked at you like that, even Hyunjin never did because he held back so much himself but Minho had nothing to hide, other than his obvious obsession, his real job and he believed he had to hide his mental medical conditions, but he was a free man to be able to date you.

“I think I’ve had you here long enough, sorry, I didn’t even ask if you could stand to watch more than two movies” you spoke nonsensically, flustered by the closeness of his face and his soft but piercing gaze.

“I can stand anything with you. I liked it—I like being with you, a lot. I like you.”

“Minho…”

It felt good for the moment: the confession, the tension. Minho couldn’t resist and slowly leaned towards you, you could see it coming and your heart raced, letting his left-hand cup your cheek and his handsome face come close to yours. You both closed your eyes and enjoyed the caress of each other’s mouths. A tentative brush at first, his warm and soft breathing play and the delicate touch of his nose with yours to kiss in the sweetest and gentlest kiss, a kiss that touched absolutely every particle of you that even made you almost unleash tears… you had never been treated this sweet before… maybe you didn’t deserve it.

It felt like a real fairy tale, your hands gently clutching at his sweater, your stomach uneasy at the sensation, your face warm and your emotions on edge. You enjoyed every second of his lips moving against yours, but deep down you were both scared that this would trigger an inevitable series of events and that would cause you to have to reveal your truths that you were struggling to hide. You could lose each other. You questioned whether you should tell Minho what you did, and he wondered if he should stop his unhealthy tendencies.

The sweet kiss gradually became more passionate and playful. You didn’t complain, you liked it, his tongue was naughty and slick, and your tense body relaxed, letting it lay back gently, causing Minho to fall slightly on top of you. His left hand began to caress your thigh and he settled his body suddenly, lowering his kisses to your neck, pressing just your center with his bulge which you weren’t sure if it was stiff at all but you felt it grind against you subtly, teasing you to perfection.

You were becoming aroused and Minho was reveling in your scent, in his lips brushing your skin, his closeness, your breathing close to him, he was reveling uncontrollably, again feeling the dopamine and serotonin being produced in him.

You never thought that someone could make you feel like that and that you could like him to that extent, in a tender way and desire him with all your strength. You needed Minho and your soft moan when he pressed your thigh close to your needy center revealed it completely. Minho smiled playfully once more and whispered teasingly to you:

“We’re breaking one of the rules for surviving in a scary movie… no sex… or how come that guy in Scream used to say that?”

You smiled, shuddering feeling how Minho was teasing you. Your concern wasn’t that he had just confirmed you were about to have sex, but that you took the importance to the little game:

“Are we in a scary movie?”

Minho kept pressing his crotch to your center and brushing his lips on your neck until he pulled away from you a little leaving you confused. You saw his smile.

He just wanted to tease you a little.

“I think it’s time for me to go… but we have to meet again soon.”

The next day you made up an excuse for Hyunjin not to visit your house, from now on you wanted Minho, that kiss had changed everything.

But your situation was something you couldn’t hide, you spent more and more time with him, you got to know each other more, you went places together, he took you out on the town, and he came to pick you up after you finished your work at the bookstore and you both talked for hours, it was so cute and it was something hard to hide at the same time, what you actually did alone when you said goodbye to him during the night. Besides the fact that you didn’t want him to find out about somewhere else, he seemed sincere, you thought he genuinely didn’t know how you made money.

And the more time you spent together, the more Minho’s paranoia grew. He wanted to quit, he tried, to be normal and not have to study and watch your every move all the time, but he couldn’t do it. Now he had gradually developed insomnia and on lonely nights he couldn’t help but break into your house, circumvent the security system and watch you sleep comfortably; the quietness in which your chest moved as you breathed, your body relaxed, your eyes closed, even though Minho stood there expressionless, watching you caused him so much tranquility and sensations. He knew he should stop… but he couldn’t, he kept watching Hyunjin closely, Minho joined Hyunjin’s wife’s book club, to flirt with her and slightly use psychological manipulation where she would think of infidelity and that would make her go back to her husband’s arms, Minho wanted to take Hyunjin away from you in a healthy way…. because if he finds out that he somehow touched you or has been looking for a way to do so… his next move would not simply be manipulation games, his next plan was to truly use his skills and what he was made of, taking him away from you forever, Minho still took a deep breath and calmed down, letting Hyunjin be a part of your life, but only as your boss. Minho was to be the only man in your life, the only one you love.

But his mind was all over the place, handling so many things at once and thinking about you all the time. Minho thought he only calmed down when he was with you, because when he was alone the constant fear returned, the paranoia of whether his plan and deeds had been clean enough to continue, the constant fear that someone was watching him, that someone might know what he was up to, he felt it deep in his bones and was suspicious of everyone… until he got to see you and the noisy, scary feeling went away.

And all he longed to do was sleep next to you, but somehow you always ended up pushing him away, creating more fear in him. You also awakened in him a fierce sexual desire, he would touch himself watching your content every night, he would steal your underwear or a lingerie set he saw you wearing in one of your videos and end up getting completely obsessed, he would cum fantasizing on you, he would use the garment to stroke his cock… Minho was crazy about you, but none of that would compare to the day he finally got to be with you.

He would leave little clues that he was there, slightly moving certain things in your home out of position… it was fun for him to sneak around and live in the dark, it was a meticulous game that kept his mind busy.

You began to notice these small changes, finding it strange, at first you thought the clothes were getting lost in the laundry but there was no point in that since you remembered to put them away…

But you decided that enough had happened, that before Minho came more into your life and it hurt you more intensely to have him leave, you decided it was better to confess to him what you were doing, so you spoke to him that cold night at your apartment.

“So, we’ll watch Dead Silence tonight, right?” he said, sitting down on the chairs at your kitchen island.

Minho was happy, but judging by your serious expression he didn’t know what to think now.

“I have to tell you something because I want you to know it from me,” you said.

He knew exactly what you meant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, trying to sound sympathetic, hiding his excitement.

“I’ll tell you something and you have every right to leave if you want to, because it might not be easy…” you kept looking at him seriously and kept your distance, “I have an OnlyFans account, I make content by myself, don’t worry, I’m not seeing anyone else. If you have any questions… I’ll answer them, if you think you should distance yourself, I’ll understand.”

You were nervous and Minho enjoyed every second of your expression and your tense body, it was a guilty pleasure, plus you agitatedly confessed not dating anyone else. You saw pure confusion on Minho’s pretty face, his frown was furrowed and his lips were in an ‘o’ shape ready to ask as he softly shook his head. Of course, it was all part of his act.

“What is OnlyFans? Why are you so nervous, honey, is it something bad? Why would I want to distance myself from you?”

Your heart pounded, you were ready for any answer… but of all things you never thought he would sweet talk you and not know what it was.

“You seriously don’t know what OnlyFans is?”

“I barely know what Instagram is, honey” he laughed.

You bit your lip nervously, you wanted to be just as relaxed as he was, waiting for the news, “It’s… a page where you pay to see adult content, people create content and…. I’m part of that. It’s how I make money, Minho.”

Minho softened his face, nodding as he took it all in and crooned a light “Ohh…” Then he watched your sparkling eyes and silence formed. You didn’t want to walk away from him, but if it happened later it was going to hurt more.

He stood up from his chair and walked towards you, placing his hands on your upper arms.

“I don’t have any questions. I understand,” he spoke and you looked into his eyes, “That’s no reason to walk away.”

You looked at him incredulously and let him lightly squeeze your arm. Now it was you who was speechless.

“I like you, Y/n, I don’t have to judge you for that.”

It was clear that in his time he had judged you… but that was how he had known you and he didn’t feel it was fair to criticize you.

“Are you sure?” he nodded, loving the sight of your big pleading eyes and your plump lips that Minho resisted kissing, he nodded, “Because I like you too and I wanted you to know that….”

Minho’s heart wanted to jump out of his chest after hearing that.

“Now I know and I'm okay with that…you’re already calmer?”

You nodded, but it was still hard to digest that someone like him still liked someone like you.

That night you watched the movie but fell asleep in Minho’s arms after half of it, but it only lasted a few short minutes until you woke up. He was holding you, finally living his dream, with your face and body against his chest, his pecs were comfortable but you felt embarrassed when you woke up and realized. You released your body from his grip and smiled shyly, ready to say goodbye to him… but Minho was lost in his own thoughts.

“I have some questions now…” he said, licking his lips.

You blinked, looking at him as you tried to clear your tiredness.

“Which ones?”

“What do you usually do… what’s that content?”

Minho looked you straight in the eye, intimidating you. He knew but he wanted to hear it from you. You felt like you were in a nightmare.

“Well… sex videos, nude or provocative pictures, that’s what I do.”

“Where?”

You swallowed nervously, “My room.”

“The only thing I don’t agree with is that strangers have seen your room and naked body before me” he blurted out, serious.

You looked at him. You didn’t expect that… but his serious expression and dark eyes pleased you. Minho couldn't help fantasizing about you with your body on top of his. At first, it was tender, but then something awoke in him. You smiled. You desired and wanted Minho like you had never wanted someone before. If he wanted it now, you were more than willing, and you were sure you would enjoy it.

“Well… you have something better,” you said, moving closer to him, cutting an absolute distance. “You can touch me all you want, the rest… they can only wish for it.”

And to think that Minho was exactly that, just like the rest, that he could only wish to have you, but his obsessive plan and behavior were paying off as you finally positioned yourself on his lap, seductively, with your knees on the side of his thighs, you played with his sweater and thought about how much you loved his big, worked arms, but it was rare that you saw him like that, as all the time he was so well covered, wearing a nice sweater, making him look adorably hot.

Those were the few times you saw his body…like when you were out and he was taking off his jacket and revealing his arms.

You fantasized about Minho’s body, his thighs were strong and thick, and his masculine build felt so good under your body, he alone made you feel uncontrollably aroused in seconds. Despite being a sex worker, you felt lonely, you only did it for money but everything was absolutely yourself using your body, and now… you couldn’t wait for Minho to use it.

You leaned towards him to take his lips, Minho was surprised by the speed of the situation he hesitated as he gently pulled his neck back but instantly kissed you back with pleasure. His hands roamed your body and you both delighted in the taste and feel of each other’s lips while the movie was still playing, the sound accompanied you and the light from it reflected brightly on you, you lasted like this for a while, kissing until you heated your soul and spirit, dropping your center into his bulge and rubbing you gently, almost causing a moan to escape your lips as you felt how big and hard he was. When you were both breathless and tentatively separated still giving each other little kisses, you suggested:

“Do you want to know my room? There’s nothing special about it, but since you want to know…”

You started to say playfully but were interrupted by Minho’s huge smile plastered on his face and him getting up from the couch with you in his arms.

Minho walked up to your room without you giving him any instructions as to where it was, and for a second, you questioned if you had told him before. His lips on you interrupted all thoughts. He admired the place and breathed in deeply the sweet essence of it—white walls, more posters—it was the place from which he had fallen for you since that night. You turned on the dim lamp light.

You didn’t say a word and let Minho act amidst the sharp breaths and piercing, lascivious glances. He sat you on the bed and leaned his body to kiss you while his hands caressed your thighs. You were so aroused, the caresses of his soft hands and his dominant, masculine presence on top of you weakened you in desire, his movements were smooth and intense that you could feel the slight desperation in him, squeezing your thighs as he pressed his lips tightly on you, as if he wanted to devour you, as if this was all something he had been waiting so long to do and was enjoying every detail of the process.

Minho once again ever since he met you, he felt like a normal man, capable of having his sexual desires, capable of finally being able to touch the woman he was so eagerly longing for. He lowered his lips to your neck and it took him great willpower not to bite your skin, he wanted to kiss you, caress you and make you feel good but at the same time he felt he had to be on your skin, he wanted to leave you the most satisfied you have ever been in your entire life, for sex to be more than sex, he wanted to truly unite with you, in his mind, his intense thoughts worked best.

Your clothes suddenly made him desperate, believing they were interrupting something very intimate between you and with a big smile and in a hurried act, Minho took off your blouse, causing his erect hard cock to throb painfully in his pants, he was so ecstatic just to have you all to himself and the mere sight of you, no silly cameras or recording in between, he was so excited to feel like the luckiest one to be the one enjoying the process of undressing you and being able to pleasure you.

You bit your lip as you hadn't quite appreciated how Minho was incredibly hot how he looked right now, it was true that the constant thought of having sex with him kept recurring in your mind but it was something you let go of and now you were hugely immersed in him, every inch of your body throbbing and messed up with just the beginning of caresses and foreplay, you had never wanted someone as much as you felt now, as if you were back to being an innocent and hormonal sweet girl again. You were a little embarrassed, if you had known you were going to have sex with Minho tonight, you would have worn nicer underwear, you were wearing your black bra and your comfy Hello Kitty little pink cotton panties with the detail of a little bow on the top seam in front.

Your new lover appreciated you for a moment to return his lips to your bare skin, pressing kisses down your chest, moving lower and lower and leaving you breathless, Minho nimbly unfastened your bra and became engrossed with the mere sight of your juicy breasts exposed, the delicacy of your tender nipple decorating your organ. He bit his lip and did not hesitate to feel and squeeze your breasts with his hands, moaning softly as he finally felt the softness of them, the firmness of your erect nipples pressed against the palm of his hand and dark fantasies were taking over Minho, remembering all those nights when he masturbated and cummed to exhaustion drooling over your breasts, for your femininity and naked body, he could pull out his cock and masturbate so he could cum on your breasts and pretty face as he so much desired, all his pearly white liquid erotically adorning your beautiful body, but he believed it would be pointless to self-pleasure himself just now when he had you when he was finally touching you and felt the most intense pleasure in pleasuring you too.

You on your part were feeling your panties so wet, you were so excited because it was the first time in a long time that you were with someone, that you were satisfying yourself sexually with someone else, for despite a generalized thought that sex workers must have such an active and turned on sex life, yours was not like that, it was so lonely, you were relatively popular among the community and other creators invited you to their kind of content. Still, you refused all the time, nothing was exciting with fucking strangers, and Minho for you was that cute guy who agreed to watch horror movies with you and with whom you longed for a relationship.

You didn’t hold out long enough and you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure Minho was giving you and slowly laid your body down, you had so many thoughts like the fact that Lee Minho truly was a man, because from the last times you had been intimate after confessing to the guys that you did adult content they went crazy and thought they could release any kind of fantasy with you, they used you for their own pleasure without even thinking about yours, they played dominant and even though you adored being ordered around in sex… they did it in such a different way, they ended up ordering you around for their own pleasure… but Minho… god, you felt so different with Minho, it was obvious he was also looking to satisfy himself with you but you could tell he was prioritizing you; most men would just drop their pants, rudely looking for easy access to you and have their 8 minute fun, or 5 if they ordered you to blow them off and their pathetic horny bodies wouldn’t allow them more time.

“Fuck, baby, they’re perfect—you’re perfect” he gasped, feeling your breasts, playing and pinching your nipple.

You heard—read that all the time, but coming from Minho you felt it was true. Minho was there, looking to take advantage of touching every inch of any sensitive spot of yours, you couldn’t even notice his intentions for getting naked, but you also longed to see his naked body. He delighted in every moan that came out of you after he tried a little hard on your nipples.

Before you could make a playful move with Minho’s sweater so he could take it off, Minho’s mouth on your breast unhinged you in seconds. He ran his tongue delicately in circular motions over your nipple moistening it and making it more sensitive, sucking and biting your skin, completely reveling himself in one and doing the same process on your other breast as his hand went back to gently mistreating your other sensitive organ. You took the opportunity to touch his hair, it was so soft and fell gracefully over his handsome face, he looked up, making a little eye contact as his naughty mouth played with you.

His dirty and erotic kisses and caresses began to move down your body, caressing your abdomen, Minho adored the softness of it, finely running his fingertips across your skin and brushing the tip of his straight nose, so delicately as if it was the most fragile thing about you, causing you to uncontrollably pleasure and gasp in satisfaction as you felt and thought that he was getting closer and closer to your sensitive center.

You stirred your legs to feel your wetness rubbing up to your folds, getting more and more excited at the thought of being touched there. Minho finally took off your skirt, smiling at the sight of your girlish panties, he must have known, you were still younger than him after all, the idea went to his head, a cute and cuddly young girl just for him.

“Hello Kitty” he said amused, running the back of his finger along your slick, making you sigh, “You’re so sweet, honey, you’re the sweetest.”

You looked at him with mock displeasure but your face changed in seconds as you felt his fingers press against your clit. Minho chuckled softly.

“Look at the little kitty, is a mess, you left her so wet, baby…” he said again playfully, running two of his fingers on your slick.

His pun was fun. It was true, you were so wet, so aroused almost sweating just in sexual desire, the thin fabric of your panties was soaked and Minho enjoyed seeing you so needy for him. He admired your body and position, lying back with your heavy breathing, eyes shining, breasts exposed, foreplayed nipples and your sweet Hello Kitty panties attached to your folds by your wetness. Minho became even more aroused.

“You are so beautiful, my dear and I’m not just saying that because you are like this, naked in front of me” he gently placed his body over you and teased you with his hand on your clit and his hot breath between your neck and ear, he whispered, “You are truly beautiful. I adore you.”

Your cheeks grew flushed hot. The low tone in his voice, his words and him caressing you were the whole damn package of how to have you attracted in seconds.

He brought his face close to yours again, almost looking for a kiss but he was just teasing you. You were speechless, his big dark eyes were so enigmatic. It was your best sexual encounter so far, there was so much chemistry and connection between you.

“Minho” you finally said, biting your lip nervously, “I want to see you naked too.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled amused.

“Whatever the princess asks.”

He removed himself on top of you, standing on the floor with his knees touching the edge of your bed. You sat on the bed quickly to get a closer view of him undressing. You bit your lip and Minho proceeded to undress, removing his sweater, tousling his pretty black hair a bit and relieving his warm masculine scent. You admired his bare chest, his broad shoulders, worked and smoothly muscled arms where you could see his veins running down to his attractive hands, his shapely pecs and his smooth but firm worked-up abdomen. You fell more and more for Minho.

His hands reached the button of his jeans and you couldn’t resist not touching him, you finely ran your fingers over a scar he had near his navel and looked him in the eyes, almost wanting to ask just with your eyes —a scar he got because he was stabbed— and you put your hands over his and he let you do it right away. You caressed a bit of his big bulge on top of the denim and now you fixed your eyes there, you pulled it down desperately to see also the bulge in his underwear to then subtly lick your lips and finally pull his boxers down to see his erection, you almost sighed thinking why he looked so good, absolutely everything about Minho looked good, his smooth pubic skin all the way to the incredible sight of his big veiny cock which you held and played with, your thumb caressing his glans glistening in his precum, feeling his erect throbbing organ engorged in sex, you thought he had the best cock you had ever seen, even better than the ones that make money on that, Minho was like a hidden diamond, you still didn’t believe he could be single looking like that.

“Fuck, baby” he moaned enjoying your hands on his cock, but then gently removed them, “It feels so good but it's your turn, sweetheart, get comfortable I want to touch you and make you feel, good, okay?”

You nodded submissively and slid backwards until you reached your pillows. Minho finished removing his clothes completely and moved lustfully closer to you, pulled off your panties and approached your wet center with a smug smile. He dropped his body to the bed, his abdomen and hard cock pressed against it to position himself between your legs, he entwined your thighs in his strong arms and his lips went straight to your pubic skin to deposit soft kisses until he looked into your eyes and took the opportunity to view your body from that angle, with his hot, heaving breath hitting your core, then he looked at your glistening pussy just before he dipped his pretty face into you. He caught your clit making you moan and shiver, you needed it already and it was feeling so good.

Minho caressed your body while his mouth did all the dirty delicious work all over your pussy, his hands ran over your thighs, your abdomen, gently squeezed your breasts and so on as he sucked your clit and ran his tongue over your labia and got lost in your taste and how satisfying it was having you moaning. You stroked his hair again and his tongue entwined between your pussy lips and when he felt you desperate and highly aroused almost at your peak, he brought his hands to your pussy, sliding them all over your slick and then penetrating your lubricated entrance in a rhythm that only teased you.

You were so close to your first orgasm, the rhythm of his fingers in you was slow and enticing that it was making you tremble, and the tension in your stomach ached for release. He played with your clit once more as his fingers filled you and you felt a slight vibration in your sensitive spot, Minho moaned with a vein in his neck visible that his body did not resist and he cum just like that, just by touching you.

He pulled slightly away from you and looked admiringly at your aroused body.

“You like that, huh, baby?” his voice made you shudder, “Or do you like it rough?”

His fingers began to move roughly in you while with his other hand he played with the rest of your pussy slowly, you whimpered arching your back, you were being so stimulated, the difference of rhythms in you hastened your orgasm.

“Yes, yes, Minho, ple—”

You couldn’t even speak, your entrance felt full and used and your whole pussy was treated to perfection that your body reached its maximum release, collapsing in your orgasm.

You tried to catch your breath, but Minho didn’t end there, he got hard again and savored every part of your orgasm by shamelessly swiping his warm, wide tongue, making you enjoy and aroused again this time slightly calmer, humming soft “Mmm”, but the pace of things escalated as you felt his tongue to thrust through your insides and you felt stimulated again.

“Fuck, Minho, let-let me touch you now” you moaned.

You wanted to touch and please him as much as he did you and you obviously wanted to feel him too.

“Okay” he replied softly with an adorable smile that made him show his teeth.

You noticed semen on your sheets and on Minho’s cock and bit your lip. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth to gently position himself on top of you and rub his hard erection on your labia. You blubbered, looking down at the action and returning your gaze to his piercing eyes. You whimpered. And you were happy to be able to make as much noise as you wanted if he dared to fuck you with his well-endowed cock, you had no neighbors, the one in 221 was on a business trip and you were having a very hot encounter with your other neighbor.

“You know what… from now on I can help you with whatever you need, from the smallest thing, you can tell me” Minho spoke softly as he stroked your hair, “Even if it’s that you need help in your videos or when you don’t want to feel alone.”

You were both satisfied, cuddling after having the hottest and dirtiest sex, while tenderly wearing his sweater.

You caught his comment as tender as you watched his bare chest rise and fall from his quiet breathing as you had your cheek resting on it, but the tender moment faded as you realized the intent of his comment… did he mean he wanted to be a part of your videos? Your sex videos.

That’s exactly what he meant. You didn’t think twice.

Filming time with Minho was one of your favorite moments. Another one of your favorite moments was when you spent some nice quality time with him and he would hold you and kiss you tenderly while looking at you with purity…. but your little alone time recording was something that nothing could compare to, it was your little moment of fun, your little twisted and kinky game that started with nervous laughter and developed little by little to show a taste of Lee Minho’s nature, he being the mastermind behind the sex tapes that included him developing an almost in him dominant character, the one he liked to treat you with during sex.

Your idea was not to show Minho’s face, you both agreed on that and first you would start with something so common and typical to know people’s response to the appearance of a new character to your videos, so your first sexual activity recorded and uploaded was a video of a popular and classic blowjob you had done to Minho.

You joked, saying that people loved oral sex videos with the man receiving and, by people you meant mostly horny men who would pay money to see you, so it was a win-win, you would blow Minho for pleasure because you liked doing it, he would enjoy it and you would get money for it.

And your first kind of recorded encounter was in your room, Minho sitting on the edge of your bed and first you started to get aroused without cameras recording, for Minho it was not hard to get an erection, you were wearing a nice lingerie so revealing that it didn’t leave much to the imagination, all your mons pubis and nipples were transparent in the thin pastel pink lace fabric, you had done your makeup and hair beautifully so you just laid on top of him, who was only wearing his underwear, you started kissing passionately, touching each other’s body and you grinding his cock with your core, when both of you were already panting but especially Minho and when you felt his real firmness in him, it was time for the show.

You got off on top of him, Minho had to take off his underwear and leave them absolutely out of the shot, you had two angles to film, one directly that Minho will hold and another angle that you had set up to look sideways and show your kneeling body and Minho’s lower body.

You were nervous and excited, you had done it before but it had not been filmed, you fixed your hair, put lip gloss back on and took a last look at your makeup and returned your view to Minho completely naked with his big erect cock, nervously taking the cell phone, it was weird, but hot. You started recording from the side angle and approached him. You stood on your tiptoes to give him one last kiss before getting completely on your knees in front of his erection. Minho bit his lip and sighed in a half-hearted, excited sigh.

A video of you sucking his cock would live forever on the internet… and he couldn’t be happier about it. It was dirty and vicious, Minho adored it.

“I want you to make as much noise as you want, be yourself and enjoy it, don’t be completely silent like the boring man in porn videos looking like a zombie, please. Besides… some women love men moaning and yours sound so good though.”

Minho smiled adorably showing his front teeth and relaxing his body.

“Got it” he replied.

You nodded your head giving him the signal to start filming, he adjusted the cell phone holding it with his right hand and as soon as it recorded, he gave you a tender signal with his thumb of his left hand. You smiled looking into his eyes and finally took his cock between your hands to start jerking him off, playing with his cock and stroking his tip while looking innocently at the camera from time to time. Minho bit his lip hard, trying not to gasp in just the first few seconds of the video.

You looked up, but instead of seeing the camera, you saw Minho’s body and face, weakening you and making your pussy explode in tingles and twinges of excitement, he made you so crazy and needy. Minho looked so good like that, naked, watching you from above with his dominating presence, biting his lip, his veiny hands holding your pink cell phone and hyper-feminine decorated. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of him and that was something the camera managed to capture.

You began licking his cock, playing with his balls, tentatively inserting his tip into your mouth and licking it to savor every sensation of his soft, sensitive glans with his precum. Minho was doing his best to keep his hand steady but he gave in little by little and moaned as you began to thrust his length into your cavity, he grabbed your hair, his veiny manly hand drove crazy more than one who watched your video and Minho captured to perfection the messy shot of his thick length entering your mouth.

What followed were long, pleasurable minutes of the most angelic blowjob Minho ever had; it was your makeup smearing a bit, your tears coming out, your face begging for mercy and drooling as you enjoyed every moment, and a breathless Minho completely aroused, fucking your mouth and tentatively reaching down your throat to climax inside your cavity, but the video didn’t stop there. Minho rubbed your lips and pretty face with his glans gently coated in his semen and in a desperate act he began to masturbate, overstimulating himself again; you understood and helped him to bring him to his second orgasm, this time a cumshot straight to your cheek, you smiled happily.

With the video saved, Minho helped you wipe the cum off your face with a tender smile and giggles, then kissed passionately again, turned your body and fucked your wet, throbbing pussy hard as you held on to your bathroom sink, while he held on to your hips and played with your breasts with you enjoying being fucked in front of the mirror.

The video of you blowing Minho was a hit and as expected, people wanted more of the mysterious man with the nice cock, sexy hands and cute moans.

So you and Minho had some fun giving them exactly what they wanted.

He had the idea of dominating you in bed and having his voice make an appearance, recording your ass being pounded until it was red and sore, turning Minho on too much with your throbbing pain and whimpers. He would treat your entrance hard, penetrating it harshly and overstimulating you bringing you to orgasm after orgasm as his arm fell heavily on your back limiting your movement. Minho babbled little derogatory nicknames at you, whispering, “You like that, huh, little slut?”, treating you rough. You didn’t know where that idea came from, maybe a little fantasy he had, but it pleased you so much, you were a mess, tears in your eyes, your body agitated, pussy throbbing and soaking wet without stopping being used by Minho even for a second.

Then he got the idea to tape you having a 69 which aroused every one of your senses, your pussy was already stimulated but you couldn’t stop, it was like you were ovulating the whole damn time you were with him. You sat on his face and rode him, his mouth pleasuring you and his sharp nose pressing exquisitely into your core.

It was your little adventure play that just kept getting better and better.

Then it was time for your livestream, you had been missing it since you met Minho… but you didn’t want to do it alone this time and having sex with him live would be risky, so he ordered you to do everything just like you used to do it, only this time he would be behind the camera, giving you little instructions, watching you pleasuring yourself.

You looked at Minho amused, the idea that he could just stand there watching you was too much of a turn-on for you. You started to transmit, as usual, wearing tender and provocative lingerie that when you used to be so excited you ended up taking it off completely. You bit your lip, spreading your legs, and placed the vibrator on your clit, instantly moaning more excited with the idea that Minho was watching you sitting behind the led ring light.

His cock throbbed, and he analyzed every part of you, bringing back memories of when he did it that night from his window. Your panties were already a mess, you were overstimulating yourself. You pulled the fabric of your panties away from your folds and inserted two fingers inside you, glancing at Minho from time to time.

He bit his lip but kept a serious and penetrating gaze, studying every part of you.

“Take the other toy and ride it, ride it until you cum.”

Minho suddenly ordered you and his look and voice made you shudder. You took with some embarrassment the realistically shaped dildo and did exactly as he instructed, sliding it inside you still with your panties on and starting to ride it so that you could appreciate the dirty act of the toy filling your insides; you whimpered in pleasure, you were leaving a mess on your sheet and you looked with an expression of joy at Minho, missing him, wishing it was his the cock you were riding and a stupid toy.

Minho licked his lips at the sight… there was something about you, you were particularly more aroused and needy than the last time he saw you do the livestream.

“Cum, princess, do it faster, make yourself cum.”

His voice made your nipples erect and you kept sliding up and down on the stiff toy that filled your walls and whimpered as you looked back at Minho and fell into a roaring orgasm, for the first time you had forgotten the glamour of cumming, the orgasm had been so real and more so looking into Minho’s eyes, hearing his voice and fantasizing, usually you would try to be all pretty girl, moaning cute and cumming prettily, showing off your collection of your toys glistening in your fluids but now all you could think about was Minho and how every inch of you was madly aroused.

Your makeup was starting to get ruined, your hair was slightly tousled, and every emotion of yours was feeling so real that your live was being a hit but all you wanted was for Minho to finish it once and for all and fuck you.

“Now show everyone your beautiful pussy, sweetie” he ordered you and you did, pulling aside the fabric of your panties and showing your swollen and wet pussy folds, “Shit, you are the most beautiful doll, sweetie. Spread your folds apart, show them what’s mine.”

You blushed following his orders and watched as he lowered the cell phone further and gave it a little zoom to bring your pussy more into focus. Minho moved closer to you, his face not coming out in the shot and took your vibrator and dildo and continued your pleasure and light torture by stimulating you. He penetrated you quickly and roughly with the dildo while pressing the head of the vibrator into your clit making you frantic.

“It’s mine, honey?” he said dominantly, watching your body collapse in pleasure, nothing could take away his smug smile, for having you at his disposal and for being the one who was touching you while thousands of idiots were just fantasizing behind a screen.

“Y-yes, yes. Fuuck, Mi-, I need you. Please” you whimpered in desperation.

“Beg for more, tell me how much you want it.”

You swallowed saliva and took a big gasping breath on the verge of collapse. Still, all you could think about was him, the feel of his body on top of yours, pushing against your body, and the wet, hot, pleasurable sensation of his pumping, real sex inside you that missed every inch and vein of him.

“Please, please, please, I need you, fuck me…. Lee.”

You didn’t even know whether to call him Minho as it was risky and Lee was still a common first name for other people. He smiled, smug and satisfied, pulling the dildo out of you and turning off the vibrator, making you moan.

“The live is over.”

Minho ended the live quickly with no problem, took off his pants and boxers and then proceeded to yank your panties off in a tug to approach you and finally take you, gently inserting his big, erect cock into you and began frantically pounding your pussy in a hard, body smashing rhythm. He caressed your breasts with his hands and then brought his right hand up to your neck subtly cutting off your breath. You felt so pathetically aroused, you cum twice on his cock penetrating your insides and tickling all the way to your cervix and after your second intense orgasm, Minho finally came to his orgasm too, happily filling every drop of his cum inside you. Minho was a fan of your quivering, used pussy gently releasing his cum so he once again enjoyed the show that left you tired and full.

You were just his in so many ways.

After that you asked him if he could treat you the same without cameras around to which he was very happy with your request.

Minho had to return to his own little hell. His own job. He had a new mission to take care of so he would be out of town for days and he didn‘t want to leave you but he had to. Everything was going so well with him that you missed him, you wanted to invite him on a little trip together with the money earned and you fantasized again about filming the act, it was so dirty and risky, you loved the adrenaline and pleasure Minho made you feel.

When you asked Minho what his job was he answered somewhat coldly and curtly that he was a private detective and quickly changed the subject, you felt a shiver but you understood perfectly, that he didn’t want to talk about it.

While Minho left, your other neighbor Han Jisung had arrived from a long business trip and upon meeting you in the hallway invited you into his apartment which you accepted since you were supposed to be friends but it was more than obvious that Jisung wanted you a little more than just for that.

Jisung untied his tie, tossing it onto his couch.

“I’m exhausted, do you want something to drink?” he expressed.

You shook your head and once you were inside you questioned what you were doing there.

“Mmm I have to go” you said suddenly.

Jisung laughed.

“You just walked in, beautiful. Everything okay?”

You nodded, “I forgot I was kind of busy with something…”

He grimaced, “Too bad for me, I was hoping we could talk a little, the trip was long and tiring.”

You felt bad, you didn’t see Jisung with other eyes than friendship, you recognized that he was handsome and maybe the most wanted bachelor, young and billionaire… but you didn’t try anything because the idea of him dating someone like you was absurd and now you had Minho and he was everything you were looking for, someone you can have a relationship with and be so sexually open with each other, someone who would love you for who you were, you wanted to feel loved despite your little mistakes.

“It’s okay, I can stay for a while.”

He smiled.

“What’s up? What movie do you want to watch today? I’ll order some dinner, do you want anything?”

After a while you were both eating dinner, in absolute confidence, feeling comfortable with each other.

“Someone moved into 225,” you said.

“Mm… who?”

“Lee Minho, he’s cute, we’re dating.”

Jisung was about to joke with you but the name seemed familiar.

“What’s his name?”

“Lee Minho. He lives alone.”

“Lee Minho…?” Jisung visualized his face, but thought it was coincidence, he still asked, “A young man with black hair and big eyes? Do you have a picture of him?”

“Do you know him?”

His poor description sounded so much like Minho that you showed him a picture, surprising Jisung.

“Wow, that’s weird, he lives in the building across the street, not this one… Well, maybe he just moved in. He’s a tough and lonely guy, he’s kind of scary, he’s a fucking hitman or so my dad’s friends say.”

You blinked in puzzlement at the sudden information.

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know too much about him just that he lived across the street and his job is kind of heavy.”

That left you thinking too much and you took the opportunity to find out on your own, but you couldn’t do too much since you couldn’t get to the apartment and they flatly refused to give you information about him, so you returned somewhat confused back to your building, you knew exactly Minho’s entry code from the apartment next to yours since you pretended not to see him every time he did but you got to memorize it… entering was so wrong but you couldn’t help it and you did it, you also had that curiosity in you and you remembered even the smallest details, like Minho told you that he didn’t installed security cameras inside his apartment yet and that he would do it coming back from his business trip, so if he was telling the truth, nobody knew you were sneaking in there in the dark.

You entered his room, with the feeling of curiosity in your chest, you felt that Minho knew everything about you, but you knew little about him. You knew his name, his age, you half knew his job… you knew he was a good man, cute and attentive but why you still felt deep in you the question of who is Lee Minho.

His room was just as you remembered it, you weren't looking for anything specific but you had an unsettling feeling of wanting to find something but you were already beginning to feel that you were effectively trespassing on Minho’s property so you were about to leave, but the drawer in the cabinet to the side on his bed half open caught your attention, everything looked in order but that precise piece of furniture made the tidy room look as if Minho had been in a hurry and left that little detail, so you approached it and found inside what looked like a pink book, a specific shade of pastel pink which is your favorite color, you took it innocently thinking that maybe it could be a gift for you and you could see immediately that it was a photo album; you were disconcerted for a second, the feeling of uneasiness returned to you and impatiently opened the book, you could not see well so you illuminated it with the flashlight of your cell phone and as soon as you saw it you were perplexed and with the frightening sensation of an agonizing cold taking hold of your body.

Your eyes moved in terror and surprise… they were pictures of you sleeping… why? Why would Minho do such a thing? Why are they pictures of you from your room? What kind of psycho was he?

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt fear and disappointment as you immediately thought that Minho was not the kind of guy you thought he was and that he was obviously a weirdo. The angles of the pictures made you shiver, you weren’t such a heavy sleeper that you didn’t realize someone was watching you but just the thought that he used to come into your house at night… it was something you never thought would happen. You were paralyzed, thinking whether to take the album and leave, confront Minho, or leave it there… now you were even more curious about what else he might be hiding.

You slowly stepped back in fear and shock, you had no idea who Minho really was, your mind was filled with thoughts but suddenly you felt your back collide with a rigid body that you knew exactly whose body it was.

You turned your body and a mysterious gust of a cold breath of wind blew through your body. You met Minho with a serious look and expression, with a face so serious that you had never seen on him before. You got more scared, thinking how the hell he had gotten there if he didn’t even make the slightest noise, you were so scared, you wanted so many answers, in your little madness you thought he might even be a ghost.

But Lee Minho was so real, a human with tendencies different from the established, but he was still normal or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself… suddenly you felt petrified before his presence, anything could happen right there and now you felt helpless.

But of one thing Minho was sure, that his heart broke when he saw that peculiar look on your face when you saw him. And he who only expected you to look at him with love all the time. You looked at him with terror and panic, a petrifying look that only those movies you used to watch with him could reflect in the real world. Why? What was really happening?

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @lailac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne @velvetmoonlght @shadowhunterathene @compersian @binniesbabe @strayywayy @isabel-018 @paborachaslvt @tirena1

[midnite-c6]

After reading ur patient!namgyu fanfic I was just wondering if you could pretty please w a cherry on top write a fic about Seowan !! Doesnt have to be doctor x patient, I just need more fics w my beloved Seowan 🔥🔥 have a great day/noon/night!

i haven't seen any fics about seo-wan, it makes me so sad, but here's oneDJFH also, i added squid game tags because i want more nam-gyu lovers to see roh jaewon's character in daily dose of sunshine!! FIRST NON SQUIDGAME FIC .. my fav schizo TT.

kim seo-wan x reader !! <3 warnings: fluff , angst ?! , mentions of mental illness </3

つ⁠｡⁠☆ he's your study buddy!! both of you couldn't pass the exams the first time and you guys bonded over that. the two of you would sit next to each other when the professors lecturing about a lesson, since you both share the interest of being determined in passing the exams this year, there wouldn't be alot of talking during a lecture, but afterwards he's actually quite talkative!

he would also share his notes, giving you a bunch of sticky notes, all of them would have silly random doodles and small comments about how "you can do it!"

you manage to even hang out with him after classes ..which still includes studying, but you told him he needs to let lose, even for a little while. eating noodles in those small shops on the sidewalk, visiting libraries, and if you feel like your falling behind in studies, he would share the other side of his headset, making you listen to the lecture he found on youtube.

a new store would open up right next to the university, because the lessons were tiring and obsessing over the tests is unhealthy, the two of you decide to explore. it was actually a computer-shop.

since then, it's been you and seo-wan's new hobby, to play videogames for hours after lectures, how you were practically his pocket healer, how you two can't play alone without the other right by their side.

this newly-shared interest has gotten you two alot closer, you'd even ask him out, gratefully, the feelings are mutual, kim seo-wan is a simple man. now there'd be long sessions of kissing inside his small apartment, cosplaying, the two of you didn't have alot of money, but this was enough.

video games became a part of your life, one to escape reality. but unfortunately, this hit a little bit harder for kim seo-wan. you'd notice how he wouldn't take the time to study anymore. of course, as the concerned lover you are, you would remind him all the time, but he just wouldn't budge.

his parents were nice, they'd always treat you like you were family, even cooking dinner or lunch for you whenever you come over. since you haven't seen seo-wan in awhile, you'd ask them, only to find out your boyfriend has been sent to a psychiatric unit.

you would visit him everyday, telling him about your day, and asking about his. his day was filled with thinking of you, playing ping-pong with the other patients, and this fantasy world he lives in. but whenever you were too busy to visit, he'd be extra depressed inside the hospital and says he has ran out of mana. </3

you were always intrigued whenever he would tell you about his visions. his stories contain that you were truly his 'mediator', and that you're there in his life to save him. "this is very unprofessional, oh my dear.. mediator, but i'm inlove with you, for you make me look forward to explore even the darkest caves or the highest mountains." he'd take your hand to place a soft kiss on-top. he had forgotten your previous relationship before, atleast he still loves you in the new world he's living in.

you'd end up taking the test without him, but you'd never talk about it in the hospital, you know he needs more time.

in the end, you two agree upon each other to fight the fire dragon together, whatever the future may hold. because, as he confidentally says: "once i've saved up enough mana and leveled up all my armor, i choose you to come with me. you're the only one i can trust in defeating the fire dragon. i will protect you with all my life, my dear mediator!"

i'm sobbing just thinking about this bye ☹️☹️☹️ was gonna do nsfw parts too as i usually do but like i was too up in my feelings LMAOFHBRK trust im gonna post sum nsfw story next 🤞🏻

[mymegrokosmos]

seventeen as types of boyfriends - just my usual brainrot headcanons

seungcheol is stubborn. he's the type of bf to refuse to start eating until you do. this man sits with one arm draped over the back of your chair and watches you finish whatever you're doing, waiting patiently for you to join him. doesn't begin eating until you take your first bite. will insist on feeding you if you say you're full before finishing most of your plate. smiles at you and then he's listening to you ramble on about your day, vent about whatever has been bothering you or telling you about his life since he last saw you which let's be real was less than a week ago bc this is a clingy loverboy at heart if i've ever seen one. always pouting. always. will argue with you if you try to skip meals even just bc you forgot. wants to know you're looking after yourself, even when he isn't doing the same. will make a pact to be better about it if you are and help you play off each other as supports for the things you're each individually not good at doing. great teamwork and communication couple.

jeonghan is definitely the overdramatic boyfriend. every minor inconvenience immediately becomes a 'so you don't love me anymore' said with such a straight face sometimes you can't tell if he's just teasing or if he's genuinely hurt by whatever happened. blinks at you if you even try to pretend to reject his affection. do not play with his heart he will make you regret it. does not feel bad about overstepping boundaries when you're self-sabotaging. needs his daily dose of affirmation that you are indeed dating him of your own volition and you are happy to be there. secret softie but likes to talk a big talk and isn't himself unless he's making you want to strangle him just a little bit. loves embarrassing you in public bc your reactions are just too funny/cute to him. you're the group mediator couple everyone comes to when they need to vent.

joshua is a big softie. he's whipped and not afraid for the whole world to know it but will absolutely tease you like you're the one head over heels for him. you are pls just let it happen he's right and you are obsessed with him. very attuned to your reactions and somehow always senses when the vibes are off pretty much immediately. very caring but also needs a lot of affection and quality time. loves when you do things together even if there's no talking, content just to be in your presence especially if you get to cook or bake together. lots of daytime dates like picnics in the park or trips to the beach. loves a spontaneous roadtrip or silly little idea. he loves artsy casual activities like paint and sip evenings and having your friends around to spend time with everyone together. your apartment is the go to hangout spot and his members are comfortable showing up at all hours even when shua isn't around. mum friend therapist couple of the group.

junhui is a very lowkey boyfriend. doesn't always announce his love with large/loud gestures but he's always thinking about you. it shows in the small things. acts of service bf. loves physical contact. taking naps together is his love language. will cook your favourite meals and somehow always knows when you're getting sick before you do. loves when you let him lay on your lap while you read or watch tv and play with his hair. all about quiet time with you. lots of nighttime dates bc the way you look at the moon makes his heart happy. you're the couple that's often in their own little bubble even among friends. hao didn't ask to be included in your relationship but you've become a trio somehow anyway and often joke that you're the third wheel.

hoshi's the type of boyfriend you equally want to squish his cheeks for being adorable and kill him for waking you up at ungodly hours over the smallest things. he's very loud and open with his affection. needs looking after, please do not let this man out alone unless he's in jihoon's studio he will get lost or find his way into trouble 100% accidentally. so accident prone. he's not clumsy he is just bad at spacial awareness when he isn't dancing bc he's easily distracted by other things. loves snacks and your cupboard is always ransacked whenever he comes over. will act like your own personal weighted blanket. the type to swing your joined hands and skip ahead of you in public, tugging you along bc he's too excited to get somewhere or say hello to a cute dog down the street. will make you stop at every playground you pass to play on the swings with him.

wonwoo is another less outwardly affectionate boyfriend. he's not big on pda and making things showy. he's secure in your relationship and likes to show his love in other ways - like buying and building you a custom gaming set up just so you can play with him. will get matching headphones or mice. definitely didn't get you a mousepad with a design from your favourite game or anime on it. patient and very fond. likes to rest his hand on the small of your back or let you know he's there/stay close in more subtle ways but know you can absolutely always count on him even if he teases you for your bad decisions the next morning. and for weeks afterwards. likes playing little pranks like moving your stuff around when you leave him unsupervised too often. likes to stand around and talk to you whenever you're in the kitchen, he likes watching you cook and draping himself over your back as you make him taste test new dishes.

woozi is the type of bf to show you what he struggles with saying. isn't the best at expressing his affection through physical touch so he writes songs instead. loves quiet time while you're each just doing your own thing. dependable and steady. will show up to every event, milestone, company dinner you name it he will be there if you mention it even once in his presence. the calm one when you're going through something. good at seeing the bigger picture when you need advice or just being there for you to lean on. loves days in together or activities that don't involve too much socializing. happy when you invite your friends over to dinners, game or movie nights at your apartment. will make sure to tell you how he feels bc he knows you don't hear it often. quick to defend you and careful about his words. will throw his members under the bus for you in a heartbeat. mingyu and hoshi are always around so you've sort of ended up adopting them too. he loves coming home and seeing you cooking together or when you join hoshi in invading his studio.

minghao is a soft bf. believes relationships are an equal partnership. won't make a big deal out of it but always there to hold your purse or offer you a piggy back. you can tell him anything and he loves a good gossip session but will always be the first person to tell you if you're in the wrong or could have handled something better. the type of bf to talk/work through issues together and face things head on. will help you come up with solutions for your problems if you let him. great advice giver. always has a hug and a mug of tea ready for you. will stick by you through bad decisions but you'll feel his disappointment. he's here to make your life easier by taking on all the small things you don't even think about but he expects you to pull your weight in the relationship as well. likes quiet time together. jun has accidentally become your best friend too bc he's around so often. believes having time to yourselves is healthy for you both and encourages you spending time with friends or family without him too.

dk is such a loverboy. silly bf who's always making you laugh and also occasionally want to strangle him because he cannot take anything seriously for the life of him. a true romantic. this man loves physical affection and doesn't care if you're in public or not. has eyes for you and you only. he's not even looking in any other direction. dokyeom is a very devoted boyfriend. will cry with you and listen to any and every grievance. does anything he can to cheer you up and hold you when you're sad. happy to be doing anything as long as you're together but he likes outdoorsy dates or fun adventures. take him to see a musical or taste every type of pizza throughout the city. loves to feed you and try new restaurants together. you're definitely the couple all your friends love having over for any kind of get together and who you make smile every time they see how in love you are bc it shines so brightly no one can miss how deeply each of you cherishes the other.

mingyu is a domestic boyfriend. he's always cooking for you, cleaning up when you don't have the mental capacity or running you a bath when your energy is sapped after a long day. loves taking care of you. needs physical affection constantly or he will sulk and whine about it. complains that you don't love him if you forget to respond to a text. loves outdoorsy and gym dates. as long as you're doing something that involves moving your body. a sucker for romance. treat this man to a homemade meal, a candlelit dinner, make him something with your own hands and he will absolutely melt. cherishes everything you've ever given him. keeps a memory box of tickets, cards, all kinds of mementos from your dates. loves watching scary movies as an excuse to hide behind you and hug you close all night. it's no secret that he's whipped. this man also loves cooking with you even if you're a disaster in the kitchen.

seungkwan is a secret loverboy. like josh and hannie he lives to tease you about being whipped for him but not so surprisingly he's just as in love with you. always by your side with a hand in your pocket or on your waist. loves a good coffee date and gossip session. people watching together is your favourite activity, he will make up increasingly elaborate scenarios until you're snorting your drink out of your nose and folded over laughing so hard. loves when you lean on him, whether it's bc you're tired or happy or just seeking some warmth or comfort. such an emotional support boyfriend. tell him everything, he will listen and reassure you then help you come up with a solution to whatever's stressing you out. if you don't want advice he's also there to just hold you until it feels less overwhelming. will give you the silent treatment if you fuck up but ultimately you talk it through together bc a relationship takes work and both of you are committed to making it work.

vernon is an easygoing boyfriend. down for pretty much anything and loves when you make the plans so he doesn't have to. happy to spend time with you especially if music is involved somehow. loves going to gigs together or having you in his studio to bounce ideas off of and to get your opinions on his projects. likes to use you as a human pillow and if you cook for him that's it he's never letting you leave again. mandatory movie nights at least once a week bc he always has something new he wants to see and he's so cute when he focuses and locks in on whatever you're watching that night. this man is so oblivious though you might need to spell things out for him sometimes. he loves you he just doesn't always get it.

chan is a clingy bf. this man loves physical contact and your personal space is also his personal space. always attached to you somehow whether that's a hand on your thigh or holding yours or even just a head leaning on whatever part of you is nearest. he's always holding onto you, loosely so you can still move around comfortably but whines when you get up to pee or grab a snack. he's so used to constantly being around so many other people pls do not leave cutie alone he gets bored so easily. loves when you come to dance practice or to watch him practice alone even if you're off to the side somewhere doing your own thing. down bad and absolutely shameless about it.

[jakedustry]

𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 - 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

stranger!jake x fem!reader

in which you bond with a handsome guy at the airport over a spilled coffee

wc 2.3k

warnings none

↪ izzy adds... I am obsessed with this man (might have literally created him in my the sims game yesterday)

You sigh, looking at the passport in your hands again. You had this feeling, this annoying tickle in your stomach, telling you that you forgot something. And you couldn’t shake it off for some reason. It’s nothing. I have everything, you try to convince yourself. Everyone always thinks they forgot something when traveling. You weren’t the first or last one. 

Still, you feel anxious about it. 

You try to ignore it and look out the window, observing the night sky. The stars look as beautiful as ever, and your lips instinctively turn into a smile at the sight. “Are you okay back there?” Your taxi driver asks, making you glance over at him. He hasn’t spoken once during the ride, and honestly, you couldn’t say you would mind. There wasn’t necessarily anything you had against him, but he was still just a stranger taking you to the airport. It wasn’t like you had planned on having a meaningful conversation with him. 

“I’m alright,” you mumble. He gives a slight nod, focusing on the road again. “If you want to open the window, feel free to. It would be easier to watch the stars like that,” he comments, sneaking a few glances at you through his rearview mirror. “Thank you,” you answer with a smile. 

You take your suitcase and backpack from the car trunk, smiling at the driver once more before turning to the airport in front of you. You take a deep breath, mentally checking that you have everything you need one last time. “If you forgot something, you can buy it when you land,” you remind yourself. 

It takes you around fifty minutes to go through all the controls, and then another five before you find your way around and reach a café like you hoped to. You feel tired after standing in all the lines, unable to do anything but wait, and you still have an hour before your flight. You need your daily dose of caffeine. 

You sigh as you enter another line. You knew many people wanted to buy a coffee or a snack before their flights, but it was annoying going from one line to another. All you wanted to do was sit down and relax. 

You unlock your phone, checking the messages from your friends you’d received while you were offline, but before you can answer any of them, a loud yell interrupts you. “Shit!” You turn your head towards the table close to you, your eyes landing on the two guys. While one of them is mumbling curses under his breath, trying to figure out what to do about his spilled coffee, the other one is laughing, finding his friend as hilarious as ever. “Can you stop making fun of me and give me a tissue or something instead?” the black-haired boy hisses. 

“Hey,” you call out, garnering their attention. “Here,” you say casually, throwing a pack of tissues their way. The seemingly shorter boy gives you an appreciative smile catching the tissues as he mouths a grateful “Thank you.” 

“You couldn’t do that, Riki, huh?” He gazes at his friend again, regretting it immediately as he was still laughing. 

“I am sorry for the disturbance,” he apologizes again, his puppy eyes getting stuck in your mind. “It’s fine,” you shake your head with a smile, watching as he wipes off the coffee from the table for a second before you move closer to the lady behind the cash register. 

Upon receiving your coffee, you thank the cashier before turning to look for an empty table, but it was pointless. Even the two boys you saw before weren’t at their table anymore. Assuming that they had gone to the bathrooms to clean his shirt, you shrug the matter off.

Opting to wait by your gate instead, you leave the small café behind. There’s not much else for you to do anyway. 

You never thought you could be one of the people to get “an airport crush,” but for some reason, you kept smiling while thinking about the boy you met earlier. You don’t know what kind of a person he is, but that makes it so thrilling. You want to figure out what he’s like, what food he likes, what coffee he was drinking, and if there is a significant other in his life. 

You must admit, he was exactly your type. A black-haired boy with pretty dark eyes and a beautiful smile, as perfect as one can be. And on top of that, he seemed nice too. He looked like one of the out-of-the-world guys that girls get a crush on in romance movies. 

Maybe that’s why you only met in an airport café. Because there’s no way the universe would send a good boy your way. It was just laughing in your face. Showing you that there are handsome guys too, just for them to never appear in your life again, because why would they? 

The universe was a bitch. 

You figured that out a long time ago. But somehow, you still hoped it could bring something good your way. However, so far, it brought everything but the good things. 

♡⸝⸝ 

“Don’t you think she was pretty?” 

“Who?” 

“The girl we met earlier.” 

Your ears perk up at the familiar voices, finding them with your eyes. “Dude, I have no idea how old she is, but I doubt she’d want to date an eighteen year old. Don’t even think about her,” he says when he realizes who his friend is talking about. “Not for me,” the taller one rolls his eyes. “But for you! I think she was pretty for you.” 

It was the same two boys you saw at the café. They were in front of your gate. They were going by the same plane as you. They were going by the same plane as you. Your eyes widen when you realize the odds. Maybe the universe wasn’t against you all the time, after all. 

Maybe, for once, it was sending a nice boy your way and wanted to see if you’d take the chance or run away. 

“You should stop trying to set me up with someone all the time,” The smaller but older, as you assumed, male comments. “Rather think about how you are going to beat me in baseball, or I’ll win again,” he grins, teasing his friend. “You are the one losing all the time! What are you talking about!” The younger one argues immediately, making you chuckle.

You didn’t want them to notice you, but they do. You smile awkwardly, going to sit at one of the chairs opposite them. Maybe you should have turned around and picked a different place for sitting, but you wanted to see what the universe prepared for you this time.

“Hey,” the younger boy smiles, nudging his best friend’s shoulder so he says hi, too. “Hey. Thank you for the tissues once again,” he smiles awkwardly. “It’s fine,” you shake your head. “It’s just some tissues.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, slightly nodding. “Yeah,” you repeat quietly so neither one can hear you. What were you even expecting? They were two strangers who just happened to spill coffee when you were around. This wasn’t the universe trying to give you a good guy.

It was all just a simple coincidence. 

“By the way, I am Riki,” the younger boy smiles at you. “Or Ni-ki, whatever you think is better,” he winks playfully, making you giggle. The boy beside him nudges his shoulder, mouthing the word child as if Riki wasn’t aware of his age. 

“Nice to meet you, Riki,” you answer. You introduced yourself, glancing at the other boy, hoping he would tell you his name too. 

“I am Jake,” the black-haired boy informs you. Jake. You repeat his name inside your head. “You’re traveling to Japan too, right?” He wonders, his fingers running through his hair. When Riki notices that, he shakes his head at him, recognizing the habit he does when he is nervous. 

“Mhm,” you nod. “I am visiting family for Christmas. What about you?” 

“The same as you,” the younger one answers. “And I took Jake with me so he wouldn’t get bored without me,” he grins at the older boy. Good thing you did so, you think. “Right, you are the one who would be bored without me,” Jake rolls his eyes. 

The two boys start bickering while you just watch them, laughing. You missed your friends already. You could see yourself bickering the same way with your best friend. You saw her in Riki. She would definitely laugh at you, too, if you spilled your coffee on yourself. 

You keep talking until your plane starts boarding, and you have to go. To your surprise, they are both nice guys. You had fun with them as if they were your old friends. That feeling will forever remain in your heart. Even if you might never see either of them again, it was nice meeting them. 

♡⸝⸝ 

You sit in your assigned seat, hoping whoever sat at the window seat next to you would be willing to switch places. You don’t usually mind having the middle seat, but this time is different. It was always about the people who sat next to you, and that didn’t change today. Being in the middle seat when you had an obviously older guy staring at your tights beside you wasn’t the best scenario. 

“13F, 13F, ah, here it is!” The boy smiles when he finds his seat. He looks at you, and chuckles at the absurd coincidence. “We have some sort of luck on each other today, huh?” You look up at him, watching as the most adorable smile you had ever seen spreads on his lips. 

“You’re the window seat?” Your eyes widen when you lock eyes with the tall boy in his brown jacket and ripped jeans. Jake nods, and you don’t hesitate a second, asking him to switch with you. “Sure, you can take it,” he agrees, glancing at the older guy beside you. He could see why you would want to switch, and didn’t mind. 

You quickly move, watching Jake sit at your original seat. “Thank you,” you whisper loudly enough so he can hear you. “No problem,” he assures you, taking down his jacket. 

The plane takes off soon after, and you find yourself talking to him again. Suddenly, even though you had troubles with it before you got on the plane, the conversation feels easy. You had things to say to each other, and it felt as if you could never run out of them. 

Jake told you about his dog Layla, while you told him about your friends. You found out he was born in Korea but moved to Australia when he was young and then moved back only recently to become an idol. You told him how you always loved music, too, and that you wish he could make his dream come true soon. He listened to your future plans and even told you what he thought about it. 

He also told you Riki sat somewhere at the front of the airplane, mumbling something about being glad he found you here. It made you smile. 

It felt unreal how long you two talked together. 

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him scroll through his camera roll. He showed you pictures of his dog, but there were also some pictures of him that you definitely didn’t mind seeing. 

“You think I am cute?” He laughs, teasing you about it. You glance at him, trying to figure out what would be the best answer at the moment. You could have told him you didn’t mean it, but you decided to take your chance. When you found a boy you could talk to so easily, you weren’t risking not seeing him again. 

“Yeah, I think you’re cute,” you proclaim, his ears slowly turning red. “I also think you’re very handsome,” you add. He turns to look at you, completely forgetting that he was showing you something on his phone. You can see the blush on his face, but you don’t say anything as you’re certain you’re not doing any better. 

“Riki thinks you’re gorgeous,” he blurts out, completely panicking. “I mean, I think you’re gorgeous,” he corrects himself, making you chuckle. Yeah, he is adorable, you think. 

“Then, maybe, if you think I am gorgeous…we could hang out sometimes,” you offer. “And get to know each other,” you add, sparks of hope in your eyes. You would lie if you said you wouldn’t mind if he rejected you now. You aren’t already in love or anything like that. You aren’t that crazy. But you realized airport crushes were real. 

“I would love that,” he nods. “You know, I’m going to get bored with just Riki around in Japan. Maybe…, I could call you when I get the chance?” He asks, also hoping there could be something out of this. 

“Are you asking for my number?” You ask, assuring yourself but also teasing him a bit. He nods again, and you agree, writing your number into his phone. You take out your phone after that and hand it to him so he can do the same. 

“So, I’ll see you around, right?” He asks carefully. “Yeah, definitely,” you agree with a smile. He smiles, too, and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. 

Maybe the universe is on your side for once. Because the boy next to you surely makes you feel that way. He makes you feel like there could be even good things in your life. And even though he did nothing, you were grateful to him for it. 

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny ✶⋆ want to get notified? join taglist here!

[psycheetamore]

Pinned mother overview post on Feyd-Rautha (and some Austin Butler) rambles

Our lord Feyd-Rautha deserves a woman that can challenge him, handle him, sometimes even best him. A woman that complements him, gives him access to learn what he truly desires. A woman who makes him whole.

And he deserves to host parties befitting his reputation as nr. 1 playboy. And to live in beautiful brutalist buildings, with military parades to honour him. And to be recognised for his sophistication, in addition to his perfectly sculpted body. And to be analysed to death. And and...

So I started exploring AO3 and Tumbler. I will use this mother-post to keep track of all (from my PoV) trackworthy rambles linking to sub-overview posts, with a shout out to a few blogs I read and just keep on reading.

Exploring Feyd-Rautha:

You probably did not know, but I am kinda obsessed about this man. He is so layered, so multi-facated. I just need to explore him. My journeys documented.

Polls

You may know me from my polls?

Feyd Rautha / Austin Gif sets/photo sets

I was compelled making multiple set's, because I cannot help myself after I fell in love with Feyd-Rautha's arms, clenching jaw, lips, waiste, rubbing things and all other things. Which just so happened to be attached to Austin Butler... who knew?

Memes

A few collections of meme's, because I just could not help myself and need to memefy Feyd-Rautha.

Oneshots:

Overview of my oneshots on Feyd-Rautha (thereby typically using smut as an excuse to explore plot). Sometimes as part of a challenge (kinktober / daily dose of Austin Butler), sometimes because I just needed to get something out my head/hands and onto paper.

AO3 rambles:

Choosing to follow destiny - Summary: Yaina has chosen to pick up arms against the Harkonnen to liberate Arrakis. As she catches the eye of Paul Atreides and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, she needs to find her own path and gain control, to achieve what she beliefs is her goal. The question is whether her being drawn to the na-Baron (with some convincing of our darling Feyd of course) will advance her or withhold her.

Other stuff

A list of things I thrash out there, which don't fit any of the baskets above.

A few blogs that I re-read over and over and over again

I want to talk about the loincloth scene

Feyd thoughts from Fenring scene

[yours-etc]

wiggly worm wednesday 🪱

shout out to @someforeignband for encouraging this brain worm madness

(don’t know if i’ve posted anything from this yet so if i have pretend like it’s the first time you’re seeing it 🫶)

here’s a moment from my Twister / Storm Chaser AU

———————

Robin was full of questions when he got home. Steve debriefs the whole interview, conversation, whatever it was.

“Eddie sounds hot,” she says halfway through, “and that's coming from me, a capital L Lesbian, I don’t know how you survived.”

Neither does Steve, to be honest. He’s known he’s gay since Nancy broke up with his senior year. Being with girls in a more intimate way just seemed like a chore to him, Steve just thought that’s how everyone felt. That was until Nacy screamed in his face about how obvious it was he never enjoyed being with her like that, how he needed to get checked out medically because any guy would ruin his own pants just to feel her up behind the bleachers. And yeah, so maybe Steve never really understood why his friends were so obsessed with their girlfriends until he and Tommy drunkenly made out on graduation night and Steve saw stars when Tommy started making breathy sounds and grabbing Steve in ways that made him feel light as a feather and heavy as a brick at the same time. And, yeah, they never spoke about it again.

“Yeah well, I’m not trying to get into something right now Robs, especially not with my much older new boss.”

Robin lets out an exasperated sigh, “Steve you are no fun! Just because you don’t want to buy does not mean you cannot window shop. A daily dose of eye candy is good for the soul.”

So Steve has a small, tiny, minuscule crush that's not even a crush on Eddie. He’s attractive and he clearly knows it. Steve is sure everyone in this town has Eddie on their hall pass list.

What didn’t help this budding crush that's not a crush was Eddie showing up on his doorstep at one in the morning about a week later.

“Hiya Steve, time to go, A big storm forming a few hours away, If we speed we can make it in time before any rotation starts,” He says quickly, letting himself into the apartment.

He was in a cut-up Dio shirt that stopped just below his belly button and showed off his muscular arms. His worn jeans sat on his hips perfectly creating a perfect peek-a-boo for Eddie’s happy trail. And oh and Eddie now had thick and heavy rings on that made his hands look so much… more. Steve had to take a deep breath and force his eyes to stay up.

This is just embarrassing he thought to himself You’re not fucking thirteen Steve get it together.

Eddie’s eyes rake over him darkly. Steve looks down at himself suddenly very aware of only being in a pair of boxers and he turns around without a word and goes to his room to change. When he reappears he sees Eddie standing in the middle of the living room looking around like he’s afraid to break anything.

“So how’d you know which apartment was mine?” Steve asks.

The older man turns to look at Steve, now properly dressed “Steve, it’s not too many people moving in, just had to ask the night shift front desk what room ‘the new kids’ lived in,” he says with a sly smile, “and I happen to know Tracy personally so it wasn’t difficult to get her to give up the information that she definitely definitely should not just be handing out.”

———————

I want to see everyone’s worms!! YES EVEN YOURS! if you see this you’re tagged 🫵

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Your daily dose of Nocorro angst, good eats:

I'm not putting in @spicymiilk 's ideas in case he uses them, but dear god I would pay real money for my accidentally mated au to be written thank u.

-Part of me thinks there should be a fucking medieval au type thing where Neteyam is the next prince to take over the kingdom passed down via Neytiri's line. I just love the idea of Spider as a fucking Theon Greyjoy type son of the enemy raised by the family, and that’s why Neytiri doesn’t trust him or some shit it’s so juicy. Can't you all see it now it's so good, the star crossed horror of it all.

-The additional Neytiri/Neteyam parallel that comes out in nocorro. They both have forbidden alien romances, and yet Neytiri wouldn't respect or understand Neteyam's without a lot of work. THE SYMBOLIC T R A G E D Y. We could have a moment of Mo'at being like, "Get it together, I accepted your freak. I even like him better than you now sometimes."

-I am currently deeply obsessed with the bonds Na'vi form with their mates. Every author has played with bonds differently, but I feel like a lot of fics have mentioned this concept of being able to feel each others emotions. The fact that the bond is like, more raw and important in the beginning. So Spider and Neteyam keeping their relationship hidden, being separate and secret would be like almost painful. I am so so invested in that idea I want to know More. Like they Have to be near each other, like touch and shit is essential for a healthy bond at first and they’re just like fucking it up. I want to explore Na'vi bond concepts so bad, with some lovely hurt comfort of nocorro being forced apart at the worst time.

-I even like the concept of them being in a healthy, normal relationship, right? They are newly bonded, and everyone loved and supported them from the beginning or what not. They wanted to get mated before the train raid just in case, and then Spider gets fucking taken lol. Tragedy, they AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE APART, the drama of it all.

-I made that soulmate au post where I did all the different types of soulmate aus I could think of and with the one where they can feel and take each others pain I WENT STRAIGHT TO NOCORRO RIGHT AWAY. There’s something so funny and horrifying about spider getting taken and Jake being like “alright go learn an entire new culture” and Neteyam's like on the ground half dead like “but dad I feel like I’m being brain tortured”.

-Neteyam would be so fucking angsty and reckless at Awa'atlu in this au. He feels all of Spider's pain, so he's terrified and scared BUT ALSO CRANKY. He’s saying slightly rude things to his parents and he’s beating the shit out of Ao’nung before Lo’ak can even try. Man is testy. And he's shit at learning to breathe, he is not feeling calm or patient.

-The soulmate au where you can take the others wounds, imagine Spider taking the bullet wound even after they have a (spider inflicted cause he gets hurt more often) pact to not take each others wounds and pain. Horrifying. I have been wondering about the logistics tho, because Spider's body is proportionally different than Neteyam's, would the wound appear somewhere else on his body that would help him possibly survive? I can't decide.

-Oh my god also a version where they hadn't realized yet they were soulmates. Neteyam's all of a sudden devastated and horrified that he's alive at the cost of his soulmate, one he never got to meet, only to look over and notice Spider keeling over. TRAGEDY. pLS I need comfort fics too.

-There’s enough torture porn in this fandom I’m waiting for my Spider romcom. I want to be surprised by how right things start going for my boy, it's never surprising when all the things go bad all the time for him. I want that fucking fast food nocorro au I got so into. I want my soulmate au but they notice from the beginning so they accept him and raise him or something.

-Speaking of a little modern nocorro romcom (still with plenty of angst tho) I’m telling you I’m right Neteyam is P E A K I can fix him. He clocks Spider and is like “now there’s a boy I can fix (sexual).” His sexuality is will my dick cure him? Yes.

-Spider like, coughs once and Neteyam's like that sickly little loser of a man is Mine now, wow. Wow I am going to Save him and it'll be so satisfying. The man has a savior complex you can't convince me otherwise. That meme like "if I had a lame ass boyfriend I would hype him up so hard," that's Neteyam.

-I've always thought that Neteyam and Spider's problems and fights would always be over Neteyam trying to fix all of Spider's problems. Like Spider is just venting about his dad and Neteyam is like "so I'm on the phone with CPS and we're filing a report" and Spider's like "oh my fucking god I just wanted you to listen??" And Neteyam's like but babe I can fix it.

-Neteyam's GROWTH is him like learning to grit his teeth and literally sit on his hands as he forces himself to let Spider have his own problem instead of Babygirl-ifying him. He's literally Too Pure Too Good For This World in the most annoying way possible, he thinks everything can be fixed but maybe Spider's just gotta be broke, we can't superglue this one back together.

-Then Spider's like what if he won't like me if I'm not broken anyway? And it's a whole other complex and a whole other set of issues.

I hope you've enjoyed this word vomit of terrible angst, I need help and I need fluff.

[cryptidcanid19]

I just read your Vandalize fanfic on AO3 and I just wanted to tell you how AMAZING it was??? It was so good and I don't think I've ever read a Hi-Fi RUSH fanfic that was so high quality before. And it was all in character too which was UUGGH it was so good. Do you have any tips for how you write?? I'm just obsessed with how you wrote the whole thing!!

TEEHEE TY!!! It was an idea I had stewing in my brain for a few days before I actually did anything with it. So glad you enjoyed it so far!

As for writing tips, I'm gonna be honest and say I overexplain things. A lot. It's like some special breed of autism for me to just describe things in intense detail because I have so much to talk about. I turn my brain off and just... write. Whenever I got stuck I utilized Sprinto on Discord for that extra motivation, plus it was fun to see how much I could write in a short timeframe. It also helps to have a few friends willing to read what I have/share ideas that I can use for the current chapter or for later ones. Believe me, the fic is only barely starting.

I also tend to overanalyze characters. Can't tell you how much time I spent rewatching playthroughs and scouring the wiki to get a feel for everyone's personalities. Hi-Fi Rush is just one of those games that captivates me like an iPad baby's daily dose of Cocomelon. It really helped to write down canon quirks, personal headcannons, and extra lore I came up with before I actually worked on the fic itself.

Shoutout to my friend Dragon for suggesting making Kale trans btw. It was subtly nodded to in the fic but will be expanded upon a lot more in a future chapter. Probably one of the best ideas he's ever had. I'm such a sucker for unlikely T4T.

I will say the themes get a lot darker later on. I turn Kale into a sopping wet cat of a man and I don't intend on holding back on making him the most tragic character I've ever written; And that's a MASSIVE bar to pass considering my work involving my Sonic and Pokémon AUs.

TY again! I probably rambled a lot here LMAO I'm just glad to see people like what I do for fun. I hope you look forward to what's in store :]

For those who haven't read it yet (and are over the age of 18. I beg. ) you can read Vandalize here!

[mothdruid]

hi hello! it's your daily dose of alex bugs you for you celly!! 🥳🥳 and today I bring you some thotty thots - now these thotty thots in particular have been brought up before - but I can not for the life of me stop thinking about it so;

Bob Floyd is a pussy eating king. I know it, you know it, he knows it. But I've had time to ponder, listen, I just know that man is obsessed with it. Like as soon as he caught his first glimpse of someone licking pussy in a porn mag as a teen, he was just hooked. He wanted to know everything. Like I just know that he watched porn, like studied almost what they were doing, and he tried his way around different things, trying to find what the women he slept with liked.

And he found he got off on it too - if he palmed his hard cock, rutted it against the mattress just right, he could blow too no worries. And so I just feel like if you were in a relationship with Bob and you had a day off, that man would love just laying in bed like lazily eating you out, just switching between languidly kissing and licking and sucking at you and sort of just enjoying himself, to like more intense - got to have my mouth all over you sections where he'd make you cum so hard you'd see stars, before he started over with his lazy stimulation. God. I need him. Bye, this has been an alex thotty thot!

HOLY FUCK, ALEX. THIS. THIS!!!

I love this idea so much. Bob is the kind of person who 100% gets off on his significant others pleasure. Him rutting into the bed as he eats you out, not enough to make him cum, but just enough to keep himself on edge. But then when you're coming, so is he.

come join my birthday weekend!!!

[dominicdavis]

closed starter for @charlotteoh

location: the daily dose

Coffee in hand, he paused when he realized who was in the cafe with him. He couldn't stop the frown from forming on his lips at the sight of Charlotte because she just reminded him of Jake. The whole thing with that woman who couldn't drive working alone was something he just didn't buy, and Dom knew he'd get in a lot of trouble if he actually talked about this out loud, but he pored over every news report he could find. Every detail was taken into account, his newfound obsession after Lucia's death, and he just didn't understand why nobody was commenting on the fact that Adee had also been strangulated. Didn't that mean there was a struggle? And was he really supposed to sit here and believe a woman a whole foot shorter than Jake won that fight? Regardless, Dom couldn't hide the distaste of being around an Oh right now, even if that Oh was Charlotte. "Hey," Dom said, his tone cold. He wasn't about to comfort the sister of someone he didn't completely believe was innocent. After all, he'd seen the look in that man's eyes during their fight. "Uh... what's up?"

[itoshi-s]

zari ! ! i wan hear how u n' rinnie met ^V^ ! don't spare anyyyy detail i wan hear all da juicy stuffs :3c

COCO < 333 thank yew 4 asking beloved cuz i am so excited to talk abt this hehe it makes me blush just thinkin about it !!! >_<

the very first time we encounter each other is at a local cafe in paris !! he's a pro player for psg, i'm here for my internship after moving out to continue education in sports psychology. simple as that !! and we both need some pick-me-up coffee to start the day. rin stands in line behind me when i order a latte and my favorite croissant - and it just happens to be the last one. i joke around with the cashier on how it must be my lucky day then,, and right as i say it rin sighs and tells whoever he's on the phone with that they have just ran out& he has to get something else. i turn to look at him and tell him that it's okay, i don't mind getting something else instead - and i recognize him and get all sheepish 😭 cause he IS so tall and intimidating and looks way too annoyed for his own good, and it is THE rin itoshi after all. he lifts the phone from his ear and shakes his head before insisting i take it, it's fine. ryusei might as well just not get his daily sugar dose this time, it's not a big deal, he thinks. he's not going to make a fuss out of it. i ask if he's sure and he nods, and because i want this interaction to b over already i just go thru and buy it </3 i tell the cashier to pack it to go & she's a bit surprised cause i'm usually the regular sitting in the corner and studying for hours on end,, but i tell her i just need something to sweeten up my day in case my first day at work turns out worse than expected !! she gets all excited and we laugh a bit and rin's a bit on the rush, but he doesn't mind, and it feels a bit funny to him, but he doesn't pay that much mind to it. but just when i'm about to walk away &wait at the end of the bar he turns to me& tells me good luck :( you already know i nearly trip over my feet when i go to walk away akjsfhask by this point i am a mess!!!!!!

now when we PROPERLY meet each other it's barely a few hours later, at the training centre, and i step out of the office after signing all the remaining documents i need to go through w/ my internship. i don't really know my way around the building that well yet &take a few wrong turns, so when i can't find my way out to the field where i'm supposed to meet the team for the very first time, i go to ask a guy that happens to walk past. and of course it's him :,3 i only ever notice when he turns to me & we're both surprised - he has every right to be, me not so much cause ... i knew where i was signing up lol - and he tells me he's going that way too, has some dumb meeting with their health team, so we can walk together. "why'd you think it's dumb?" i ask and he shrugs a bit. "it's not like we really need it. what, you one of them?" rin looks down on me and it just sorta clicks - the first day at work, now me looking for where the meeting takes place - and he smiles a bit. "i see. well there's nothing to be scared of. ryusei, maybe." he deadpans & i nearly cry 😭 cause WHY would u bring up the one (1) most unhinged man among all of u akjfdhsl and then he adds, "he wasn't too happy when i told him you took his croissant."

........tldr; we meet bc of work but it's sweet & perhaps fate played a part in it too :3 he's not too keen of having a psychologist gf cause he's scared i'll end up analyzing him LOL i'm just like.. no babes i've a whole football team 2 look after whenever something goes wrong my world doesn't spin around u . (it's a lie. it does. we're obsessed w each other) KJASHDK COCO I HOPE I GAVE ALL THE DEETS ....... i'm feeling a lil silly 4 how long this turned out but welp :,3 i love love looooove our lore &love talkin abt it even more !!! MWAH

[nshtn]

Wesker is a man of no half-measures whose risks are calculated. You are one of his finest researchers, growing on him like a moss.

He should reward your hard work in his name, shouldn't he?

You reach bubbling, dangerous fever pitch when you ask him to indulge a little fantasy of yours - good doctor, bad doctor... unfortunately for you, he has much grander, lavish ideas than that. He also has every chemical substance manufactured in the last thirty years at his disposal.

This is a trust fall, and Wesker inflicts the rise and the plunge; will you sink or swim? Do you trust him with a butterfly needle?

11.6k, tags: medical - medfet;dubious science experiments;gloves;iv / needles;labcoat;pharmacokinetics, intox - consensual aphrodisiac;fantasy drug, nsft - blood;biting/marking;dom wesker sub reader;edging;sadomasochism;overstim;penetration, themes of obsession, PW(much)P/reader uses gn pronouns & female genitalia - technically an in-universe 'continuation' of Mind the Gap.

1st fic of C Complex. | 2nd | AO3

This had been planned for longer than you could think of – in some way, at least, floated as an idea that had become more and more coherent the longer you knew the mysterious virologist until you found yourself sitting in a medical bed somewhere within the confines of your workplace, closed off from the rest of its’ office-spaces and lab-units.

You’d thought that he’d use the opportunity, when you’d first brought it up, to bully you, but instead he’d made a tentative hum and raised his pointer finger to his chin, shades trained on you as a single eyebrow arched with the heady temptation of the power that he’d hold over you if he did it.

God… you trusted him with that? To play God over you in his own right? To take the reigns of your mind – to inject you with a drug, far above pharmaceutical standards, and use it as an aphrodisiac while maintaining your consciousness?

You were very stupid or very brave, or, the third option: very desperate. He found that his thoughts warred over which of the three you presided on – surely, you had at least some awareness of the truly terrible amount of blood that stained his hands, so what made you trust the world’s best virologist (...and phlebotomist – Excella not withstanding) with decommissioned medical equipment and TRICELL’s finest supply of Cellegelyn Hydrochloride?

Was it because you trusted him with something far more superficial – your daily dose of medication – though he’d show you the swirling liquid each time? He wouldn’t now; oh no, he’d leave it in the air and see if that would make you squirm a little.

With the perceived safe danger of it. With the thoughts that would cloud your mind, and your own reaction to them. Oh, he’d prepared – he was no man of half measures.

Filthy minx. He supposes you did tame him, however – his violent urges spared you, replaced with an intense need for you to provide him stress-relief when you were within his presence. The self control it took not to run tongue over bare skin and bite when he was stressed out of his mind… you knew, didn’t you, little devil?

L-deprenyl. Enantiopure from Deprenyl, unnecessaries trimmed for your body’s convenience and your mind’s sanity – you were getting the best of the best, something that wasn’t even considered marketable. He wasn’t looking for your complete, stolen submission under the duress of a sunken mind; he wanted your willing, pleading submission handed to him as the MAO-B affinity bled into MAO-A. The infusion system would drip-feed your pliant, greedy vein far past the tipping point of a pharmaceutical dose.

In theory, this would be a slow build-up and the ride of a lifetime – literally, considering the inflictor. The excitotoxicity, though, was fine-tuned compared to the sledgehammer of a much rougher, barbaric chemical that prodded dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine out of unwilling receptors mindlessly... Oh, no, this was measured; this would trigger within the context of the situation. If you didn’t want it, then it wasn’t going to force your hand. And that was the real magic of it, wasn’t it? To see you squirm with how badly you’d want him to control you… to watch you beg for his touch, for more, for less; it hardly mattered, he just wanted to feel the rawness of your need – as long as you wanted him.

Only him, though.

Perhaps that was what made you desire this so strongly from him specifically? You could’ve asked someone else, but you’d delegated it to him.

You were always quick to fluster when he’d do anything that might tease at the seams of your mind and unfurl the fringes of your deeper feelings – you weren’t very good at hiding them, no. But that was something so appealing about you: undeniably book-smart even to him, yet your social defenses were lacking in the thickness of your mask. Your cheeks would pop with color at the slightest provocations – when he’d compliment your papers or handwriting, when he’d inject your thigh and run his nitrile-gloved fingers exaggeratedly over your bare skin, when he’d pull his labcoat’s arm up to his elbow and you’d watch, hungry-eyed and slack-jawed, at the way his veins shifted and his muscles tensed as he depressed the plunger of a syringe, bead at its’ tip swelling with the threat of spilling.

What an interesting little specimen… distracting thing. He was surprised he had yet to spill anything – a testament to the degree of his precision, he supposed. You’d make for a fine subject in testing the true unchained abuse potential of L-deprenyl.

Really, you should thank him for what he was about to do to you. There was a lot of other things he could do rather than fuck his finest researcher hopped up on a harmless discontinued psychostimulant. He had to admit it, too: he wanted you under him, surrendering and breathless, with a ferocious depth even he had not yet come to fully understand. None of the pieces of his set were intended for what he was about to do with them – it was its’ own breed of blasphemy, but something in that made his cock stir with the event that would transpire.

That Wesker would inject you and fuck with you until you were little more than a puddle that didn’t know what you wanted. Fucked-out under his touch, quivering and moaning long after his hands and hips would cease. Fuck, you’d be so cute like that.

And you couldn’t help it – there was an incredible intimacy in the needles he’d sank into your skin. You’d done them first, but then he’d took an interest and all-too-conveniently chided your skills in rotating your spots. Then he’d taken over for you, and it’d really only been downhill in the sheer depth of your bludgeoning crush since then: you had come to find that there was a radical intimacy he took to when he did it, always a sort of deftly placed respect for the needle he used as if a reverent tool, lack of clinical detachment clear in the way he’d languish in your squirming.

You kept coming back. You weren’t that socially maligned – he figured you must’ve liked it. Liked the attention, liked the gentleness from a man who could snap you. Yes, you liked when he played nice. And he had to admit it: you were remarkably tolerable. Or, at least, you’d grown to be.

That gave him pause sometimes. Since when had he grown so soft for another? It didn’t matter, though, did it? Who would stop him – Spencer? Marcus? Their precious Doctrine? Ha. No. Only their ghost. And he’d vanquished the idea of that when—

You were just… you were stubborn like that. An extremophile of your own, well aware of the danger and lambasting yourself in his presence regardless of blaring, bleary red. Though, after all, he’d hired you as a temp and you’d turned it into a permanent position through the deathly combination of your brains and your unwitting, accidental charisma. You reminded him of someone he used to know – someone who had been a lab partner, too... but you were soft where that man had been hard. You didn’t seem to hunger for power at all – you just wanted for connection, for knowledge (and he could’ve said that about the man he’d known at one point, too, but their lifetimes had corrupted them both beyond the grasp of a simpleminded humanity) – and Wesker could give you these things as easily as he could breathe.

No, it wasn’t hard to be a chameleon to someone who barely cared whether you even wore the mask these days. He dreaded to admit it to himself, but you were terribly, awfully, horribly amicable. Maybe that was a negative observation – to get along with him? Did you possess a superego? Oh, what was he saying – of course you did. Yours was just better than everyone else’s, like his.

Anyway, your daily injection was just your medicine, nothing more than a routine with a sprinkling of powerplay from him – but now? Now it didn’t have to be. Now he could take it to the next level.

You tap your leg against the bed with an air of mild impatience. You’d like it better that way: he could stop pretending he had any degree of detachment. He wasn’t any more subtle than you. Did he think he was?

A shiver of anticipation ran up your spine as Wesker approached, light gray labcoat, black turtleneck, black pants, distinct lack of a tactical belt a sore thumb in his appearance and what he had planned as he leaned his frame into your personal space.

“Hello there,” he punctuated, simply. His gloved fingers reached out and two digits slithered from the edge of your jawline to the fat of your neck, where they pressed in your soft flesh until your chin tilted to meet the intensity of his gaze at an odd angle. It wasn’t entirely comfortable – though perhaps that was intentional. “Are you… ready for your treatment?” A statement more than a question – and dripping with sin you both knew, thin veneer of professionalism no cover.

So very abrupt, though. You’d have to adjust.

“Oh, yes, Doctor Wesker,” you quipped back, finding it somewhere in you – heart thumping a beat faster – to bring your hand up to settle at his chest. He’s far quicker than you with his own, grabbing your sluggish wrist in his hands, a sliver of skin peeking from his labcoat and muscles taut with the strength of his grip. “Ah ah ah,” he tuts, chiding gently as he lets your hand down at your side, “touching is my job. You wouldn’t want to render me jobless, would you?”

In any true professional environment, this would shatter his medical license irrevocably. And yet… and yet, with this knowledge, you huffed a laugh and a hot, bothered breath in one. “Of course not.”

Wesker responds with an appraising look, gentle upturn in the corners of his mouth approvingly. “Good. Good.”

A moment of silence passes as he cases you, adjusting his shades, letting them drift down the bridge of his nose with the aid of gravity until he’s certain they’ll nearly fall off. You sit up a little in the bed as he lets go of your jaw, fingertip slinking away. Then, he removes the offending pair himself, tucking them in a breast pocket when it doesn’t go as he planned.

No matter – that magmatic gaze is fully trained on you, now, no degree of separation from which to cloak itself in. Both parties run deep with unspoken desires, it seems.

“Any doctor will tell you that all operations start with preparation of the patient,” he begins, smile dripping away into a natural disguise of cool neutrality as he reaches behind your bed and pulls a holter monitor out, placing it on your stomach and bending over you – your nose filling with the oddly compelling scent of dark, earthy-sweet vetiver, black orchid and the sanitized dichotomy of ozone – to fetch three leads.

You bring your hands out to help him, but his free hand darts out to them, warm glove brushing your digits to remind you to still yourself silently.

You flush a little. You’re not used to this level of Wesker’s unbidden attentions or this degree of enforced helplessness – and it was only going to become more prominent as the night passed. You’d expected a little when he’d unexpectedly agreed to this – but he’d really… he’d gone above and beyond your… your simple idea.

Loyal to a fault, you raise your arms above your head and he pulls your gown up, chest exposed to cold and bare air. Goosebumps raise as he trails his fingers ever-so-lightly, gaze trained on your soft, supple, easily-broken skin. He makes a noise of further approval as he attaches the leads to the holter monitor and slips one under one breast, the cold sinking in and making you shiver a sound of your own that makes you clear your throat.

How uncouth. He hadn’t even gotten started and your tiny mind was already his playground.

“So eager,” he croons out-of-character, voice low and dripping timbre and a little grit as he places the other cold lead.

The third has his hand sliding with an indecent slowness up your bunched fabric, deliberately placing the last of the leads high on your chest so he can swipe his wandering digits across the canvas of you.

“You want this treatment, don’t you?” It’s consent wrapped in the easily-swallowed pill of his role as the good doctor.

But, god, how you wanted the bad doctor to come out.

“Yes, I’ve…” you quibble, “I’ve wanted it for so long.” You avert your gaze with a shyness one part real and two parts theatrical. You should’ve been an actor, the way his eyebrows twitch from their normal cinch a little before they settle again. To pull that out of a man who prided himself on his degree of control… or to know that he laxed his walls around you… both contributed equally to the reverence that had him hanging the stars in your eyes.

Like a tiger that bared its’ teeth upon you but never truly bit down. A monster of a man in the palm of your hands, offering some hidden facet of himself for you to cast your adoration upon.

The trust alone from the closed and thorny mind of a razor-sharp intellect could make you moan a little. You instead tilt your head at him, and Wesker’s vision creeps up into your own. If you were truly guileless, you might’ve thought his lens contained a degree of insecurity with the weight of your silent affectations, like you might not like what you’d find.

As if this meant something to him. You cast it out of your mind – there’s no way. But perhaps you don’t notice that he stiffens and then relaxes with a breath a little too deep.

“You’re going to get it, don’t worry,” it’s a sultry hum, and he’s holding down the power button on the device laying on your stomach until it powers on. Three lead mode. He’d even charged it. Damn.

You both fall into a comfortable silence as he turns on the infusion system – a TC Atlantis, a collection of many features in one and no doubt a climbing expense to license that was pristine and unblemished by the horrors that it was steeped in – and sets it to 80. You wonder to yourself the degree of what this machine has seen in its’ time, what stories it would tell if it could. The flow it’s set to seems slow...

You trust him with it out of necessity. You lend him the same trust he’s lending you in this moment, and perhaps you are a fool for it – but that’s part of the fun, the not explicitly knowing. You squirm a little, pressing your legs together with the intention of drawing him from what he’s doing.

Wesker’s hand strays from the machine, now set, to your leg, giving it a curt pat as he returns dutifully to it. You still caught him, but he was nothing if not a careful and well-disciplined man.

But the wisp of warmth that swirls around in your abdomen curls and inflames as Wesker hooks up a harmless bag of saline – with a little potassium, he might add – to the machine, hitting a setting at the bottom before he turns to you. “Now, just let me fetch your… analgesic,” he offers, a stumble in the search for words that fit his current role as he briefly reaches out for your hand and gives it an ever-so-polite squeeze.

You flash him a knowing smirk. “Take your time,” you reply gently, though you both know that the wait is torture.

The virologist stalks off momentarily with the sound of his black boots clicking like heels against the pristine, sanitary tile, and you are left to stew in your curiosity. A frown tugs at you. The Atlantis is set to a custom name instead of what it should really be, merely labeled ‘pain relief’. That must’ve been what he’d been gently tapping in.

Is the effort a matter of pride? It seems like so much.

You look around you and it all truly sets in as you curiously bring your arm up to you, careful not to disturb the holter monitor – a mean eighty six beats per minute and a wonderful ninety eight percent saturation – as you move the bracelet with your fingers, admiring his work. It’s an admission bracelet to a fake hospital, but your name, birth date, weight, eye color, and gender are all perfectly correct – and he’d never taken birth date or weight from you. Something about that makes the curl of warmth in you tighten a little. The stakes increase – the danger – and what you know he knows.

About… about you. What else does he know? The unknown fills itself with contextually relevant info that makes your cheeks burn a small deal before he’s even done a thing. How did he get that information?

But Wesker returns before you can continue to dwell beneath the surface of it. You let go of the bracelet before he can notice, your curious eyes searching the small bag and insertion needle – its’ tip as small as he can afford to go, a butterfly needle a nicety in the name of your creature comforts.

“Which arm?” he says, leaning forward and right back into your space a little. You mock up a ‘hmm’ before you offer the one closest to the Atlantis. The damn bag had its’ label removed. Some part of you feels outclassed by this and demands brattiness to make up for it, but the threat of getting stuck wrong has you on your best behavior. “This one, please, sir,” you drawl.

He tosses a glance straight at you, eyes teeming with a darkness to their gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. Do you know? Do you know the fire with which you are constantly playing with? You stoke a flame you can’t hope to vanquish, you lovesick fool… but he doesn’t voice the projection he’s heaped upon you.

He doesn’t compress it either, curiously – but it drains away nonetheless as he breaks two of his fingers from one of his black nitrile gloves, fingers breaching the material. He pulls an overly-convenient isopropyl alcohol pad from his labcoat and generously rubs the tips of his fingers with a bit too much attention and panache before he brings the same pad to your offered inner arm, sliding it entirely from there – “Do you prefer insertion… here?” – all the way to your inner wrist, where he rubs it a little more insistently until your mouth goes dry, massaging the alcohol in – “or here?”

God, he plays with his food, doesn’t he?

And he plays so well, so gently, little circles against the sides of your wrist as your inner nerves adjust to his touch, making your body twitch a little. So pliant, so easy that he can’t help himself… “I-I don’t-- I don’t mind,” you stutter, flexing your fingers a little as he brushes against such sensitive, smooth skin.

That makes him let out a huff of a laugh with a short pause.

Still so eager – even now. The lamb walks to slaughter itself… “The veins here are easier to see,” he lies coolly, pinprick cat eyes casing your reaction and the splotches of telltale color that rise in you at it. Aren’t you an odd one? His pointer finger brushes it intently, rolling it back, and forth, and back, and forth along the tendon it sits, pushing it down a little like a tensile cord in faux demonstration that makes your breath hitch.

Fuck, you really are a devil. Are you a masochist?

“It responds very well,” Wesker adds, then, emphasis on ‘very well’ as his gaze falls back to real concentration as he fetches his needle, one extra dab of alcohol at your wrist for extra-extra-sure as he uncaps it. You hold your breath. He holds the needle close to your hand. “Don’t ball your fist – that’s schlock.” Ah, Wesker always used such… odd eloquence – old and regal. Apparently, according to him (he’d told you, at least) Umbrella taught him a lot of them. But it’s befitting of someone with his status, somehow. Right now, he’s both antagonist and protagonist. “Mhm,” you nod, keeping your arm still.

He stops, then, free hand wrapping around the side of your arm that faced down to trap your wrist in place as his other hand closed in with the needle, those slit eyes of his intently calculating where to stick you to get a clean hit. Or if he even should – if he should intentionally miss and dig and see if you squirm, or how much of a social misstep it would be to selfishly indulge in his own sadism.

But he chooses not to play with an unknown variable, giving a little huff at his unspoken desire to make you hurt so well before he leans in a little more. Then, like that, he strikes – it’s over swiftly, needle breaking your tender skin and ravaging the vein wall. A tiny click sounds out as the sharp is disposed, and a tinier tube that leads out is the only remainder of the action.

...huh? All that lead up and… “Wow. That was… I didn’t expect that,” you say, blinking a little despite yourself. You can’t help it – you expected it to be more… more painful. He chuckles, and it morphs at its’ tail end from something lighthearted to painfully dark.

“Perhaps I should forget a little,” is all the doctor offers you from the unwoven threads of his thoughts, deep and wizened by the ports he’s placed in times past. “Would you like that next time, my patient?” You give a tiny gasp as the situation is re-acquainted with you, the elusive ‘my’ making your brain twirl. It doesn’t mean anything, of course it doesn’t, but it’s another part of a grand set aimed at the warmth slowly spreading through you. “I think you could s-stand the humbling,” you shoot back, smirking.

Alas, he brings reality into you by pressing a little on the insertion point, which causes you to instantly cringe with the uncomfortable digging sensation. Ouch.

“Hm? What’s that?” he purrs out, smug, and he does it again as an experiment, viperous eyes digging past your own with unrestricted glee. You suck in a breath and hiss through it, but his other two fingers are applying enough pressure that trying to pull your arm away won’t work without injury to the wall itself. “Fuck, that is an odd sensation,” you growl out, eyelids crinkling.

Wesker chuckles. It breaks off into a manic, deep bark of a giggle that is somehow as much powerplay as it is oddly, inescapably genuine. You’re… your facial expression simply caught him – like an ant with light bearing down on it or… or something. He’s in control of the situation, he can spare the emotion, he reasons away.

“What a dirty mouth,” he says. And before you can object, he leans forward and your lips brush – then meet – a quick, chaste kiss before he pulls back. “Mm. Spreading your disease,” he quips, shaking his head a little at his own virologist humor. That one could use a little more tinkering, he thinks.

“A-Ahuh,” you say, eyes lidding a little as you move your head forward just enough to try and re-capture his thin, soft, frustratingly far lips. He punishes you for your greediness by reminding you of his grip on that fucking point and, in spite of yourself, you moan a little, and then your horrified expression nearly kills him again.

“So responsive,” he croons, belittling, letting go of it entirely before he gets carried away; he doesn’t want to collapse anything. Then again, he could restick your other arm...

But you can tell that he’s reluctant. You can nearly smell it on him – a shark that has snagged its’ tooth and barely restrains the desire to really pull. “It was the kiss,” you pout, eyebrows drawing together with a pitiful look that is befitting of your current position, if anything.

“Hm. Of course. Typical,” Wesker asserts. He might not even be joking – “Just how many kisses do you dispense on average, doctor?” You quirk one of those pity-brows.

He regards you, blinks a little at your comment, seeking its’ intent. Then, he relaxes – you’re not the jealous type. No, not like he’s becoming. The thought of your lips on anyone else’s makes him want to grab your shirt and make you the outlier. But, he has to admit it: you’ve already become a statistical anomaly in his world…

“Hmm. One or two, if I’ve deduced that they’re susceptible,” he admits, and the honesty surprises you. It makes sense, though – he’s married to business, but he’ll do what business demands to make deals.

You nod a little, nonchalantly.

The fire seeks to burn you, though – he seizes your shoulder instead of your shirt and presses his lips to yours again, a little more insistent. You gasp and he pulls back a little, but then he’s back on you, and you’re surrounded in his delicious scent, and he smells quite macabre like black orchids warring with the isopropyl and too much hand sanitizer, and it’s odd but beneath it all you can smell the diluted day’s sweat of him.

That makes you have to bite your own cheek not to chase the contact when he breaks it again, finally satisfied with having painted a more dazed expression on you.

More pressing matters await than the continuation of discussion, though, and Wesker forces himself to focus on something other than his urge to take and taste the object of his own bud of crawling, itching desire.

“Now,” he says, breaking the moment, “time to begin treatment.” He sounds a touch breathless and it makes the corners of your mouth turn up a little. Not so unaffected now, huh?

He looks back to the TC Atlantis and moves from nearly leaning into you to adjust it. You watch as he fiddles with the bag he’s got. He produces a small syringe – no steel tip this time, rubber – and attaches it to the end of the bag, pulling back the plunger with two fingers until it’s filled with a measure of white, unassuming liquid.

What could it possibly be? You hum a little, eyes narrowing. Knowing the man you’ve come to acquaint yourself with, it could be nothing but more saline – or it could be something insane, like… like ketamine. Or something like that. You hope not – that’s a bit much for you.

Wesker picks up on it, though his red slits remain focused on what he’s preoccupied with. “Having second thoughts, little lamb?” This new addition makes you swallow and avert your prying eyes. “I’d hope not,” he adds, a little darkly, “it’s a little late to be turning back, don’t you think?”

Because you won’t be, not soon, he thinks. But he doesn’t say that.

You churn with an eccentric mixture of sudden illumination to your situation and a surge of lust. No escape… Your breathing gets a little heavier and the corners of his mouth turn up. “I understand that this is hard for you,” he assures, though he’s put on all the theatrical professionalism of a patient’s advocate, “but please,” it drops from that into something serious as his eyes turn to yours, smile falling, “don’t worry – I’m an expert.”

And Wesker says it with such courage that you just nod. You are in too deep now. But, god, it feels good to be surrounded.

He pulls the syringe out, satisfied, and lines it up with one of the branches on your IV, screwing it in. Before he begins, though, he stops. “Are you ready?” The way Wesker says it, slow and dragged out, is as if you will be hit with something dreadfully strong. The calpain potential makes you tremble lightly.

“It’s… it’s nothing truly insane, right?” You look to him for safety, and he shelters your mind with a scoff, as if the mere notion escapes him. “Of course not. I am interested in how you’ll fare with it, though,” he admits, one hand brushing your hand to impart his presence. It’s shockingly intimate, somehow.

It’s also all you need to be bewitched by such a dangerous, cunning, calculating man. For all you know, this is a sick trap and you’re crawling onto his sacrificial altar. What if it’s… what if… but then Wesker’s making unbroken eye contact with you as he pushes on the plunger, looking at your eyes for anything, and you greet that with a whimper that makes him smile a little. It climbs into a very toothy little smirk, one canine peeking as the final Cellegelyn in the syringe disappears in you.

But you don’t feel different, and you blink. Do you have some kind of immunity? “Um…”

He doesn’t respond, he just nods a little, as if he knows, and he adjusts the bag and the speed of its’ draining – he sets it up to mix with the saline on 100. That’s… a little quicker. “Mm, we’re just getting started,” he says, hint of something predatory emerging as the seconds eclipse.

You gulp and chuckle nervously. “Am I supposed t-t-to… to feel any d-different?” You can’t help it – you feel a tug of disappointment at the lack of anything noticeable. “Not necessarily. Not yet. Patience, patient,” he chides, holding a single gloved finger up at your worried protest. Wesker does something a little more like when the two of you are alone rather than as a doctor; he leans both of his arms against the side of your bed – which would, in your shared lab unit, be his chair, usually – and regards you.

There’s a sort of artificial softness imbued there. Is it weird if you find his effort endearing? It should scare you. You can, at least, cast out the thought that he somehow got his hands on a dose of uncharacteristically gritless Progenitor-based-something. If you’d mentioned your concern he would smack you, and you’re sure of that, too.

He interrupts to ask you a question. You see it, now – the desire behind that cold, creeping gaze. I want you, it says. He’s quiet, almost a silver, electric whisper. “What do you want?” It’s so charged.

You quirk a brow, but then you let the statement wash over you. What do you want? To continue. But what do you want? “I want you,” you say, nodding with certainty. He smirks, brows drawing together at that in approval.

“That’s it,” he compliments, and then he puts a hand on your stomach, brushing up and up your skin.

You shiver as he does. It feels… very nice. Then, he dips it beneath your gown again and traces over the leads he’s placed, hand climbing higher very slowly as he appraises you. The texture of the glove, warm and clinical, makes you huff. And then you whimper, and he gives a little ‘oh?’ and continues, dancing his fingertips along your sternum before he draws his hand back down, down, down, against your thigh, tips of his prim and proper nails brushing against your skin.

It feels really good – really, really good, and it makes you arch a little. Oh. “That… that feels n-nice,” you qualify, and your free arm twitches as it attempts to reach to him to guide him.

You stop yourself.

He doesn’t stop himself, though. He gives a tiny tug to that catheter with his free hand and you crinkle so beautifully as the sensation climbs through you, moaning a little, drawing your thighs together and clenching them gently – so helpless, so adorable. And all his to play with, now.

Putty.

“Struggling, lamb?” Wesker chuckles accusingly, letting go and sliding his hand up your arm instead, the touch erupting fresh goosebumps across your skin and making you lean into it as if starved. “Whatever you gave me is- is… y’know,” you avoid, beginning to flush more.

His touch is a lot – but it’s not enough, you want more. He chuckles a little more as you shoot him a very desperate glance.

“What ever happened to patience, hm?” But even as he says it, Wesker is sliding his hands over you and grasping at your grabbable hips, making you shift to allow him better access. “Feisty,” he breathes, digging his digits into them. You moan pathetically – the sensation is enhanced, spilling out from your hips and feeding your core like a direct connection you didn’t know you dialed. “T-That’s… nice…” you comment, eyes wrenched shut as you surrender yourself to more sensation.

The TC Atlantis clicks and filters more into your vein in the background. Everything is starting to feel like a pleasantry, just a little bit better than it should be – even just background noise that fills your ears, almost… musical.

Wesker acknowledges you with an affected sigh as a hand dips nearer to the corner of your thigh, massaging the flesh with deft, experimenting swipes of his fingers. You buck a little trying to encourage him to where, optimally, you’d prefer him, but your insistence is met with his resistance. “Not yet. But… soon.” He’s a little lax because he notices your eyes have dilated significantly.

You mewl in return, pleading at him – “How soon?” – and buck your hips a little.

“Soon,” Wesker repeats, a bit more snippy and sharp, letting go of your thigh a little hesitantly. You miss the warmth of it, your own desires laid bare as your brows press up together pleadingly even without the prosody of your speech.

He pushes down the bed’s arm and leans forward, then, forcing your lips against his own. It’s surprisingly sweet and needing of you, like the more he notices that you’re falling under the Cellegelyn, the more of himself climbs out from his chest.

From his shell.

You’re hopelessly addicted to that, grasping, perhaps, at the ghost of what you perceive as closeness, moving your lips on his own, digging your hands into the sides of your bed so you don’t try to lean forward to grab his – because you know, cognitively, that the intimacy will get you punished. He massages the pads of his thumbs at your hips all over again, hard,kneading sensitive flesh to the point of bruising as his tongue laps at your lower lip, and you open your mouth obediently, if sloppily, letting him in with a yelp.

Letting him all in. God, please. You moan into his mouth at his grip strength and you swear he drinks it in. You are massaging his ego so excellently. What an entertainment. He’s surprised at how fast it’s kicking in – aren’t you just dearly receptive? Some kind of polymorphism or something, perhaps? What a malleable little oddity.

Wesker’s tongue rolls against your own and even now, you notice it – it’s longer and leaner than a normal person’s, pressing into your wanting mouth with the strength of his need as you moan again into his own. He swallows the sound down, lips synchronizing with your own pair only enough that your mixing saliva doesn’t spill from you. You’re forced to swallow because you’re producing so much, and the sensations running through you make your legs furl and whimpers spring from you.

Your face is cherry red, and he stops kissing you to let you heave breaths in with a satisfied sound, only to nudge his nose up against yours in a tease before he leans back the rest of the way.

Wesker, of course, lacks the same embarrassing composure-drop – aside from a string of hair that peeks forward and the way his labcoat leans over your legs, he’s still perfectly normal. How frustrating. “And…” he sucks a breath in, himself, “...and how is the treatment progressing? How do you feel?”

His eyes are trained on yours, searching as he thumbs your hips with apparent absentmindedness, no longer the grip he had before, sparingly. Those pupils are so intense – and they always have been, but they’re even more intense now. They also gleam a little brighter, something you take great interest in as the cue that he’s feeling something and you’re not alone. It makes sense that he wears his shades so often, because without them, those eyes – and how bright or dim they are – are peepholes into a grander being.

You look a little dazed, but you manage to swallow a bit more, clear your throat and speak through the warmth that clamors through your guts, pawing insistently at the seams of your mind. It’s odd – your wits, you find, are still about you – at least partially. You don’t feel dumb. Perhaps you feel loose, but you’re not out of control. Everything just feels so good, and everything that makes you feel makes you feel so much.

You squirm... you’ve been doing a lot of that. It makes Wesker smirk with a self-satisfaction. “I-It’s going very well, d-d-doctor Wesker,” you reply, though you sound far more affected than you mean to. Or is that just the perfect representation of your slow, marching unraveling?

“Mhmm...” He stops crowding your space and pretends to immerse himself in thought, his voice deep and telling. Then, one of his wispy brows raise. “And what could I do to assist you further, hm?” His eyes flit to the holter monitor as he speaks. The way he looks at you, next, is suggestive, but it belies that you’re obviously not allowed to breach the unspoken rules of this game and beg him to fuck you.

Not yet, at least. There is time until the Atlantis has completed its’ infusion – the bag isn’t nearly empty. This doesn’t mean you can’t pathetically beg for other forms of contact, however.

So you puff a little and think really hard, and sustain your blush and roll your hips with the power of your powerlessness… “Please, I just… I just want you on me, just… touch me, p-please?” You look down, very ashamed at the way you sound and yet hopelessly turned on, and it makes Wesker’s eyes glint dangerously.

Your defenselessness is truly delicious. He really ought to keep you. He can imagine it, a fantasy he almost certainly cannot partake in: you in his lab, leashed and collared to his side, where he can take a break whenever he so feels the whim chase him to touch you. And you, whimpering and needy at every turn, always ready to give and give selfless stress relief like a good toy. So utterly human.

It should disgust him. Instead, your specific breed of naive humanity is like a fetish. You’re not bound to the ghost of a Doctrine, you’re not infected with any virus; your DNA is unblemished, untouched like a tap of pure, rippling potential. You’re so corruptible… and yet… and yet he cannot find it in himself to do that with any real, consequential permanence. God, he wonders if you’re compatible with… no, no, no.

Your moans would be a pleasant background chatter as he compares different strains under electron microscopes though, he thinks, instead of your mindful chattering. And you must see it in his eyes, the way they flare up as they gaze into your own with a deathly precision, because your spine feels a shiver climb up it and you let out a shaky whine.

You’re beginning to need him so badly that the emptiness in you aches.

“Keep talking,” he urges, one of his gloved hands shifting to slide over the fabric of the front of his pants, the other sliding over your body, seeming to really focus, with honed calculation, on the parts of you that draw the most sound from your throat.

You feel so lit alight with sensation this time that you writhe under him as his other hand draws, deliberately, over your sides – “Oh, g-god, why does it feel so- so-… hmmah,” – over each rib, across your hips and the outsides of your thighs, where he presses his digits inward teasingly as your core tightens – “F-f-fuck, Wesker, please, please,” – under your gown, which he bunches up and unbuttons to expose you to the air, making you whimper pathetically amidst the cacophony of your own groaning, his gloved fingers, two bare, pressing into your chest and your sternum and wrapping around your neck. You suddenly feel like you’re going to––

Wesker pauses. He’s leaning over you, gray coat draping across your legs, watching your face intently.

Like he’s looking at an anodized experiment encased in a tube. So clinical, cold, and utterly transfixed by the exponential disentanglement of your mind. Your psychology entrances him, laid bare and leaking.

Your eyebrows bunch up and a look of betrayal crosses you, and then you pout – embarrassment is far away in another land, you were so... “Don’t- don’t- why did you s-s-stop?”You almost feel like you’ll cry, bucking your hips incessantly into nothing, nothing at all. Since when had you been moving them? “Don’t stop, please, oh, please, p-please,” you prattle on, breathing shallowly. His grip increases a little and it falters.

“Why?” he asks, voice rough with need and accusatory, though he’s well aware of the answer – he just wants to force it out from you under the duress of all that dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine. Oh, yes, it’s long since leaked from one to another. But, fuck, you’re making him want to give in to his own basal urges and fuck you hard into the bed.

But he has more control than that. Plenty more restraint than you currently possess. It isn’t time yet – he knows what he’s doing. And when it is, he’s going to ruin you...

You actually sniffle. “I was so-- I was so c-c-close,” you manage to stutter out, your eyes seeking out his with a drugged desperation that makes his cock throb. “Is that so? … Really?” Wesker’s grip on your neck releases a little, and you lean your head and press the tiniest, defeated little kiss against the gray cuff of his labcoat in your addled confusion.

It releases completely and you swear he chuffs at you. “Well? Keep going, then.”

He slides his hands across your shoulders and dips them across your chest, digs them underneath your back and runs them along the sides of you. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” you babble breathlessly. You arch so beautifully, so wonderfully pathetic, and you sing and moan for him.

“So responsive,” he croons, “so powerless against me. Against the slightest little touch…” He demonstrates it by wrapping them across your stomach, pushing his hands deftly, each finger trailing themselves across each of your ribs in a dizzying pattern, each movement making you twitch and whine. So pitiable – such a far cry from your book smarts.

“Doesn’t this embarrass you?” But he knows it doesn’t – not now.

You can feel the lust in the coils of you tightening and pulsing with his touch like electric lightning. He dips one of his hands between your rolling hips – “Ohhhhh, yesssss,” – finally, middle finger running over you, and your labored breathing gives into rhythmic cries as you gush all over his hand, arching. “Wesker, oh, god, Wesker, oh, oh, fuck, f-f-fuuuuuuuckkkk, W-W-Wesk– Wesker… hhhhhah, ah, hhah, ah...”

He keeps it there, wriggles his digits about a little as you cry out so prettily for him. He keeps it until your gasping and moaning of his name (something he deigns for you to stop doing, such music to his ears) become the tortured rasps for him to stop. “Oh, GOD W-W-Wesk– Wesker it’s TOO much- T-TOO much,” you hiccup, legs pressing together, body writhing around even as he strokes you, sadism very clear in his catty, agitated gaze. “Please! Please, no m-m-more, no more, no more-more-more Wesker, W-Wesker, ple-e-eaaaase,” you beg through your teeth, free hand grasping at the other arm of the bed with a white knuckle grip.

Should he really give you mercy? You’d continue to say his name, a nice ring coming off your lips. “And here I thought you wanted me to touch you,” he muses, mock complaint going unheard to the higher regions of your mind. Your voice is as pretty begging to stop as it is to go… decisions, decisions… and he’s so indecisive, really, as you wriggle helplessly and squeak, dribbling even more on his fingers. It’s such sweet, embittered torture to your electrified nerves.

But then you start to cry, tears rolling down your cheeks as you plead and plead, and he ceases, stilling his hand but never pulling it away. “Fine.” It’s said sharp and final, but his expression is amused. The glove between your legs is covered in you – sticky strands that make the nitrile glisten wetly, truly a sight to behold.

His mouth is awfully dry. How lucky for you that you’ve got a bag of saline to keep you company. All he has is a heaping dose of your saliva.

You thank him breathlessly as you come down from your high, finding that it takes an abnormally long time. You’re so dizzy. Your body feels like it runs with pleasure in your aftershocks like an almost-painful livewire of lightness, your chest puffing so much and so quickly that the holter monitor – which has migrated to the side of the bed by now – beeps about your low oxygen saturation.

Wesker quirks a brow, his smugness wiped away at it and replaced with a little frown. He yanks his hand from you, which makes you stiffen before you relax, jelly-like, and he rips off his gloves, one of his hands finding your own to hold. “Easy, now,” he chides. But you want to yank your hand away – it’s so sensitive, and this is oddly intimate, so you twitch and whimper and...

The already-quirked brow climbs higher as his free hand pauses the TC Atlantis.

Wesker certainly thought that you had some kind of oddly strong reaction, but he hadn’t expected it to be to this degree or this fast – perhaps there were secrets to your mind he had yet to uncover about its’ inner workings? Things that your medical records simply didn’t divulge because nobody had ever looked. Intriguing. “Breathe with me, alright? In and out,” he splays your hand against his chest, underneath the fabric of his labcoat and over his turtleneck. Your hand slides a little, admiring even in your daze as you follow his command wordlessly, the holter monitor finally ceasing its’ siren.

“Good. Keep going, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he admits, humming a little from deep in his chest to occupy you away from his words save for the command inlaid. You continue, and eventually you find you’re no longer dizzy.

“So…” the virologist begins, his hands grasping your own to place it back on the bed, then darting away as if the potential connection scares him off – especially when your brain is lit alight with so much oxytocin. Your hand twitches after his, but then stills. This is Wesker, and this is a scene, not a normal man and a warm bed – but you still appreciate what you perceive as aftercare.

“How are you feeling now?” It comes out a little awkward, something that you’ve not quite heard from him in a long time, like he’s a little unsure of himself. You reckon he is, the way his eyes keep flitting to the monitor and then you, though when he notices your noticing he forces them to remain on you.

But he’s not terribly empathetic – he’s still roiling with arousal, evident in his own budding impatience.

“Better,” you nod, giving a weak smile as you shiver with a particularly strong aftershock.

He kicks off his boots very suddenly and climbs onto the bed with little grace, sitting on his knees and between your legs, once more regarding you. When you gasp, he gives a cocky, toothy grin, the predatory streak in them returning full force, no longer pressed down to comfort you. “What, did you think that was it? That I was going to make you cum without internal stimulation and let you free?” He giggles – and then it turns into a chuckle. The chuckle turns into a sadistic cackle of a laugh that shakes his shoulders.

“Oh, no, little bambi, you’re very far from home,” Wesker says, eyes narrowing with a mean look as he leans in to steal a little of the saline he’s been loyally feeding your vein. He grabs your jaw harshly and you squeak in delayed surprise as he pulls your chin forward and down, tongue relishing in the taste of you together as it tangles in your own dominantly, suckling and pulling sound from you as he lets his first clipped moan out.

You take the opportunity to swallow it and he forces your head back and against the bed for your attempt, lips so tightly packed against yours that you squirm under him.

He lets you up on his own time, pulling back as you cough and heave breaths in. Everything is so much right now that you already feel like he’s been touching you again, your hips twitching. It isn’t unnoticed, especially when your legs are flowing around his knees. “How convenient for me, you’re already ready again…”

“...but I suppose I’ll be a gentleman,” he croons, stroking his own ego as he pulls another pair of nitrile gloves on with a snap that makes you weak, tightening your knees around his waist as you hoist yourself a little in preparation. Just the feeling of shifting them makes you pant for a second – you’re fried.

“P-Please?” You shiver with anticipation and say the first thing that comes to your mind. You don’t know if you’re pleading for him to be easy on you or to prep you, honestly. You might be dripping wet, but you do need a little prepwork before he just s—

Wesker’s fingers are at your slit again before you can continue to dwell on it, his gaze tilting down and his brows furrowing in concentration as he experiments with your sensitivity, thumbing at your swollen clit a few times. You suck in a breath and your hips twitch – “A-ahhhh, god,”– and he parts his knees more to force them apart. That makes you full-body shudder, your hands grabbing at the cloth of his labcoat and squeezing it when he begins to move his thumb in a circular motion, other fingers sliding against your slit, one slicking itself up and driving into you.

You moan as he works it in and out of you in calculated strokes, eyes flitting from the holter monitor, your face, your glistening, fluttering hole. He grits his teeth and huffs, breath hot, face beginning to get flushed – something you realize even in your haze that you have never, ever seen before, the sight before you making your back arch and your fingers curl. He doesn’t quite realize that it’s his own appearance – debauched in his own way – that set you off, and he sets to hammering his finger in you with forceful insistence to make way for another digit.

You quiver and buck your hips disobediently, and you know you’re really in it now because he doesn’t even respond except to grunt, eyes narrowing as they land on you in meaningless warning before they refocus on your fluttering grip.

Fuck, you’ve got suction. He had expected Cellegelyn to loosen you up like a muscle relaxer, not leave you gripping his finger like you’re trying to milk it. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that? To debase you like this – to steal your intellect away and leave you the weak one writhing beneath him… it could become an addiction if he wasn’t careful.

Maybe all the little powerplays he’d pulled had been intentional to get to this very point. Had you ever considered that? Had you? “You have no idea what you’re entertaining, doll,” he growls.

The pet name, completely unexpected and new in the moment, makes you heave. Doll? “W-What?” you squeak, staving off the curdles of warmth that threaten to overwhelm you all for the sake of his own satisfaction and the potential at more of that. Oh, you’d be so good – you’d be the best doll, anything to keep this going. “F-Fuck, Wesker, feels so-- so good,” you mumble, barely coherent.

His nostrils flare at your damaged, telling cadence, and he slows his pace, which only makes you squirm a little more trying to force up some friction.

The squelching sound of your utter arousal is driving him mad. He needs to bury himself to the hilt in you sooner rather than later, lest he pop the button on his pants. The strain against them is starting to hurt, and the discomfort only serves to fuel him as he pushes a second finger in you, ceasing his thumbing so that you don’t overload before he’s got a chance to comfortably seat himself in your pink, blushing warmth.

You curse at the second insertion, but you stretch with beautiful ease. Your hands, though, are gripping his labcoat enough that it’s actually starting to pull him a little closer. You can smell him, and you can smell his cologne again, and the sensation of his fingers driving into you is making you whimper. Everything is crackling through your entire body and you want to curl up in a ball and hold onto the sensation for as long as you can. You sink your teeth into your lip to try and silence yourself even though it feels so good it’s almost burning with each deep stroke, and you bite yourself so hard you bleed.

You’ve released blood in the water.

The scent of copper tang makes him growl inhumanly, and his free hand doesn’t bother to disrobe of its’ filthy wet nitrile, wrapping around your back and pulling you forward with an unexpected strength as he continues to press into your walls with his other, tongue lapping along your lower lip and teeth lewdly. It makes you whine – it burns so good, and everything feels so good, and you white knuckle his labcoat as he lets go of you, shoving you back.

“Nghh, fuck, Wesker, I-I-I won’t––”

“No more fucking games,” he interrupts, shaking his head and puffing strands of hair out of his sightline. You nod, unable to answer him properly with your mouth. He’s beginning to lose his mask and his patience, and he fiddles with the button of his pants and pulls down the zipper, freeing himself.

You encourage him as he pulls his digits out, and you whine at the startling lack-of, greedy hole still clenching around the air. He wastes no time, smearing your natural lubricant over himself in pumps that make his mouth hang open enough for his elongated canines to be seen.

You let go of his labcoat and bring your hand to your mouth, biting your fingers to keep from babbling about how gorgeous he looks. But then you tear them away. It must be known, even at great personal cost, because how many people get to see him this way? Has anyone ever even told him? To bare another second in this world without him shouldering this knowledge will kill you, your addled mind is certain.

Or maybe it’s just the oxytocin surging through your veins and demanding you bridge minds. But you cannot deny yourself, consequences be damned.

“Y-You’re gorgeous,” you breathe, eyebrows raising in total earnest. You look so thoroughly smitten that he can’t help but lock eyes with you, and his very own fate in pretending this is merely a scene is ruined because his cock visibly throbs in his grip at your honesty.

He diverts his cat-like eyes, long lashes fluttering. Like this, he almost… almost looks bashful. Tendered. You nearly forget the situation before you feel his hot tip at your entrance and practically choke, so wet and bothered that it slides right in and he groans in turn.

“God, you’re still so tight,” he praises, ignoring whatever happened seconds ago, one hand gripping your hip, the other on the side of your thigh.

“You’re f-f-fucking… beautiful,” you say, eyes wide and blown out completely. Before you can continue your tirade to ruin his appearance of detachment, he punishes you by tightening his grip painfully, his cock driving into you to the hilt as you scream for a second. He curses alongside you, the noise surprising him, barking it out in equal at the way your walls quiver as they take him.

But he doesn’t tell you to stop…

It’d be more noticeable if you weren’t desperately trying not to cum, thoughts difficult for you to grasp and direct as your nails dig into his labcoat. Urge was easier, but you wouldn’t deny him this now; not after he’d treated you to such an experience prior.

He picks up on it by the way your walls move around him, incessant, and he growls low, long and deep as if to force your body to submit to his demand to hold off. “Not yet, I hav-haven’t… had my fun,” he commands, chest expanding with a labored breath.

He’s wide, and it makes it all so much worse – no, so much better. You ball your fists until crescents are digging into your hands as he pulls back and then rocks forward a few times, each one making you whimper at its’ peak, and your whimpers only serving to further ingratiate you to faster rocking.

Wesker’s grip on your hip tightens as he rolls in and out of you smoothly, wet slapping filling the air. Skin-on-skin. His gaze finally returns to you. “Know what? You’re the fucking pretty one, taking me so well, fuck, I want to… hhah, keep you like this,” he babbles, both his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks your taut body back and forth on his length with the ease that Progenitor bestows upon him.

What he gets in return – the prize of your reply – is your broken moan tearing through the air. You’re leaking out of yourself, hardly capable of remembering your own name, less and less of it all springing to you with each successive thrust.

To be privy to such power makes your core pulse.

You’re trying so hard for him, but you can’t help how your body grows impossibly tighter, beginning to lose your grip on thought as you mumble. Your vision crackles with the weight of his throbbing length pistoning into your soft, gracious heat.

“Mmmah’gnna, g’nnaahh-hhahh,” you slur, trying desperately to warn him, your hands patting and grasping at his sides to convey the spirit of your meaning.

He just keeps going, spilling noises that match your own incoherence against a wall of unintelligible complimentary ramblefucking you never could’ve expected from such a cold man. “Mmnhh, sofuckinggoodforme, you gonna be so– FUCK, fucking good for me, huh? Gonna k-keep you, hnnh, gonna fucking keep– keep you– make you m-m-mine, allmineallmineallmine…” His prosody blears around the edges and tightens when he drives into you, slurs when you milk him and leaks emotion around seams that can no longer bare to keep themselves together in lieu of his frantic fucking. Cellegelyn was the best fucking choice for this he ever could’ve chosen, and he’d do it ten times over to feel your heavenly grip crushing the day’s stressors away.

He’s a genius.

Hopefully you aren’t paying attention to what he’s actually saying enough to see the startling, alarming bright red – and if you are, which he severely doubts (and even he is having great struggle to pay any heed to your admittance that you were dangling on the edge) you’d discount it as lustful rambling.

But your head is lolling, tongue out and panting desperately as your orgasm crashes over you for the second time tonight. Your pulsing, dribbling, gasping warmth hugs his in a rhythmic pattern, head drawn back in a silent scream as one hand pulls at your own hair with the intensity that bombs your nervous system with each quick, deep, hard stroke he’s mindlessly, mechanically performing.

He leans forward, suddenly, breath a hot gasp, mouth hanging open as he seeks your neck.

Wesker diverts only enough to avoid incidentally murdering you, lax mouth – and each glittering, monstrously inhuman canine shaped by something truly ancient you couldn’t hope to understand on the level he did – sinking into the tender, sweet flesh of your shoulder like the strike of a viper.

You cry out and he groans into your shoulder as his hips finally give way to stuttering as they fuck too deep and too quickly into your overstimulated heat, and then he paints your insides, one arm seeking your side to death-grip as his other digs his nails, intentionally, into the flesh of your hip, drawing blood as his hips jerk and he bottoms out in you with each hot spurt.

You feel so good squishing and squeezing around him, you’re such a good hole.

You’re still twitching as he pulls out of you, releasing your shoulder from his mouth only after gnawing into it a little more – which makes you sob and sniffle and kick and moan, your body transforming the pain into otherworldly pleasure beyond your understanding.

“Nnnnh… ooohhhh, ohhh goddd,” you breathe, legs shaking as your abdomen leaks a heady mixture of the two of you.

So fucked out... what an adorable, pleasant look on you. Or is that the hormones talking? Wesker doesn't dedicate the time to dissecting it, he lets it wash over him in the way his face – and brows, more notably – take on a certain rare peacefulness, an expression they don't normally occupy.

You can do nothing but watch, no strength to intervene as Wesker’s tongue licks languidly at the wound he’s made, rolling over the beads of heme-rich blood that leak from you, teeth stained with your essence and breath tainted with the scent of iron. No drop of his mark is left to waste – it is almost ritualistic, though some small corner of your mind clinging to sanity whispers that this isn’t something he normally does.

It’s not quite cuddling – more like he’s trapping you against him, though he’s polite enough to prop himself to the side to avoid crushing you underneath him (that’d be rather unfortunate). This doesn’t mean he ceases his mindful lapping, continuing despite how you wriggle a little beneath him – if anything, he seems to find amusement in countering it.

He’s let go of your hips and lessened the grip on your side at some point, though you don’t quite register when.

It altogether reminds you of a big cat with a carcass, licking and gnawing idly to pass the time, more than it does the cuddling and afterglow you’d associate with what followed sex. But, strangely, you find that you… enjoy it. Not fucked out enough to attempt real affection, your hands come up to grip themselves in lieu of your desire to grab one of his. He seems to understand this, an unexpected and gentle hum that rises out of his throat, deep and low and claiming, his degloved hands – when did he take them off? – smoothing the gown you’d nearly discarded over you, shielding most of your naked body from the world around it, though not your shoulder.

He smells a little like you and you smell a little like him, a mix you find endearing – one you believe you may not soon forget, wonder in the back of your mind on the debate of whether or not he’ll commit this to his memory, too. Did he have a snapshot memory? His intellect would lead you to believe that he might.

The sensation of his slender tongue against the bite makes you struggle not to let any more sounds escape you, breathing elevating a little with each gentle lave – but you struggle, more truthfully, not to make a feeble attempt to shove him off of you; there’s absolutely no way you’re going to be able to cover the rich, deep bite unless you wear a scarf. And everyone… everyone will know who bit you with the shape it’s made.

Wesker knows that, too. He’s indulging in the thought of it, actually, knowing it will inflame – and maybe cleaning the blood from it with himself rather than the third party of an alcohol wipe is a little more alien than it is human, a hunger for heme that is satiated by your very own supply. Dangerous, though, because it’s not the first time he’s tasted it from another person – though it’d never been under this context, he supposes.

How all of this plays out for your future working with him – working under him, next to him, that is – he’s certain it’ll lend itself to his finer manipulations very well, in fact.

You wonder yourself, vaguely, more in concepts than words, how long he’s going to be cuddly before he resurfaces as the cold, emotionless figure he presents to the world and stalks off. You didn’t take him for the type to stick around, so to get anything at all after the conclusion shocks you in a pleasant – and perhaps a bit thoughtful with the weight of implication – way.

“H-hi,” you say, vocals shaking a little as you begin to come back down from it all. Wesker’s throat bobs, chest puffing with the edges of a laugh at your greeting, as if waking from a dream. Conjugation still threatened to escape you.

He stops cleaning you and lays his head in his hand, magnificently dulled gaze boring into your own. “Hello,” he replies, clearing his throat to shake it of the blood that clings, swallowing the last of it, tongue licking his lips in savor of you. The sight kicks up the dust of your blush again, having recently calmed.

When did he tuck himself away? He looks entirely clean – and you, on the other hand, are an absolute wreck.

“Enjoying yourself?” Wesker chuckles impolitely, brow cocking at your disheveled appearance and the catheter still wedged in your wrist.

Oh… that’d have to come out. You give a curt nod, sit up (with one hand as your guide, which still feels awfully sensitive) and look around you for something to stem the inevitable bleeding when you pull it out.

He tilts his head a little, watching you.

“Do you need something?” It’s both smug – as he is the only one who can provide it, really – and truthful, as he’s not quite sure your wits are totally about you to be pulling on anything. So, as your free hand moves to your wrist, he reaches out and grabs it.

“I’ll take care of it,” he swiftly decides, voice gold-lined with what little of the natural and yet uncharacteristic softness remained. After all, you seem amicable to it.

You blink as it washes over you. One event would unfold after another, and your brain would process them all individually. This painted an odd dichotomy you allowed yourself to steep in if only for the coddling it provided: you can think, but it’s hard to speak. The remnants of a dissociative? But you certainly remember the experience.

“O-oh, okay,” you softly say, reply delayed by your condition and the gears in your mind that cowed to his purposefully gentled tone.

Wesker gingerly turns your other arm over and retrieves a bandaid – though you feel more than too old for those, the situation demands it of you in your clumsiness. He runs his digits along the area and kneads a little at the thin tape holding the catheter down, then knits his brows as he pulls it out in one swift motion, replacing its’ presence with a bandaid that he holds down with frightening strength, quite a bit more than is necessary, perhaps because he must curtail the urge to lave at that, too.

You close your eyes tight and his brow quirks. “You’re still that sensitive?” Then, the virologist leans in a little, a conspiratorial hint in his tone. “Could you be… exaggerating?” But he leans back out with an edge of playfulness and ease, almost showy, rather than caution or anger.

“No,” you shake your head, opening them once it’s over. He hums thoughtfully.

The time has come for Wesker and you to depart, and he shuffles around with the meaning to stand before your hand sluggishly tugs at the cuff of his coat. He turns to face you, though you see that he creeps with a subtle impatience.

“Just wanted to say… t-thank you,” you cough out, pushing yourself into a sitting position and stretching your legs as you mean to stand.

Your belongings were bagged nearby in a themed tote. The man had truly thought of it all.

He considers something for a moment, seeking beyond your words, before he relaxes his shoulders and stands up, dusting himself off with the intention to stalk away.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chides, slit pupils glinting with something you cannot define that surpasses the weight of the red flags you’ve seen before as he turns away, perhaps intentionally, unclipping his shades from his breast pocket and pushing them up entirely.

Wesker begins to walk away. “Thank me when you understand the depth of my generosity…” - a line that you find climbs up your spine, but he adds one last bit as he rounds a corner, clack of his boots with his disappearance to clean up - “...or the consequences of it.”

(thanks for reading this massive 11k!! lil aftercare tune soup for your soul:)