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1-49 · 9 months ago

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송은석 : Tell the cameraman there’s no good side, they’re both attractive.

❝ your ace, your king, your double diamond. your jack of all trades, your 100 and one shades.

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: actor! song eunseok × actress f!reader.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: romance. on set / gambling undertones as far as the film storyline goes. w.c 5k

two actors fatally ‘meet’ at a ‘casino.’ with the narrative centering round the ‘value of the moment,’ as the story advances, the ‘love on set’ becomes more evident thru the cameras. as the director realizes this early on, all of his retakes serve as both the actors’ main obstacle and unifying force in achieving their individual & character’s goals.

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: slight mutual pinning (?) both are kinda confused; mixed signals, ofc flirting. makeout :) i had MMA Eunseok on mind while writing this... the gloves and all.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: why i feel like everyones on sum Eunseok current rn? as if we re collectively riding that wave? am i not right? am i not!? it’s like homeboy was only getting comfortable up until now. or elsee y are his contents as of lately sooo attacking? idk why, but i feel like this type of situation goes so well w him?

this goes back and forth between the film’s plot and the real* on set setting. hope it’s not confusing

It feels like you’re wearing your seductive velvet dress just to let him down one more time. The never-ending takes of filming this movie and wearing the same clothes don’t help Eunseok at all; in fact, your attire has made him even more confused and hell crazed.

Drama, slash thriller, slash…

“Romance is for the weak,”

reads one of the script’s lines. Of course, there is nothing romantic about the way he has to portray the charismatic rival who must rob the same kingpin as you. You both need to be like loaded guns to figure out who will outsmart who. Without a doubt, this isn’t a game for the weak of heart.

Side from the fact that long shoots and endless days blur together, his constant presence both on and off set also distorts your perception and wounds your judgment. Though you know for a fact that it’s a waste of your time to catch vibes.

As you’re getting started & Eunseok is an A-list hitter, it is also completely out of the question. Moreover, even now, you find it surprising how you were cast for this role, but that was exactly what spurred you on to continue & demonstrate your abilities.

Though the weeks of filming went smoothly, as you 2 approach ‘a’ scene, tension is mounting.

But, now that you’re here, you’re reshooting and pacing around the same set of scenes, over and over. There is a clear build-up in tension and skin ship as the film goes. The way his hands would sometimes tighten around your waist, it seems like an old game. Practically, it’s the same same daily.

It’s as if you have been thrown into a loop for a week. Monday through Saturday, which seems excessively intense because you have to look into his big eyes and act unaffected, just like your character. To pretend that you’re razor-sharp when you two touch and to act as though nothing is happening.

The latest take you took was three hours ago, before your lunch. Venue: the casino.

The casino set is unique in that it has distinct widths and depths, & it’s a character unto itself.

You’re shooting at a real place—a candid gambling place with walls painted in every hue imaginable, which is the main ‘bait’ factor. Nevertheless, the place’s real undercurrent is that it has the power to literally tear apart a person. Here, time and space are merely ideas, and much like love, everyone in the plot keeps playing in the hopes of hitting a jackpot.

On the periphery are the people who have come here to escape reality, vibrant lights, music, drinks, and all things magnetic.

However, the more people indulge in these casino games, the more they immerse themselves in sin. The games have a concentric hierarchy, and the degree of wickedness increases gradually until it reaches the heart of the casino, where the money is kept in bondage and bound with a bloody ribbon.

In essence, the characters you and Eunseok play dance and mingle in the depths of hell.

As you both keep colliding in the games you play, what begins as an individual hunt becomes more focused. It’s the way that your objective in this round is to win jointly by lying. Still, at some point in the round, Eunseok’s character betrays you, but that is currently irrelevant, as you’re currently sitting on his lap.

And doing so, you scan the players in front of you. There are eight of them in total, some of whom have girls sitting on their laps as well. Some kiss, some clink their glasses, and some flirt with the person across. A ton of chips, cards, and cash are spread out across the poker table.

Your character remains silent, just like Eunseok’s does. Distraction is something that neither of you wants. However, the fact that you’re sitting on his lap makes this already a deranged situation.

Players sling remarks about your character around the table in an attempt to break Eunseok’s character’s nerve.

“When will it be our turn to have our round with her, at last, exactly when?” Gesturing you both, one of the group members says, perched on the edge of the poker table. “Hm? We may need to take some action because you don’t really share your food here. We may need to bring bad luck to attract her.” The actor laughs narratively, but there is seriousness in the corners of his bright eyes that makes it seem like he is really after you, and there is nothing Eunseok can do about that. It is an amazing acting delivery from him.

And while his remarks are only meant to irritate Eunseok’s character, why does it feel like they also irritate the real Eunseok? Because his leg begins to twitch uncontrollably under you.

In order to stop letting his emotions show and to keep his mind to the job in hand, he needs to snap back into character quickly. He remains to cage you in a respectful manner, though, as his arms aren’t in contact with you because they’re both on the table.

So you have no choice but to put up with the sensation of his breath tickling the back of your neck, and the heat that seeps from his thighs and settles into you.

You feel imprisoned in his cage... On this set.

And, you start to appreciate the little things, like the thicker material covering your flesh, since it seems like your skin is getting uncomfortably slippery under your dress.

Your back is glued to his chest, and his calm demeanor calms you down from the words and deeds of everyone around you—including the real extras from the close-up tables that swarm the set, adding realism to the scene and heightening the atmosphere.

You feel him place his hand on your thigh, something he has never done in previous takes of the scene, but he immediately lifts it. And as he moves his hand, the smooth surface of your dress wrinkles at the drag, making your heart want to leap out of your rib cage.

You lean forward until your elbows rest on the table in an attempt to escape the heat transfer that is becoming too strong between your bodies. More than that, there seems to be an off-energy between you two today that you can’t quite put your finger on. In either case, you’re unable to escape as his hand wraps around your waist and draws you back toward him. Simultaneously, it feels like his cold breath is making love to your throat as it swoops around your neck.

And so, you stay like this… in his arm... until he decides it’s enough, but Eunseok isn’t one to give up easily, so things continue this way. You simply can’t protest because that would ruin the scene.

However, even after going over the same scene several times, it didn’t stick, so the director agreed to let you unwind for the next few hours so that you could focus on the following scene.

And as absurd as it sounds, you might need to expend all of your energy on the next scene. You’ve become tired not just from your long work hours and endlessly repeated dialog lines, but also from being in too much close contact with him. And not to mention that the scene that follows is—

A loud “Action!” comes from somewhere across the room, past the cameras. You’re even deprived of the opportunity to summon all your bravery and take a deep breath. There is nothing you can do about the scene that is already in motion except follow your sync with Eunseok wherever it leads.

This time, the location is a 2nd floor room inside the casino with a glassed view of the floor below where all the ‘magic’ happens. In technical terms, the space you’re in right now is referred to as a ‘control room.’

Control…..

With just the two yellow-toned lamps—one in the corner and one on the metal desk—the room is completely soundproof and somewhat dim. Additionally, the window glass also only sees out but not in, which promises that all intimacy will be trapped inside and not let out.

…. If only you were allowed the right amount of privacy,

but this is a film set, so naturally there are people inside who practically monitor every move you and Eunseok make in great detail.

They… Control…..

His suit jacket, which he had on earlier in the casino, is now draped across the brown leather couch, giving you more intimate time together and expanding his range of motion. And it’s all done purposefully. Everything is a part of the plan, as he’s deliciously in tune with your dress, too.

His glistening velvet suit with diamond motifs fits the ‘rival notion,’ making him an ideal opponent—a fierce equal match for you. This is also reflected in the movie’s concept, which is to give the impression that this is a ‘pair game’ in which both of you are lying in order to get to the big ‘price.’

And all it takes to get there is for you to hurt each other in the process. There are jokes exchanged, teasing remarks, some lighter, some harsher, some even more vulgar, and swear words are thrown around, but neither of your characters ever lets up their confident façade. For they would be falling behind and losing the game if that were to occur.

As you gaze out the window, Eunseok is leisurely leaning against the desk, moving a silver-foil Ace of Hearts card between his black leather-gloved fingers and watching you.

The games themselves give an adrenaline rush, and the lavish, spacious hall downstairs draws in gamblers, but the whole point of the script for him is that you’re a thrill sight and his object of desire. For someone made of steel, your whole sense of appeal lies in the fact that you steal his breath.

The sleek black strapless velvet dress you’re wearing seems to be romanticized by the fake diamonds around the base of your neck. Your smoked eyes and glossed lips are your core points. You don’t long to impress. Your power lies in your strength and independence, but it’s also in elegance, solace, and trance. Another line says, ‘Simplicity is a killer,’ and you certainly are.

However, beneath it all, only you’re aware of how much of a mess you are because he is currently examining you.

... Still, it’s only acting. Eunseok is merely performing in his role as an actor. And, when acting, one can’t really let one’s true self show. As a result, cameras won’t be able to capture how hot you really feel inside or how confused; all you can hope for is that you don’t mess up your next set of lines.

And it’s that scene in the script where everything has built to a climax, and nothing is held back!

When neither of you can decide what brought you together—your shared dislike or your shared goal—and neither of you can explain the bad cues and inexplicable tension.

Where your personal schemes about who will get the ‘shiny stones’ first are screwed by your shared greed and cynicism.

When you two almost simultaneously blow up each other’s plans.

And wherein, in order to make this work for at least one of you, you have selected a room to talk about the remaining options. In this case, the smarter one will really only be the meaner one.

This finally concludes the exchange of hurtful comments; there will be no more!

The door is the most attractive option, and the room is perfectly silent. However, it simply indicates that the first person out has raised the white flag and signed their lost. It’s impossible for either of you to succumb so easily.

Simultaneously, your character is the first to break the dense silence.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

With a rephrased and pointed question, “Where are you going with this?,” you look up at him then, looking a little disappointed and angry at the same time.

Coolly, Eunseok teases, “I’m trying to figure out if I should call it quits.”

As an actor would, his hair is styled to perfection, and the two hair strands that fall into his eyes and give him a luscious appearance are actually just the result of the tireless efforts of the hair and makeup artists who never stop running after him.

You find yourself ‘out of set’ for a split second, wondering what he’s like by himself. How he appears when he wakes up in the morning, how his hair looks after taking a shower, and how his body is dressed in a baggy, worn-out shirt rather than rich pajamas. However, that’s rather a ‘faraway’ Eunseok.

But the present, Eunseok, does he read you?

“You’re only saying that. But I won’t take the bait from you.” Your character is merely attempting to remind his of how he deceived you during the previous poker round. “In fact, I wish you saw you from my view. You ain’t all that, you know?”

Eunseok’s cool and calm demeanor remains unshaken. In fact, he just keeps on getting cocky. Given that you’re affecting him in ways he doesn’t understand, it’s in his character's self-defense mechanism as a means of continuing to taunt your character.

“Really,” he responds, crossing his gloved hands. His vest lifts at his tiny waist, and he tilts his head to one side in a seductive manner. The tone of his voice has been pre-calculated; every syllable has been worked on in detail. His precision in looking at you, moving, and facial expressions is unparalleled.

“See, I’m good for the ego,” his words come across as too sultry, even though he’s the most soft-spoken he has ever been, “but I’m bad for the soul.”

If you two weren’t in front of the cameras, you’d have closed your eyes and allowed his words to give you goosebumps all over your body, but now isn’t the time to do that.

Not that they aren’t doing it already, either...

They’re actually doing that in real time. His voice, his eyes, and his tongue that digs and crawls at the inside of his cheek.

Just a cold-blooded actor. With every take, this terrifyingly skilled individual sends chills down your spine. You almost get the impression that he’s seriously flirting with you because of how excellently he is delivering his role. Nevertheless, the line is exceedingly thin, and the narrative is already in the script. Is it not?

You protest, looking frustrated, saying, “Your games are endless,” yet still simultaneously approaching him more closely to show that you aren’t afraid of him.

Actually, you and him are on the same level. And to add spice to the situation, you say, “However, this time, we both know that you’re going to lose.”

Waving the metallic Ace of Hearts card in your face, his quick silver tongue catches your attention as it runs along his lips. In an attempt to look impressive and put an end to the questions, Eunseok nonchalantly admits, “I like the games I play.”

Although you must maintain your image and stay in character, all you really want is for all of this to end. You can’t take this and him anymore, like the weeks of filming together have reached a breaking point. You want to scream, ‘Cut!’ to put an end to this suffering, but you can’t fail your dream or let your character down either.

It’s as though you’re developing feelings for someone who isn’t even real. As though you are losing all feeling of reality as you observe him from up close. And because you know what is coming up next, you’re damn sure that Eunseok will take a piece of you with him when the lights go out and the cameras stop rolling, and everything is said and done.

Trouble…

It’s in his perfectly lethal-hued dark eyes. In the way the lamp light hits his eyes that makes him look so enticing, like a glass of whiskey on a thirsty day of never being enough. Intoxicating. Mysterious. Dangerous. A glass of trouble, really, and you’re fastly becoming a growing alcoholic.

The narrative he tells you hurts as his words continuously fall from his gorgeous lips and seep into your thoughts and emotions like melted wax.

“The truth is, you can’t get enough of me.” Eunseok’s same eye-level with you decreases as he straightens up from the desk and now gazes a little down at you, imposing a slight dominance. He lifts his gloves, causing some veins in his arms to bulge between where the gloves end and his white rolled dress shirt begins.

Without consent, his gloved fingers begin to crawl upward the inside part of your naked arm, waking goosebumps on their way. The trace is slow and faint, but that is exactly what he wants—for you to disintegrate bit by bit.

“Admit it,” he prompts.

He’s being pretty sadistic and adamant by insisting that you know that he knows how you feel about him; which is precisely the situation, and it leaves you feeling so exposed.

And it’s as if his proximity, presence, and dominance have completely eroded you, your character ‘breaks character’ as it succumbs to his dark charms.

You two are so close that you can understand each other perfectly, even in whispers right now. So you fire back in a private voice, “If I cared more about the truth,” miserable and defeated, “I’d be too aware of who was using who.”

In response, all he does is smirk,

and after making his way to your shoulders, he subtly brushes his thumb along your collarbone. Heat is generated by the tiny friction, and much like a fire match is struck, it ignites sparks in the air.

His hand then moves to brush some hairs away from your face and tuck them behind your ear. The black leather of his glove begins to skim first, then caress your delicate skin and the left side of your face.

His eyes pierce your soul like a knife, so you look from them to his lips, breaking eye-contact. They lust for touch and have a unique, attractive shape.

“Stop!” You voice out in shock at what he’s doing, but do nothing. His gloved fingertips continue to graze your face.

“Wonderfull,” he comments silently.

Your brain is fried...

And while in a daze, you notice that his tie is a little loose around his collar.

For some reason, this makes you feel compelled to tighten it, sealing the last bit of separation between the two of you. Eunseok’s brows furrow in concern as he realizes that this isn’t at all included in the script. Although this is blatant improvisation, the performance must continue as long as the director doesn’t yell cut.

You can understand why his free hand, which lends on your waist, is gripping you so tightly and nervously. He kind of breaks his neck shyly smiling away from you before turning back to face you...

Again, something the scene steps don’t cover.

“It was out of pl—”

‘ace,’ it’s what you attempt to offer as an explanation while the camera is rolling, but you don’t finish saying it... Your mouth stays agape in contrast.

You opened it with an intention, got distracted, and now you hold it open with a fresh thought.

...Him.

Your lip gloss is a mirror of his tiny diamond-studded vest’s sparkle, as are his eyes, which reflect your phoney diamond necklace.

‘How’d you get so pretty?’ Your mind stutters and your body shudders, yet the line is plain to see as it’s painted on your lips—ready to perform, ready to be spoken. How do you allow yourself to say it, though?

But for real, when did his lips become this pretty?

It’s challenging to discern which aspect of yourself feels and which acts. There is a messed-up intersection where your character throbs with the need to kiss his character, and you throb with the need to kiss him.

Can he feel it? Are you obvious? Does anyone in the room have the ability to see right through you, as though you’re a transparent bottle filled with all these bottled wicked wants and needs?

Under the necklace, the skin on your neck contracts, relaxes, and contracts once more.

Your lips begin to quiver as the cold leather finally slides beneath your chin. Lifting it, your eyes are drawn back to meet his. You’re painfully aware that it’ll only take a single kiss to weaken a million truths.

“Fuck,” he utters as he begins to brush your lips, causing the leather to become sticky from the shiny gloss.

Taking back his hand, he starts to rub and then separate his thumb and index finger, examining the degree of stickiness between them. He sighs, “You’re making me want to suggest that we steal those stones together.”

“I’m not stealing any stones with y—”

“I know, I know,” he says, interrupting. “But almost…”

Eunseok looks directly at you and presses his tacky gloved thumb to his lips.....

The flawless pair of strands that get in the way of his eyes symbolize his seriousness while his tongue begins to pick up and taste any bits of whatever is still on his lips…

The intimacy is revolting, but you aren’t even given a chance to die from all the obscenities he’s doing as he continues.

“You are,” his voice becomes quieter as he speaks, “almost making me want to do it.”

His lips draw nearer. His breath is what you inhale.

“Almo—”

As soon as his lips touch yours, the rest of the sentence disappears. Just as your glittery, dark eyeshadow is captured in perfect detail on camera, his splattered letters perfectly entangle in your mouth.

Unsurprisingly, he gives you a desperate kiss with hands that dig into your waist.

The greatest corruption imaginable is a kiss that says, “If you aren’t mine, then I’m making you mine!” A kiss that puts your life and breath in danger. A kiss that tears through the façade and the acting mask, growing ever more dangerously real.

What’s worse is that having spent so much time with him, it’s so evident when he’s unable to pretend. And currently, he surely cannot!

He cannot act as though his lips aren’t needy or that his skin isn’t becoming hotter. Or that when he pulls your body more into his and presses his tongue deeper inside your mouth, his body isn’t trembling just a little bit.

Your hands slip off his shoulders and latch onto this vest, tugging on it just a little bit, even hanging on to it desperately for the life he’s stealing from you.

His heart is pounding beneath your hand, which is hard to comprehend considering that an actor with his level of training shouldn’t even flinch when filming a kissing scene. More so than anyone else, Eunseok exudes an air of magnetism despite being largely composed of steel. The fact that you’re seeing him partially fall apart for the first time is mind-boggling.

It’s truly insane what only a kiss can reveal. And of anything, it isn’t fast. For this is something that you should feel, just as the audience should when it’s their turn.

You whine his character’s name in between kisses, only slightly conscious that you’re still in the heat of filming this scene. However, he just hushes you, nuzzles your nose gently against his, and continues. His low, pretty pants and foul moans layer at your throat, just as yours in his.

Given how far out of script you two are at this point, you’re certain the director has had enough by now and will call it quits at any moment, but that never happens.

It’s gross how much of Eunseok’s tongue encircles yours while his cute nose wrinkles and brushes against yours. It all makes you want him even more. For the worst part, he smiles through it. It’s quite vile since he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You can feel his lips burn from the constant, wild collisions. And his scent seeps into your nostrils. That much is certain: it’ll be difficult to forget this—to forget him.

“Do you—Do you?” he stammers, pressing his lips to yours as he breathes heavily and squeezes your waist so forcefully that you fear his hands will split you in two.

Since it’s an entirely improvised line, he eventually comes up with the right combination of words. “Have you indulged in this fantasy before? Have you—Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

Even though Eunseok’s words are already weighing heavily on your heart and lips, he adds even more bitterness by saying, “You definitely have.” He answers his own question by not even giving you an opportunity to respond.

But then, is it untrue?

Of course not, as you feel the weakness in your knees. You find it somewhat unfair that he has granted himself a space where he’s fusing reality and fiction.

You fight, “It’s—” while making an effort to escape and resist his lips, “It’s just this time,” but it’s mediocre at best.

As you step back away from him, his hands hopelessly slip off your waist and slide back to his side. They appear empty-looking, as though they don’t own anything of value, like something was snatched from their possession.

Now, empty handed, Eunseok is back gripping the metal of the desk. It isn’t like it’s just you who is feeling the effects of those frenzied kisses; he has definitely lost his breath too. His lips are pretty roused and ‘used-looking’, much like after an intense makeout, while the tips of his ears throb as they peek out from under his dark hair.

He somewhat manages to come up with another line even though his fairly strong defensive system is down.

“Then perhaps it’s just been my imagination all those times I thought I felt you thinking about me.”

Your mouth drops open at the same time as the director cries out,

“CUT! Beautiful! Beautiful!” He waves his hands in all directions proudly. “That take was spot-on perfect; we’re done here. I got everything I want here”, he says, tapping the big camera that some other guy is holding, and also exclaiming, “One take. It only took one take!” with excitement. “Excellent improvisation! Reshooting would only sour the spark.” He then successfully clasps his hands and says, “That’s a wrap, everyone!”

You’re left standing in front of Eunseok, glassy-eyed, quite sensitive, and shocked, but optimistic that what the two of you just did is still partially justified by your acting profession.

It looks like he’s blinking more than normal; and blinking is undoubtedly one of the patterns Eunseok exhibits when he’s nervous, which you’ve noticed throughout the months that you’ve been working with him. He also seems to be in denial, with confused lines painted on his temple.

Both him and you stay motionless while looking at each other as the director talks about the scene with a different staff member, his voice only sounding faint and far away in your ear.

“I like a good chase in a scene. To me, that’s everything. The actors must have a compelling chemistry and be aware of their roles. They must have trust in each other and their actions, because making a film is similar to a construction site, it must be built. It’s more than a camera, lights, and action.” Taking off his baseball cap, he gives himself a head stretch. “Trust me… what these two have is lethal.”

The longer the director keeps making observations, the more of the ‘real’ Eunseok is in your presence. Adorable, nervous smiles, head turns, and motions; knitted brows that enlarge his eyes even more. It’s as if he has softened his human side, opened his heart, and ‘thrown his metallic armour away.’

Finally, after hearing the comments, he sort of hisses with a ‘Really?’ while tilting his head to the side and putting on a cute, sarcastic look of suspicion.

“Are you okay?” You ask him in a gentle tone, concerned because it appears he’s thinking through and repeating every step of the scene.

He nods, but his face still wears that expression of shock mixed with denial, and a slight, but still noticeable, shy spark in the far back of his ever so silver persona. It seems like he’s coming to terms with everything that just happened, and he’s still quite riding out the wave.

Now that he has had a taste of how you kiss, it’s quite impeccable how you can bite down like an enemy and later be tender to all of those marks like a friend.

You’re high-key giving him so much more to think about—so many more thoughts to deal with than what the sight of you in your dress had already done for him up to this point.

‘Romance’ slash ‘No Control’ slash ‘Trouble!’

So many twists and turns until the conclusion, but the scene is now over.

The drama is done. The ‘acting’?

Done!

You’ll be taking off your makeup and dressing down, but the characters you just played will still exist within the both of you. That despite the fact that it seems like you two will be avoiding dealing with this for the time being, you’re both actors, and currently, the cost of your acting is your sanity.

Starting today, heartthrob actor Eunseok won’t only continue to cause headaches to the millions of girlies who have his posters hung above their beds, but to you as well.

‘.....Nice.’

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violetpixiedust · 11 months ago

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part 2 to this drabble, can also be read as a stand-alone. billy the kid x innocent! burlesque! reader. smut. (18+) ౨ৎ

warm candlelight bathes your small boarding room in a honey amber shade, emitting molten sunlight. billy’s glossy eyes hold the spring skies as he gazes up at you, entranced as your now loose locks tumble down your shoulders, free of any accessories. your stage makeup has since been wiped down to a less intense look, only accentuating your favourite features.

billy still reckons you look like an angel.

he’s sat at the edge of your double bed, dipping into the tough mattress. his denim clad legs are spread shoulder width apart, boots unlaced- hat, suspenders and gun holster strewn to the side table. a tense breath leaves him as your near bare figure straddles his hips, serene silhouette decorated with lacy lingerie. your manicured hand slips between the open lapels of his half unbuttoned shirt, palm laying flat against his heart, feeling the steady thump, thump, thump, quicken with every moment that passes. butterfly wings tickle your ribs causing you to shiver lightly, billy’s calloused fingertips dancing up the outsides of your spine as your sides meld within the curve of his thumbs.

you gently lead him to lie down, releasing an airy soprano sigh when you feel the brunette man harden against the lace of your panties, arching your back. billy unconsciously bucks his hips up, desperately torn between wanting to take his time with you- as difficult as it may be for a man like him, and wanting to ruin you. one of his sun-kissed hands brush up the length of your arm, a whisper of a smile ghosting his chapped lips as he cups your petal soft face within his rough palm. you follow him down, a joint moan intertwining within the approaching autumn air as your lips finally connect. you taste of sweet liqueur, something floral and bubbly, while the sharp taste of billy’s cheap whisky cuts through your kiss, prompting your nimble fingers to begin unbuttoning the rest of the man’s indigo shirt.

“wearing too many clothes, cowboy.” a teasing giggle leaves your stained lips, causing billy to smirk in amusement before he helps you remove his top, quickly discarding it to the hardwood floor. you can’t help but bite along the plush skin of your bottom lip when your warm gaze meets the sight of his toned, tanned muscle. from his shoulders, to his biceps, his torso.. billy tilts his forehead down to touch yours, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“not gettin’ shy on me now, are ya, doll?” you try shaking your head, but the steady weight of billy’s large hand against the back of your neck stops you from doing so. he stares at you intensely, and you realize he’s waiting for a verbal confirmation.

“no.” it’s meek, unbelievable. you try again, straightening your posture as best you can in his hold as you tremble within yourself, anticipation crackling between the two of you like a bonfire. “no, billy.”

he kisses you again, devouring you this time, seeming pleased by your answer. you can’t help but moan softly against his lips, twisting your fingers within his greasy locks as his tongue brushes into your open mouth. billy swears he’s never been in the presence of a woman as angelic as you, convinced he’s dreaming as you melodically moan his name like a prayer.

it isn’t until he’s stripped down to his drawers, kissing down the column of your daisy scented throat- simultaneously leaving a path of stubble burn in his wake, that your small hand brushes past his abdomen. you feel his strong thighs jerk below you at the feeling of your gentle fingertips along his privates, whisky breath hot against your jugular as he groans deep within his throat. “don’ have to do that, angel- i-“ you’re already sliding down to your knees, sure to get splinters from the old hardwood below you, but it’s worth it to see billy’s eyes roll back into his skull at the sight of you. praying at his alter. he wants to tell you that you shouldn’t have to do this. that sweet girls like you deserve to be treated with respect and pampered endlessly, taken care of just like his paw taught him- but billy’s not a strong man, not when it comes to restraining himself from getting what he desires. he’s never been able to.

your heart is beating in your ears as you carefully peel back the final layer, doe eyes fluttering when you finally meet the sight of it. it’s the prettiest one you’ve ever seen by far, out of the two previous. rosy at the tip, a bit paler compared to the rest of billy’s complexion, dark curls smattering the base, a touch wild. long. a pearly bead of ivory dribbles down his mushroom tip, and you can’t help but catch it with the tip of your soft tongue before it’s wasted, shivering at the salty taste. a startled moan escapes the man above you, thighs jerking as a shuttered breath rattles through him. “oh fuck, honey. d-do that again-“

the crotch of your panties become slick at the whining melody of billy pleading for your touch, your mind slowly fading away as you fleetingly attempt to remember what your burlesque sisters had taught you. no teeth, hollow cheeks, wet lips, and don’t forget, relax your throat- you lick a stripe up the base of the man in front of you, eager to please. billy can’t help but white knuckle the sheets below him, expression twisting as he restrains himself from thrusting up into the haven of your warm, wet mouth. you feel like heaven. languid, attentive-

it isn’t until he’s halfway between your lips that you suck, and he’s instantly scrambling.

“shit, shit, shit- h- honey- get off.” billy manages to groan out, pulling your tight little mouth off of him before he accidentally blows his load. a growl barely hides itself in the back of his throat when he hears you whine at the loss of him, unable to stop himself from manhandling you back onto the bed as you squeak. “need these off, doll. please.”

it’s quiet for a moment- besides the rustling of the earth past the smudged window, a few drunken howls from down below disappearing into the inky sky. you cup billy’s face despite his large hand encasing your wrist, watching as his pleading expression fades into delight when you nod giddily. his fingers toy with the satin closure of your bra, searching your hazy gaze for any hesitance before pulling, undoing the flimsy garment. billy has half the foresight to haphazardly toss the lacy piece of clothing away, narrowly missing the flame of a candlestick as his cobalt eyes shamelessly rake over your frame. he can’t help but run his calloused hands over the smooth mounds of your chest, tentatively squeezing, before his thumbs flick your nipples experimentally. the outlaw’s lips part in awe as your back arches perfectly in response, hungrily kissing up your sternum with soft breaths in between, toned arms curling behind your back to keep up his loving assault. “christ, angel. you’re perfect-“ he mumbles against your chest, eyes falling closed as you rake your nails over his shoulders, travelling up his neck, before finally scratching his scalp in a way that has his pelvis thrusting into the empty comfort of your cotton sheets, hissing. “need to taste you.”

a trembling moan escapes your swollen lips at billy’s raspy declaration. you had only heard stories from your burlesque sisters about men who put their mouths on women there. it was foreign to you. a feeling you couldn’t possibly imagine until billy hooks his fingers beneath your lacy panties, gently kissing down your tummy as if you were made of glass, till he was able to pull the skimpy fabric down at eye level. you hear him swear, quickly pushing yourself up onto your elbows before he meets your eyes, sky blue now steel grey with desire. wordlessly, he licks a stripe between your folds.

you’re hooked. caught within billy’s trap when his tongue swirls around the pearl of your clit with precision, alighting your being with shameless desire for the man below you. your soprano moans fill the night air as your thighs shamelessly lock around billy’s ears, his strong arms anchoring around the muscles to keep you in place. “fuck. y’taste like peaches.” billy mumbles blissfully against your pussy, devouring you like a man starved. you can’t help the ringing in your ears, the blood pumping to your core as your hips helplessly arch into the outlaw’s face, his large nose brushing just where you need him the most, sending you over the edge.

billy groans at the sweetness that emits from your core, lapping it up as best he could without completely losing his rapidly withering restraint. “need you inside of me, billy.” the outlaw’s neck nearly cracks with how quickly he looks up at you. you’re ethereal. a light glow of mist dusting your complexion, illuminated by the ever dying candlelight. he watches as your lashes flutter gradually, practically fanning through sticky molasses. billy nods, placing a final few kisses up the inside of your thighs- barely hiding his smirk when you twitch with sensitivity- your torso, till he reaches your lips, whispering as gently as his baritone voice would allow him to.

“lay back.”

you want to be consumed by billy forever, you think, fleetingly.

you just don’t know that the outlaw is already doing everything in his power to make it so.

#we are so back #i started and couldn’t stop #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x fem!reader #billy the kid x black!reader #billy the kid x poc!reader #billy the kid x reader smut #billy the kid x you #billy the kid smut #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid blurb #billy the kid fanfic #william h bonney #billy antrim #tom blyth #pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚

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chic-a-gigot · 2 months ago

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The Delineator, no. 4, Vol. XLVIII. Autumn Number. October 1896. Published by the Butterick Publishing Co. London & New York. Colored Plate 18. Figures D39 and D40. Promenade Toilettes. Internet Archive, uploaded by Albert R. Mann Library

Figure D 39. — LADIES’ STREET TOILETTE.

Figure D 39. — This consists of a Ladies’ jacket or blazer, a vest and skirt. The jacket pattern, which is No. 8669 and costs 1s. 3d. or 30 cents, is in thirteen sizes for ladies from twenty-eight to forty-six inches, bust measure, and may be seen again on page 437 of this publication. The vest pattern, which is No. 6398 and costs 1Od. or 20 cents, is in thirteen sizes for ladies from twenty-eight to forty-six inches, bust measure, and is shown again on its accompanying label. The skirt pattern, which is No. 8643 and costs 1s. 3d. or 30 cents, is in nine sizes for ladies from twenty to thirty-six inches, waist measure, and may be seen again on page 445 of this number of The Delineator.

Fawn faced cloth is here pictured in the jacket and cream-white cloth in the vest, both garments being finished with machine-stitching. The skirt is made of wine-colored zibeline. The jacket or blazer is here worn open and made with rounding lower front corners, but it may be closed at the bust and have square lower front corners, if preferred. Side-back and under-arm gores and a curving center seam render the jacket close-fitting at the sides and back and extra widths underfolded in box-plaits below the waist produce the popular outstanding ripples. A broad sailor collar that is curved to form three points at the back extends below the bust and shapes a point on the front of each sleeve. The newest effect is seen in the one-seam leg-o’mutton sleeves, which flare in puff style at the top and fit closely below. Pocket-laps having rounding lower front corners give a natty finish to the loose fronts; they are completed with machine-stitching to accord with the edges of the jacket and collar.

The low-cut vest is close fitting and is fastened at the center with buttons and button-holes; with it is worn a striped percale chemisette having a white linen Piccadilly collar and a black satin band-bow.

The six-piece skirt is made with a straight back-breadth and has straight edges that meet bias edges in the seams; it falls in flute folds at the sides and back and flares stylishly at the front.

Pleasing effects may be attained in the toilette by the association of harmonious colors and materials. The most successful jackets, in point of fit and style, are made up in this manner of broadcloth in either light biscuit shades or in the deep, rich Autumn tints of dahlia, green, mulberry, chestnut and wood-brown and various shades of blue and gray. Machine-stitching is the usual finish, although the trim self-strappings are not at all in disfavor, being, in fact, preferred by many fashionables. An inlay of black silk was added to the collar of a jacket made from green mixed cheviot to accompany a black vest and a green canvas skirt. For the skirt, the new camel’s-hair, serge, heather mixtures with their artistic commingling of subdued colors and broadcloth are suggested.

The brown felt hat is stylishly trimmed with ribbon, lace, feathers and flowers.

Figure D 40.— LADIES’ COSTUME.

Figure D 40. — This illustrates a Ladies’ costume. The pattern, which is No. 8658 and costs 1s. 8d. or 40 cents, is in thirteen sizes for ladies from twenty-eight to forty-six inches, bust measure, and may be seen in four views on page 414 of this number of The Delineator.

Canvas wool suiting and velvet are associated in the costume in this instance, and a ribbon stock and pipings of silk and small buttons add refined and elegant decorative touches. The basque, which is closely fitted by double bust darts and the usual seams, is in rounding outline in front, where it terminates at the waist, while at the back and sides it extends in a short skirt that is shaped to stand out in stylish, rippling folds. Gracefully tapering revers extend down the front at each side of the closing and impart a dressy effect to the waist, being slashed to form two tabs over each sleeve ; the tabs are trimmed with small buttons and the revers are prettily piped with silk. The one-seam sleeves flare in leg-o’mutton puffs at the top and fit the arm closely below; they are completed with pointed, flaring cuffs that are piped with silk. A ribbon stock covers the standing collar and is stylishly bowed at the back.

The seven-gored skirt is gathered at the back and possesses the grace and elegance characteristic of the newest styles. At the sides and back it ripples fashionably and at the front it flares broadly.

The new rough-surfaced goods—canvas wools or boucles—will make up stylishly in this manner, and the novel zibeline wools belonging to the camel’s-hair family are also commended, as well as faced cloth, with velvet for the small accessories and pipings of silk and small buttons for decoration. A ribbon stock is quite essential to a dressy effect and there are so many methods of arranging and trimming this fashionable bit of lingerie that no suggestion of sameness is ever given by its use.

The hat is trimmed with bright rose ribbon having a velvet edge, and a fancy buckle in front is chic and pretty.

#Delineator #19th century #1890s #1896 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #internet archive #Albert R. Mann Library #dress #gigot #october color plates #one color plates #devant et dos

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hockpock · 1 year ago

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Glasses Review - Firmoo

Hello vision impaired friends, I bring you the gospel of Ordering Your Damn Glasses Online

I have previously ordered from EyeBuyDirect (luxotica/lenscrafters'/America's Best in disguise, sorry.) and Zenni Optical ( most well known online provider, A+ would recommend) and have seen lots of ads for free pairs from a competitor, Firmoo. I have too much prescription for the free pair offers to ever work out from ANY provider, but their fun designs put them on my list.

When my current glasses broke, I was dinking around and saw their current promotion is Buy One Get One Free PLUS 20% off lenses and as lenses are the real $$$ I jumped on that like tigger on crack. I am VERY nearsighted with astigmatism and the average pair of glasses from lenscrafters used to cost me $300 minimum.

After much deliberation with a million tabs open and a poll I ignored the results of for Reasons, I ordered a pair of clear frames and a pair of purple steampunk-y wireframes . Two pairs of HIGH PRESCRIPTION glasses for $87 shipped. I could cry, y'all.

Note: I have an up to date prescription and a nifty app that measures Pupillary Distance or 'PD'. you will need both these things accurate to have the best experience buying your glasses online.

I ordered them 9/22, they shipped 9/25, I received them 9/29 with regular shipping. They came well packed - each pair was in a bag made of cleaning cloth material inside a sturdy plastic case and they come in a foil bubble mailer.

Both pairs feel well made, with lots of attention to detail-

however I did not pay attention to detail or pay extra money for the Re-he-heaaallly thin lenses. So the clear ones are slightly too big and I hate the way the nose pieces sit, while the purple ones are a wee bit small across the temple and heavy to boot. I haven't had dents in my nose like this since I was 12.

the website lists their exchange policy as 30 days, the pamphlet that came with the glasses says 60. Either way it was pretty painless to go into my order history and select "exchange". The form I filled out with my reasons for dissatisfaction promised me I would be contacted within 24 hours.

My 'personal Firmoo consultant', 'Karen', emailed me with a code for the full price before discount of both pairs + standard shipping, as well as the usual customer service canned answers about checking the sizing information and did I know I could upgrade the lenses?

Also I could keep the failed pairs 'FOR NOW', here are some places that accept glasses as donations. (mixed messages, Karen, but sweet!)

New friends are April006, round anodized wireframes with a cute dingly gem thing, and Sandy020 , literal tortoiseshell cat eye frames.

This time I used the site's search terms to cut the temple width and earpiece length options down and double checked the weight of the base frames. (14g vs 24g for the round wireframes before my coke-bottle lenses. RIP my nose. )

New order was placed 10/5 and they arrived 10/17 . (last time I checked the tracking estimated arrival had creeped from the 19th up to the 23rd so grain of salt. This may be a tactic to make the order feel like it got here faster or legit delays. In my case there was a federal holiday involved.)

Complete disclosure I'm gonna grab a pair of pliers and take the little dangly off the wireframes. It makes a noise when I move my head and if I don't fold the frames in the right order when I take them off it'll scratch up the lenses. I ain't gonna remember to avoid that, so off it goes.

The Good:

Large selection, Good Quality, Good Communication. Lots of Off the Beaten Path options for internet weirdos. Firmoo p much always has a promotion going.

My wallet is so happy. SO HAPPY. Frames run $20-30ish to start. lenses will vary with your prescription and options.

If y'all want 50% off your first frames and to give me a $10 credit they have a referral program and my code is T4Z8I2. BOGO20 is a better value but it expires 11/01/23.

The Bad:

Not flexible about lens options- you go down one track and pick your options within that. If there was a way to put tinting on a pair of glasses other than blue light blocking I couldn't find it. (in contrast I believe Zenni lets you choose a range of colors and tint depth on any pair, designed as sunnies or not)

You Will Get Emails. Firmoo REALLY wants you to buy more glasses and post about it and tell your friends and HERE THIS CODE IS ONLY GOOD FOR 3 DAYS, GO BUY NEW GLASSES. They are marketing themselves to fashionable young influencers who change styles every month. Unsubscribe with impunity.

like Zenni, this is a company with the majority of it's functionality based overseas. It's cheaper because you're ordering directly from a factory and not paying Luxotica's markups to itself. Customer service is mostly English as Second Language speakers and there may be delays.

Not For Emergencies. I was able to coast on a pair of glasses from a prescription or 2 ago but it's gonna take time for your order to be made and shipped.

Overall I'm very happy with them and will probably order again.

Next time I have spare money I'm aiming at Wherelight because y'all. they are next down on the list of reputable to shady AF but they have the most amazing WTF designs.

#glasses #low vision #review #pock posts a thing #firmoo.com #vision impaired #long post

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nomairuins · 5 months ago

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iza my princess. + picture of her face normal and also her alien face. im not showing her outfits bc i am not proud of them i dont think they look good,

getting her ready for her wedding SHES SO PRETTY!!

#i donot like izas outfits as much again its SO hard to dress her for some reason. the colors they elude me. but i think shes so pretty #she also doesnt normally wear makeup like at alll so im kind of proud of her wedding makeup here. yay <3 #as u can see her alien form is identical shes just green and bald LMAO #she never gets to be in her alien form unfortunately... SAD!#but ya. shes so cute and im so frustrated i dont have a good grasp on her sense of style bc im VERY happy with how she looks otherwise #like thank god for my sliders bc i have her body like exactly right which is difficult. in sims games. bc its difficult to make fat sims #that look like fat ppl yk. but ive got a double chin slider that i loveee idk how well u can see from this angle but she has a double chin #and i think shes so cute. WHY cant i dress her properly !!#her alien form she mostly just wears long black slightly alien esque dresses which is so boring #and her human form i just like. i was tired of doing outfits #i just dont know what shed wear like. shes an alien but shes also like an Earth tourist in a way. rly shed probably at least at the #beginning just wear andys clothes bc crashlanding lol. but yk... IDK #i wanted 2 have her in sort of like. yk the like historybounding sort of like. not actually historically accurate but taking inspo and stuf #like i think shed look so pretty in a corset top........ i need 2 redo her wardrobe #but ya again thank god for sliders #ive got one that lets you like. change the. ig depth of the body?? idk how 2 describe its just like. instead of leftto right width its like #front to back width you can adjust and thank god bc without it it just looks weird bc they like. theyre the same dimensions as like. skinni #r sims from the side unless u give them the gigantic belly. so yes thank u sliders

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 1 year ago

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Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 16.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: whoops plot. I didn't really proofread this — sorry. Also sorry it is taking so long for the chapters to come out. I hope you still love me.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Links: Part 1, ….. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Maybe it was the expensive clothes you were wearing. Maybe it was the understated, quiet luxury of the handbag you walked through that office door carrying. Could it be the shoes? Surely the casual observer couldn’t have noticed the bright red soles of the brand new Louboutins on your feet as you walked.

Perhaps there was some extra oxygen filling up your chest somehow making you carry yourself with an added bit of confidence; making you feel as if you could float away with even the slightest breeze.

You felt as if you were a completely different person. You felt as if the others could tell. It couldn’t just all be happening inside of your head either because you caught evidence of some reactions to you; little things. Tiny double takes as you walked by. Slight widening of eyes when you entered your meetings; slight twinges in the expressions of their faces; barely detectable save for how very aware of yourself and of all of them you felt inside of your skin right now.

So much was new. So much felt different.

You were, in very new and very real ways, very suddenly and unequivocally … somebody’s.

And that somebody he was — he was yours too.

It had a taste to it — it was rich and sweet and secretive and quick. A fresh baked cookie swiped when Mom’s back was turned. Hasty kisses stolen behind heavy wooden doors and brushes of warm fingertips over the back of a hand as you walked by. The whispered lean of a warm shoulder against your own as you both stood in an elevator; surrounded by people; acutely aware of the rhythm of only eachother’s breathing.

A smell like very early morning just before dawn on Christmas Day; the smell of pine and cinnamon and the crisp chill of snow outside, like hiding at the top of the stairs to catch a forbidden glimpse of Santa Claus.

Warm brown eyes from across a hectic room touched into yours again and again. You knew you were staring. You had very little control over it though. This was so very unlike you. Baekhyun was as busy as you had been. The project was wrapping today and loose ends had to be tied up. Final documents had to be submitted to clients. Plus he had been training his replacement on all of his tasks and duties. Tomorrow would be the wrap party. You could hardly wait to unclench. You’d have some drinks with your team and you’d even get to dance. Maybe you could get away with a dance or two with your soon to be ex-assistant without drawing too many curious gazes.

You could dance together one or twice, couldn’t you? You could stand to be held in his arms and swung around the dance floor without leaning in too close or gazing too deeply into his deep brown eyes as you did it, right?

You did your absolute best to look at something else; at anything else.

Those deep brown eyes had found yours once again. Again and again, he found you. Maybe it wasn’t only you who had been staring at him as he showed Assistant Cha the ropes; as he leaned in and spoke very closely with her; as he told her things that made her head roll back and big belly laughs erupted from her bosom that shook like jelly when she laughed dramatically with her whole body.

She reached a hand out and her fingertips touched lightly along his forearm; making contact for a fraction of a second — no more time than the width of a strand of hair. Not enough time of actual contact to warrant any sort of comment about it at all. It was not even any real touch on his skin even; she got his shirt sleeve. This was nothing. This certainly wasn’t anything that warranted such a ridiculously detailed description inside the ever-present internal monologue that played through your head when you thought about this man. It could hardly even be called a touch, really.

Still…she touched his arm. She laughed and giggled and smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at him and you knew, you knew what it felt like to look at him and talk to him and feel that attraction and desire and lust and want. You knew of the kinds of irrational and impossible fantasies that would fly through her head at the very thought of just one of her desperate touches being returned by him.

You could not blame her. He was beautiful.

He moved his arm down and away; probably purposefully. He was reaching for something and just before he spoke, just before his movement nagged at her focus and pulled her dreamy eyes away from his pretty face and down onto what he had to show her, just before his focus dropped to the papers or notebooks or tablet or whatever the hell it was that he held inside his hand, you had them once more; those deep brown eyes that looked into yours from across this space; those brown eyes of his that found yours again and again no matter where you were and no matter where he was — it was like a magnet. He looked at you and you looked at him and the sound and the commotion and the ever present din inside of this busy workspace fell weirdly silent to your own ears.

You had to stop this.

You pulled your focus away from the two of them and you looked around the room at your team. It took so much effort to do.

With the exception of one person, the entire team was immersed in their own tasks. There was a bittersweet vibe in the air and each and every one of these people, to the very end, was giving it their all.

As your eyes made their way around to each desk, glimpsing lightly over its occupant, you reached a person who’s presence had been so familiar to you that you only half jumped to find her looking right at you.

Sandi, a senior member of your translating team and the person who occupied the seat closest to your office door, the person who had worked with you for probably the longest out of all of the group, who you had shared many long nights with over the course of your career, Sandi was watching you with a quiet amusement on her face.

You met her eyes with as much strength and fortitude as you could manage but you admittedly felt a bit taken aback to have had her attention during this time; this time when you foolishly had assumed no one could possibly be paying any attention to you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Perhaps a small smile in your direction and maybe she would resume her work. Or maybe she was watching you because she had a question for you. You strengthened the eye contact with Sandi and lifted your eyebrows in question. Doing your absolute best to keep any guilty expressions from manifesting in your eyes.

You definitely hadn’t expected the next words that came out of her mouth.

“You should stop watching them. She doesn’t hold a candle—“ she began out loud but just as suddenly as she spoke, her words halted abruptly as she closed up her mouth with a start, shaking her head in quick shallow passes. The small self-satisfied smile that had been coloring her lips before she opened her mouth had now slipped away and her eyes widened as she turned her head away from you; averting her eyes. She lifted a hand to cover over her mouth, clearly surprised that she would say such a thing out loud.

Sandi may have been surprised by herself, but you felt blindsided. You felt your mouth go dry and a spindly tingling slowly crept up the back of your neck.

She knew.

Sandi knew.

You felt sick.

The panic that surged through you was swift and complete and it took your breath and what was left of your rational mind.

Without your mind working, all you could manage was to stare down at the girl in silence until you exhaled a purposefully slow breath through your mouth. She had both of her hands over her parted lips and she was reeling. You felt similarly but thankfully years of working through impossible and stressful situations where your facial expression mattered, kept the reeling happening inside of you where it should stay.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, Miss Manager. I didn’t mean—”

“Sandi — come see me in my office, please.”

Sandi knew you better than most. You’d worked closely beside her for so many years, if anyone would have noticed the obvious change in you since you’d met Baekhyun it would be Sandi. It made the most sense that she would have noticed something was going on. But still, you felt blindsided by this revelation. It wasn’t that you didn't trust the woman, you did. If anyone in this office was going to know such a damning secret about you, it might as well be Sandi.

You felt guilty. You felt very much in the wrong. You’d always strived to set such a good example to your team members and here you’d been caught red-handed, having done such a thing with your direct subordinate of all people, with your assistant! Yes, yes you had already processed his transfer, met with his new team lead, you were doing your absolute best to remove Baekhyun from any and every position beside you, beneath you, any connection to you as quickly as you possibly could. But the fact remained, you were in direct violation of company policy. You should have come clean to HR the second you’d realized just how inappropriate the professional relationship with Baekhyun had turned to have him transferred out that very day.

But you had been weak.

You had delayed it; torn by the very thought of losing him from your side and now…now someone knew. What if she had the wrong idea? What if she thought you used your influence over him to coerce him into the relationship? What if she thought it was one sided, or what if she used this new-found information to hold over you?

You shook your head back and forth as she walked through the doorway of your office and quietly closed the door behind her. Her head was downcast and she moved slowly through the space to take a seat beside where you sat with your hands clenched together in your lap on the small sofa in the center of the room.

“Miss Manager, I really didn’t mean anything bad by what I said. I was just thinking out loud and it slipped out.” She began quickly, as soon you felt the cushion dip when she sat down.

“Can you tell me what you meant by it?” You kept your voice low and careful as you replayed her words again in your mind, a quiet disbelief dancing along the edges of your memory. Maybe you heard her wrong, or maybe she didn't mean it exactly as it sounded to you. Maybe your guilty conscience had you running when nothing was even chasing you.

She didn't speak for a few moments and you swallowed the moisture inside your mouth, lifted your head and looked around the clean space of your office.

“You said that I can stop watching them, who do you think I was watching?” You probed again, realizing that your face, which was angled away from her now, might have not been as in control as usual. You could feel the dampness in your eyes and you blinked quickly.

“Baekhyun and Assistant Cha. Nothing is going on there. There is nothing to worry about. I’m on your side, by the way — both of you.”

You had confirmed it.

She knew.

You felt your steady resolve crumble with the deep sigh of defeat that left your chest and the oxygen leaving your lungs pulled your eyelids closed until all of the light was shut out for a moment. Just for a moment.

You only needed one moment.

“How did you know?” The delicacy of your words, tantamount to a confession, balanced lightly on the tip of your tongue. Your voice sounded so much smaller than you were used to hearing from yourself.

Her reply did not come instantly but the delay in her response, you knew, was more imagined by your own sense of urgency than in anything she was doing. Still, you were impatient to know; enough to turn your gaze from the safety of the silent bookshelf full of items you had owned and controlled for years to look anxiously upon the expressions written on her face and the unpredictable and uncontrollable harsh truths you might find in her eyes.

“Does anyone else know?” You whispered another quiet question, despite the fact that she hadn’t answered the first one yet.

Her eyes watched your face and in them you saw a lightness and warmth. On her lips was the smallest sweet smile that brought you back again to the woman you knew so well; the woman you had worked with closely over the years on several projects, through countless sleepless nights, tirelessly and side by side. The valuable member of your team who proved herself to be trustworthy and reliable. The woman you sought out first when something needed to be handled discreetly and quickly.

She was watching your face and she inhaled a small breath to speak.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who could possibly know,” she said with that soft smile still inside her warm eyes. She was reaching into her pocket to pull out her cellphone and you looked down at her illuminated screen as she opened up an app. It was Instagram. She clicked a few times and eventually landed on a profile that was familiar. It was Baekhyun’s account and a few harmless pictures down his feed, her fingers stopped scrolling when she reached something that you knew would be a picture he had posted one of the nights he’d spent in your bed.

It was an innocuous shot of his hand holding your hand with only an alarm clock visible in the background. The time read 02:16 A.M. and it sat atop a wooden bedside table. Nothing else was in focus. The background of the picture was blurred beyond recognition with only a hazy outline of the very tip of the tail of your darkened bird lamp but definitely not anything that was recognizable about it. Neither of you wore any jewelry that might possibly come back to you. You looked at the words he wrote below the image — ‘I die for any little bit of you, my love.’ — and while yes, it had filled you with butterflies and made you kick and scream under your covers in secret when you saw what he wrote, for the purposes of Sandi identifying you from just this— was she a witch? How could she possibly have known?

There was nothing there. Nothing that pointed to you so conclusively that she would present this evidence to you with such conviction.

“From his posts, I knew he was seeing someone, but when I saw this, it suddenly made sense — how you could have changed so much since he joined. Anyway, I bought you that clock as a Secret Santa gift last year. So obviously I would be the only one to recognize it. I am glad to see you still use it.”

“Would you believe me if I said I gave the clock away to my sister, so that couldn’t possibly be me in the picture?”

You said it jokingly; feeling as if a switch had been flipped with Sandi since she knew something so very damning about you. What authority and respect? This woman saw and knew too much. You now had a confidant and maybe even a friend. Oh no! What if you had to transfer her to another department too? You couldn’t keep losing your best people like this just because you couldn’t keep your work life separated from your personal life.

You honestly felt as if you’d lost all control in this job the moment that man walked through your office door on his first day of work.

“You don’t have a sister.”

“Right,” you conceded quickly.

“Miss Manager,” Sandi began after a few moments, “you don’t need to feel so guilty about this. I really don’t think either of you have done anything wrong. And isn’t that why he’s being transferred so suddenly? To avoid any problems with the company.”

“And let me guess. He made the first move, right? I’m certain of it. I noticed how he looks at you. Since last year even.”

“Last year? You knew him from before this project?”

“You don’t remember him? He was interning with Manager Jung Ho. Ahhh maybe it was the red hair and the glasses.”

Sandi still had her phone out and was scrolling again, this time through her own photo albums that went back through the years. You recognized yourself in many of the shots. Candid pictures as you both worked, a few of the group laughing together as the team unwound after some particularly hectic days. Her scrolling stopped abruptly and you looked down to where she touched with her index finger on a pretty boy with wavy red hair, wearing round gold wire glasses and standing literally right beside you, his eyes looking at you while you were about as busy as could be focusing on putting out several fires at once.

“Here he is. Always following around Miss Manager Noona. Always staring at Miss Manager Noona and talking about Miss Manager Noona. He was so annoying,” she said with a hearty laugh. She scrolled again and image after image showed a similar scene, Baekhyun taking stolen glances at you and you with your mind so occupied at the time you didn’t even remember him. The more pictures you saw of the young red-head with the glasses the more the actual memories of him popped into your mind.

He was bright and chipper and you never did catch his name at the time. He was noisy and full of laughter and full of life and you…well, you had a dark storm cloud hanging over your head back then. Last year was a hard year for you. You had some professional failures that you still dwelled on and some even worse personal failures involving one relationship that still burned you to think about. You’d nearly given up on all things romance at the time; sworn off men forever with their lies and their cheating ways. It was no wonder your eyes had been so blind to the entire person standing beside you; rooting for you; building you up as he had done back then.

You remembered him more as you looked at the pictures. Now his face was so recognizable to you, after you had fallen in love with everything about him, you’d even be able to spot him with bright blue hair and a fake mustache on. But apparently all it had taken was a pair of glasses and a wavy red perm.

“I can’t believe he pulled a Superman-Clark Kent on me — ohhhh…look at how cute he was!” You cooed right out loud. A momentary lapse made you forget where you were and as soon as the sickeningly saccharine words left your lips you lifted a hand to cover over your parted lips.

She laughed out loud , “Oh no, you’ve got it bad. You’ll invite me to the wedding, won’t you?”

She was joking when she said it but you closed up your mouth and pulled both of your lips between your teeth, biting down to try and keep from doing something stupid like squealing from the pent up excitement you felt when you thought about marrying him. Your strong reaction was yet another confession. She had gone motionless the moment you didn't laugh it off as just a funny joke.

“Of course you are invited,” you whispered just under your breath and her laughter quit suddenly, her lips hung open, and her eyes widened significantly.

“Oh my god. What? What?!” She was whispering, but it was a very loud and very excited sounding whisper. “Are you serious?”

You felt her hands grip around your upper arms and she gave you a good shake. It made the laughter break free from your chest and you were giggling now. It was useless to fight it. You could feel the excitement building the more she shook you and the louder her whispering giggles grew. You lifted both hands to cover over your face as your entire body shook with laughter.

You gave into it; the joy and anticipation that her genuine excitement brought out of you and by the time you heard the soft two knocks on your office door you had to wipe away moisture from your eyes from giggling so much before you could compose yourself enough to call out to whoever was knocking that the door was unlocked and they could come in.

The door was pushed and a familiar head of blond hair poked inside just before you saw the rest of his face.

“Miss Manager,” Baekhyun spoke cautiously with his face carefully controlled as he said it. Not even any flirtatious tones hidden in a sweet grin or a secret wink. He was on his best behavior today with so many witnesses around. You hadn’t had a single pointed look from him in hours. It had been at least two hours since you felt the warmth of his fingertips on the skin of the back of your hand. It had been a solid hour since he had looked into your eyes for longer than thirty seconds and allowed those eyes to slip down and steal a glance at your lips.

“You have a meeting upstairs in five,” he said and he pushed the door open further. You could make out Assistant Cha standing just behind him; a thick and heavily scribbled notebook held up to her chest with both of her arms wrapped tightly around it as if it carried all of the secrets of her very new and scary universe.

You nodded your head to the pair of them and quickly gathered your end-of-project meeting materials.

Sandi was excusing herself quietly; if not rather slowly. You caught the lingering examination she gave to Baekhyun as she made her way around the sofa you both had been squealing on moments earlier and seemed to be taking her time with the exit. If he noticed anything amiss, he didn't make it known, but after a few moments of her looking into his face she simply nodded her head once, smiled a sweet smile in his direction and said a quick, “Okay, okay. I can see it. I could have sworn you used to wear glasses.”

You bit down on the side of your tongue to suppress any remaining giggles.

Baekhyun’s eyes danced around her face for a moment in mild confusion and he frowned his lips with a tiny pout, inhaling lightly and parting his lips to respond. But before he could offer any explanation she turned her head back in your direction, gave you a small wave of her hand and a quick, “See you at the wrap party, Miss Manager,” and she then was gone.

You’d made it half of the way through the rows of cubicles when a tap on your shoulder halted your steps and pulled your attention behind you. You recognized that the person calling you was Baekhyun and your eyes were pulled down toward his hand in which he held a small post-it note.

“Excuse me, Miss Manager, I think you dropped this,” he said as he pushed the small folded-in-half piece of colorful paper into the palm of your hand. You knew you must have had a questioning look inside your eyes, at least for the first few seconds of this, but you quickly recovered with a nod and a quiet thank-you on your lips. You slipped the paper inside the pocket of your blazer.

As your legs moved, you noticed that Baekhyun and Assistant Cha held back some, and your curiosity about the small token from your boyfriend felt absolutely itchy. It was as if that small note was pulsing as it called to you from inside your pocket. You slipped your hand in and pulled it out, glancing around quickly to take note of the fact that no one around was paying you any attention at all and with Baekhyun’s steps so far behind you figured no one would mind if you read whatever little details might have been written just for you on this note.

‘I miss you today. You are right here and I miss you to death. I am being so brave about it. You can compliment me about it later, if you want.

P.S. Which season do you like best?’

You silently slipped the note back inside your pocket with a lovely little tap over the fabric to make sure it was secure. You felt as if this elevator you stood inside was carrying you straight into the clouds above this building. He probably couldn't text you freely because of the close proximity of his shadow, Assistant Cha. Or maybe he just wanted to hand you this adorable little note as a physical token of his affection; something you could hold in your hand and lightly touch with the tip of your finger. You half wondered if you should just text him back the answer to his question.

Instead you held your finger over the elevator button to keep it open long enough for the pair of assistants to finally join you inside and you caught the briefest touch of his brown eyes as he stepped inside.

His eyes did not linger. Yours did not chase but you did feel the distinct presence of the warmth of his body as he stepped into the space directly behind you. There were no secret touches or hidden attempts to reach for you inside this space. The high speed elevator surged up quickly; its destination was amongst the upper floors and with the abrupt movement you rocked lightly on your legs to keep your balance. You reached a hand out to rest it over the bar and a glance to your right, just over your shoulder afforded you the view of a familiar hand doing the same. Long slender fingers flexed once outward in your direction, but his hand did not move any closer to you and eventually those fingers simply wrapped around the silver pole for the remainder of the elevator ride.

You would not let your fingers leave his skin tonight.

You’d had your fill of denial.

The meeting was typical for this stage of a project. You paid exactly enough attention as you needed to. Your presentation showcased your team’s successes and honestly, although you didn’t tend to toot your own horn, your own performance looked incredibly impressive as well. Although with such a capable team it was hard not to look incredible. You gave credit where credit was due as you always did and as the other managers and directors said their parts you pulled out a small note pad from your bag and began penning a response to your boyfriend. You did your best to keep your face from showing too much but you could feel the elation pulling your lips into a small smile as you drew the little sad faced emoji in the middle of the note.

‘You are very brave, and doing so much better than I am. I got caught staring at you today. :( Sandi knows now.

P.S. I like the fall. Winter is too cold, Spring is too sneezy, and Summer is too hot. Although you kissed me in the summertime so I like it now too.

P.P.S. I remember you now, from Jung Ho’s project. I didn’t know you wore glasses.

P.P.P.S. It’s not fair for you to look so handsome in every hair color. ’

You stopped writing when you ran out of space. This all could have gone so much smoother in a text message, but there was something magical about writing all of this out in a note to secretly pass to him in person.

Your meeting ended and there was another meeting coming up just after lunch. Your busy schedule and the ever present assembly of people around you didn’t give you any opportunities to pass on the note. And when you would have normally both found yourselves alone with each other, now there was an entirely new person around with her own set of eyes, watching and learning all sorts of things about her new position. And hopefully just that.

She was fine. You could tell that Baekhyun was right about her. She would do well and she would succeed in her new role. You would come to depend on her and appreciate her too. Maybe even the strange undeserved bitterness you felt when you looked at her pretty young face would fade.

But now, you wished she had some other place she desperately had to be.

You found your chance just after lunch when Assistant Cha had departed to the bathrooms. You spotted Baekhyun leaning against a pillar on the ground floor checking the time on his watch, looking about as handsome as could be in his suit and ignoring the many curious glances from various ladies and men who walked by him. He seemed to be waiting for something and you slipped closer to where he stood, careful not to be spotted as you made your way around the other side of the pillar.

You’d reached a hand out to tap on his shoulder at the exact moment that a ping sounded out on his cell phone and he moved out of the way just as your fingers extended so that they touched nothing. You felt a little silly.

While you felt a tinge of disappointment that you’d missed your chance, you also felt a surge of mild curiosity about what he was up to. He made his way toward the security turnstiles and met with a run-of-the mill food delivery man who handed him a small black bag from a local bakery down the block. You’d recognized the logo of one of your favorite shops that had the absolute best fruit tarts you’d ever had and a chocolate cake slice that you’d just about sell your soul for.

He was walking back with his head and his focus turned down into the small bag and you spun on your heels behind your pillar so he would not see you stalking him.

Your feet moved lightly, feeling like you were in some sort of spy movie as you moved along with him, yet just out of his sight as he made his way toward the elevator. The button was pressed, the lights illuminated and after a few moments the soft ding let you know that he would be stepping forward into that quiet space. What kind of deal with the devil did you have to make for that elevator to be empty?

He stepped inside and you held back. You counted in your head just a few times before moving and just as the doors were closing you slipped inside the space, earning the quiet gasp from the very center of his chest when he saw you.

It was empty. You had him alone for a few seconds at least.

“Excuse me, Assistant Byun, I think you dropped this.” You did your best impression of him and held up the little colorful note you had with a cheeky smile that he returned instantly as he reached out quick fingertips to grab the note.

Baekhyun wasted no time. His fingers pulled the small sheet apart and his mouth moved as he silently formed the words of your message with his lips.

“Oh my god,” he gasped quietly; having absorbed the bad news from the note first, “Sandi knows? How?”

“She’s a better detective than Batman,” you shrugged rather casually. Both because you trusted Sandi and you figured if you weren’t freaking out about this, then maybe he would take it in stride as well. “She showed me some pictures of you from last year.”

“Did she?” His lips were pulled into a smile and you caught the little lift of his chin and the scrunch of his nose.

You nodded twice, acutely aware of how telling the smile on your face must look to him. “I remember you. I didn't know your name though. But you looked very cute with the little glasses and the hair,” you lifted a hand to make a waving motion with your fingers above your own head. “Did you get LASIK? Where are the glasses?”

He was reaching a hand out to press a button on the elevator panel and his eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips.

“Oh, that was just fashion. They never had any lenses in them. I have perfect vision.”

His clarification made you laugh out loud. You leaned against the back wall of the elevator and looked into his face freely, feeling every bit of the affection and attraction you had for the man fill up your chest with contentment. At last, you had a moment alone with him. You could look at him. You could stare at him and you could daydream and you could let every single recent memory of the love you shared with him flood your mind freely in this shared space without onlookers or witnesses.

Baekhyun leaned against the side wall, doing just about the exact same thing to you and when his head leaned back against the elevator wall his eyelids sank down half closed, his jaw relaxed, and his lips parted with a slow exhale of air from deep within his lungs.

“I wish I could touch you,” he whispered under his breath.

“Me too,” you confessed, “stupid cameras,” you added without breaking eye contact with him; although you did let your head fall some to rest against the back wall.

“I’ll kiss you in the wintertime,” he said with a smile pulling at his lips, “so you don't feel the cold so much.” His sweet words and that pretty smile pulled a matching smile from you. You lifted a hand to cover over your mouth, tapping lightly over your lips with your fingertips.

“Let’s have a winter wedding,” he said.

“This winter? So soon?” You didn’t hear any objection in your voice. Only curiosity.

He nodded and blinked his eyes slowly; a truly dreamy expression taking over his features.

“We can honeymoon somewhere without pollen and I will kiss you in the springtime.”

You couldn’t stand it. You felt ready to burst right here inside this elevator; just from his sweet, romantic promises that coated you from head to toe.

In the recesses of your mind; in the bargaining parts, you could hear the questions parading by.

What if you reached a hand out and pressed the button for the ground floor on this elevator panel. What if you pulled him by the shirt sleeve — didn’t give a good damn about who saw — and marched him right out of this office building, out onto the street, and hailed a cab destined for your apartment. What if you said screw who knew the truth, screw the wrap and the endless droning meetings, screw this job. What if you took him home and you locked both of you inside your home for a month straight. Nothing but the two of you and the privacy you would find in that bedroom.

“I miss you,” he said softly under his breath with his eyes still locked onto your face. Your mind had been wandering but his words pulled you back into yourself.

“I’m right here,” you said with a small smile, blinking your eyes slowly and purposefully in his direction again and again, as if you could send him a message with their movement — I love you, I love you, I love you — your eyelids called out to him.

“I miss you, though,” he said again with a long exhale from his lungs. “What am I going to do next week when I can't look up and see you whenever I want?”

The elevator slowed its rapid upward movement and you could feel it in your stomach as it slowed to a stop. Someone must be joining; you hadn’t yet reached your destination but it appeared that someone would come and interrupt this. Damn them. A soft ding let you know the doors were about to open. Your few moments of alone time with him was coming to an end.

Baekhyun was still talking though; still lost inside his own head and caught up in the dread of the upcoming changes you both would need to adjust to.

“I sound pathetic, don’t I?” You had to look away from his face but from your peripherals you caught the small step he took in your direction as he moved closer to you.

“Baekhyun, someone is coming in.” You didn’t have time to reassure him that this feeling he was going through was not something he was alone in. You also felt the loneliness and the ache to touch him. You were also feeling the sense of dread for the upcoming weeks without him by your side.

But right now was not the time. Not with this camera above both of your heads and the elevator doors about to open and whoever it was that had called the elevator was about to walk in.

A few simultaneous sensations happened. You could feel the jolt as the elevator came to a full stop and, at the same time, Baekhyun’s soft fingertips brushed against the back of your hand. He had taken another step it seemed and he was beside you; his wandering hand reaching down to run a slow path over your skin down the back of your hand. You felt the moment his fingers wrapped around your palm and slipped lower as each fingertip slipped just in-between your own fingers.

You had to pull away. The doors opened.

You pulled your hand out of his grip quickly, if not a bit forcefully, and you stepped away at the same time; putting a good two steps worth of distance between the two of you. You brought your hands in front of you and clasped them together and you looked up just in time to make eye contact with a terrifyingly familiar set of brown eyes. Brown eyes that bore a strikingly frightening resemblance to the very same brown eyes that had been burning a hole into your heart all day long.

You were sure the first few moments of the eye contact, you had a look of absolute panic. You were certain he would have seen fear in your eyes.

You did your best to push a smile to your face. Inside of your chest your heartbeat had jolted to life, sending thundering booms through your entire torso. You felt the trembling from it. You swallowed nervously and you could hardly hear your own words from your lips over the echo of your racing heart inside of your eardrums.

“President Byun,” you said softly; wincing internally at just how terrified you sounded as you said his name. “Lovely to see you, Sir.”

Your greeting earned you a curt head nod and his eyes immediately moved to touch upon his son’s face.

“What floor?” You were closest to the buttons and you inhaled through your parted lips and forced the air back out slowly, desperately hoping your question hadn’t sounded stupid. He was the president and every one knew his offices occupied the top floor.

“Top?” Your finger hovered over the button and your nervous question another swift nod of his head. He spared you only a fraction of his attention before he was standing beside Baekhyun, who kept his eyes fixed securely on the closing elevator doors.

The doors closed and you stepped back, holding your hands together in front of your abdomen so they wouldn't tremble and give away the raging anxiety that was surging through you right now.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You knew seeing his father again after all that had transpired between you and Baekhyun would bring some strong emotions but you were having about as strong a reaction as you could take quietly. It was the suddenness of this.

You kind of just wanted to run away from this. Yet you were trapped inside this moving box with these two men who hadn’t spoken a word to each other despite sharing a familial bond, sharing a bloodline, sharing a home for most of Baekhyun’s life, you couldn't help but notice that Baekhyun hadn’t even said hello to the man. Nor had the man said anything to his son, but the two of them merely stood side by side in this elevator and looked ahead with blank and passive faces.

You felt a tickle in your throat. It was the nerves. You fought the urge to cough and quickly realized it was useless and you turned your head a little and cleared your throat, trying to rid yourself of the annoying feeling without actually coughing inside a closed elevator in a time when coughing in public was a major faux pas.

The sound of your own throat cleaning was timed perfectly with the sound of President Byun’s feet as he took a single step forward so that he was standing ahead of the both of you and he inhaled a breath into his lungs to speak out loud into the space right in front of his face.

“I have received some very interesting news this morning,” President Byun said in a steady and confident voice without any flinching in his body language to favor one side of him or another. There was nothing given to indicate that he was speaking to any one of you in particular.

“What is that, Sir,” Baekhyun said; at last acknowledging his father. You couldn't find the nerve to get your own voice to work. You held your breath and then tried your best to keep your breathing steady and even. You felt the slight pain in the back of your hand as your nails gripped hard into your own flesh.

He didn’t turn around to look at either of you when he spoke again, he merely inhaled a breath, opened his mouth and dropped a bomb right on top of both of your heads.

“I heard that you think … that you’re getting married.”

[To Be Continued]

Links: Part 1, …. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut

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cloud-kaiju · 6 months ago

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Will continue the Werewolf Story post TF, under the tag #teethingproblems, so number 1.

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Luc stumbled with the first step.

The sensation had faded now, and her long tail and strange wings flexed to balance her as if standing on tip toe was second nature. Having virtual exercise balls glued to her chest and perhaps double the mess was not second nature though.

She looked over again- paw-claw-hands, pale white fur and blood red hair, the body beyond voluptuous. Just as Luc had designed his character to be for the virtual reality game, Tales of Lore. But the game, the virtual reality stuff, and all his clothes were gone, and instead he- she- was this no middle sliders vampire werewolf character.

How human even was she? Curiosity pushed her through the small flat, tail flailing for balance, to the bathrooms shaving mirror. Was she like a ravening monster face? Or like, Sonic style?

FLUFT.

Her momentum came to an abrupt stop as she ducked through the doorway, and felt a wooden vice on her abundant hips. She took another step, but her fleshy rear overfilled the portal’s width, and she slammed her paws against the frame, straining with a frustrated resounding GRRRRRROWL.

The wood creaked in response as her paws scrabbled off the floor, her mass bounced with the effort, and cracks began to spread from the point of pressure. He had designed this character to be max strength, a complete bombshell aesthetically and effectively, there was no way a puny doorway could stop her!

#teethingproblems #werewolf #transfur #monstergirl #size tumblr #posttf #lycanthrope #furry art #furry tf #vamwolf

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extra-stout-stories · 7 months ago

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The Weight Clinic

A fat man who's unsure about losing weight signs up for a very unusual treatment program led by a dominant doctor with an agenda of her own. (SSBHM feedee, SSBBW feeder, implicit XWG. CW: Dubious consent, drugs, medical and deathfeedist elements.)

This story was written swiftly in response to an ask on my old blog: "A man signs up for a blind study of a weight loss drug (he doesn't want to lose weight, but you know how society is.) Unfortunately for him, it's run by a less than honest BBW scientist who decides to fatten him up instead." When I read that, I had to immediately sit down and transcribe the thunderbolt of inspiration before it passed. This could easily turn into a much longer story, and now that I've created this little fictional universe, I might come back to it some day. The dubcon is because I wanted to write a dommy mad scientist feeder, but if the story continued, our protagonist would definitely come to enjoy it and realize that she was right all along.

(April 2024: This is by far the most popular story I've written, and I'm moving it here so I can centralize likes/reblogs and deactivate my defunct account. I'm slowly working on a sequel as the inspiration strikes me.)

Please read the content warnings. If dubcon and medical/deathfeedist themes upset you, please don't click.

If you like it, on the other hand, please reblog.

He sighed inwardly as the receptionist led him past the double doors and into the medical suite of the clinic.

He didn't want to be doing this. Being fat had never bothered him. He had been fat since childhood, and as an adult he embraced the freedom of eating whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. In fact, there were times when he secretly enjoyed being fat. There was something profoundly satisfying about the way his belly was soft and heavy in his lap when he sat, the way his double chin was like a cushion when he tilted his head. Lately it seemed like he was inching closer and closer to 400 pounds whenever he stepped on the scale, and sometimes a part of him even looked forward to it.

But he was getting sick of how the rest of the world treated him. At Thanksgiving dinner, after he had gone back to the side table for a fourth helping of mashed potatoes, his parents had given him a fierce tag-team lecture about how his weight was out of control and he was overdue for a diet. Buying new clothes was getting expensive. And while the thought of 400 seemed strangely intriguing sometimes -- that's only a hundred pounds away from a quarter ton, he thought to himself -- he worried that if he got any bigger, he'd become one of those fat guys who was so big that they had trouble walking and had to use a scooter or wheelchair to get around.

There was a wheelchair in the corner of the room that the receptionist led him into. He couldn't help notice its gigantic width. "This is the suite where you'll be staying." The room looked like it was outfitted for a patient much bigger than he was. The king-sized bed was equipped with a bariatric Hoyer lift, and in addition to the usual IV bags and oxygen tanks, there were all sorts of medical machines he didn't recognize. The door to the bathroom and shower was only a few steps away from the edge of the bed, and he noticed a stainless steel railing to allow someone to steady themselves as they walked.

Noticing his expression, the receptionist continued. "You'll be staying here in the regular suite, since you don't have any serious mobility issues. Further down the hallway there's a second suite for larger patients. Both rooms will be kept operational during your stay in case there are any complications. As we discussed earlier, you'll be forbidden to leave the premises for the duration of the study. We can't have you going out to eat and breaking your diet."

He sighed inwardly again. He was already thinking of his usual Friday night meal, nachos and mozzarella sticks followed by a hamburger and fries at his favorite diner, washed down with a milkshake or two with each course. I guess I am a binge eater, he thought to himself sadly. This isn't going to be fun, but if I don't get myself under control, I really am going to end up weighing 400.

As if reading his mind, the receptionist gave a prim smile. "I hope you'll find the results of the study to be satisfactory. Dr. Moore is excited to be taking you on as a patient. Come back to the front desk with me and we'll get your paperwork finalized."

They returned to the waiting room through the double doors and he sat down on a double-wide chair to review the clipboard full of paperwork. HIPAA, check. Records release form, check. Insurance card, check.

After several more signatures, he came to the final document on the clipboard. Consent to Experimental Treatment, the header read. He skimmed through the legal verbiage, trying his best to take note of anything significant. The clinic was a private enterprise, he read. Dr. Moore had affiliations with several prestigious universities, but he waived his right to hold them liable for treatment outcomes. No guarantees were made as to results. "The Moore Clinic program is designed to help patients reach a satisfactory body weight through the application of both physiological and cognitive-emotional treatments. To ensure accurate data collection and clinical efficacy, all care will be taken by the clinic staff to prevent external influences from interfering with treatment. Patients acknowledge that for the duration of the study they will be under the exclusive supervision of Dr. Moore. Her permission will be required before patients can contact outside parties via phone or Internet."

He thought to himself for a moment. Well, I'm no good at sticking to a diet on my own. I might as well give this a shot. He signed his name on the last page of the form.

"Congratulations." The receptionist smiled as he turned over the stack of forms. "We're glad to have you here. I'm sorry Dr. Moore couldn't be here to welcome you to the first night of the study, but she had another engagement. These are our nurses, Sandra and Kevin. They'll help you get settled."

Soon he was being ushered into the hospital suite by the two nurses. Sandra was short and curvaceous, Kevin tall and stocky, and he couldn't help notice that neither of them was skinny. Both of them were chubby, in fact. Chubby verging on fat. They gave him a hospital gown and a plastic bin to store his belongings in, then drew a curtain around the bed and waited patiently while he changed.

Naked beneath the loose-fitting hospital gown, he couldn't help being aware of how fat he was as the two nurses drew the curtain aside and began to prep him for the treatment. He could feel the softness of his belly against his thighs, the subtle motion of his rolls quivering, as Kevin attached electrodes to his moobs and belly. A fold of his fat upper arm brushed against his elbow as Sandra straightened his arm and swabbed to insert an IV. I'm going to miss all this, he thought to himself. If this works, I'll be just another skinny guy in a size M. I might even have abs. And I'll probably never eat mozzarella sticks again. As the drugs in the IV began to take hold, making him woozy and disoriented and sleepy, he couldn't help wondering if waking up skinny was going to feel like a nightmare.

"Well, well. My patient has finally come to."

From the slant of the light in the hospital suite, it was late afternoon. He lay in bed, still naked beneath his hospital gown, the IV tube still in his arm, the electrodes still on his chest. Staring down at him from the foot of the bed, an appraising smile on her face, was a fat woman. A very fat woman.

She wore a crisp white coat over a snug set of scrubs that did little to conceal how gigantic she was. Her stethoscope bounced against her enormous belly as she stepped around to the bedside and lowered herself onto a double-wide chair next to the IV bags. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her triple chins swayed and quivered as she craned her neck slightly to take a readout from one of the machines beside the bed, then bent her head down to type some notes on a tablet.

"Welcome to the clinic. I'm Dr. Moore."

He couldn't help but be baffled by her size. A private clinic specializing in weight loss, and she was the doctor in charge? She must have read the expression on his face, because she immediately burst out laughing. "Yes, I'm really Dr. Moore. And I'm very excited to have you as my patient." She scrolled through the tablet, her eyes moving rapidly as she reviewed his case file. "You're here for morbid obesity. You say you struggle with binge eating. And you're concerned that your weight is continuing to rise."

He nodded, feeling suddenly hazy. The anesthetic had worn off, but whatever else was in the IV was still taking effect.

"Tell me." Dr. Moore's voice was suddenly stern. "Did you come here to lose weight?"

"Yes." His throat went dry as he began to speak. He realized with a start that he was dreadfully thirsty, and something in Dr. Moore's tone made him nervous. "My primary care doctor says my goal weight is 180 pounds. I've tried a couple of different diets, but nothing worked."

"One hundred and eighty pounds?" Her voice was full of disbelief. "Oh, no, no, no. That won't do at all. I'm going to write you a new prescription."

His heart was suddenly pounding. He didn't like the way she was talking to him. "I think your goal weight should be… five hundred and eighty pounds. For a start."

He tried to speak but no words came out. His throat was terribly dry. Dr. Moore turned the tablet to face him. "See? Goal weight five hundred and eighty pounds." There it was on his patient chart, as clear as day. She smiled. "I think you must be disoriented. Did you know you've been under anesthesia for four days? The treatment takes time to take effect. I'm going to get you something to drink." Without rising from her chair, she reached to open a refrigerator by the side of the bed. He had seen it during his tour and had assumed it was full of syringes and dry ice, but it was full of… cups? Giant cardboard cups with straws, the kind a fast food restaurant might use for a soda or a milkshake. She reached out and grabbed two.

"Drink. This will help settle you down." He wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked eagerly, feeling a cool, sweet, creamy liquid flow down his throat, soothing the dryness. It was a milkshake, he realized. Then he realized that he was ravenously hungry.

"Yes, that's your appetite coming back. Or rather, coming to. It never left, but you've been getting your nutrients intravenously while you were under. We call that one the 'feedbag.'" She gestured to one of the IV bags that fed into the tube leading to his wrist. In the color scheme he had already come to recognize as the Moore Clinic's branding, it was stamped with the words: "HIGH CALORIE FORMULA."

His heart was still pounding, but he was feeling more relaxed now. He heard a rustling behind him and realized that Sandra, the nurse, was busy adjusting the proportions of the IV bags.

"Yes, that's a sedative." Dr. Moore smiled. "I thought it might help put you at ease while I explain the details of my treatment program." Her voice took on a firm and didactic tone, as if she were giving a lecture to an auditorium full of med students, but underneath it he felt that he could hear something almost… flirtatious?

"The Moore Clinic takes an unorthodox approach to the treatment of obesity. As a dual-certified endocrinologist and psychiatrist, I bring a unique perspective to both the metabolic and biosocial components of extreme weight gain." She paused. "Sandra, another high-calorie bag. Thank you." As the nurse replaced the now empty bag of formula, Dr. Moore continued. "Many of my patients arrive with deeply disordered cognitive attitudes towards body weight. They are unduly susceptible to social influences, preventing their full psychological individuation as a mentally well, hedonically satisfied obese person. They regard themselves as suffering from morbid obesity instead of enjoying it." She reached out to pat his belly. "I'm afraid you're a textbook case."

He could feel himself getting hazier and hazier until the world seemed to shrink to himself, the milkshakes and Dr. Moore. He couldn't tear himself away from her gaze as she continued to speak, her triple chins and dimpled fat cheeks quivering hypnotically as her eyes seemed to pierce right into him. "This is why the use of psychotropic drugs is a key component of my program. To fully undo the traumatic effects of societal fatphobia on my patients, I must be prepared to use the entire arsenal of modern psychopharmacology."

Sandra laughed, catching a hint of the shock on his face. "It's a real cocktail in these IV bags, honey. If Dr. Moore tried to sell this stuff at a nightclub, she'd be arrested."

The doctor smiled at her nurse. "That's right. Some of these are experimental drugs, and Federally scheduled. I'm fortunate to have a license, and a substantial research grant which pays for high-grade laboratory synthesis. And the same is true for my metabolic work."

She reached out and slipped a hand under his hospital gown, grabbing ahold of the fold of one of his moobs and squeezing playfully. Even through the increasingly powerful haze of the drug cocktail, he could feel himself blushing. "The other vector of cure," she continued, "is to address the body itself. Too many patients labor under the delusion that the unfortunate medical side effects of morbid obesity are somehow a reason they must lose weight." Her voice grew stern. "Nothing could be further from the truth. Obesity is not a disease. It's a lifestyle. And it's beautiful."

"But sometimes," she continued, a frown on her face, "my patients resist. This is why I require a minimum of four weeks' supervised stay at the clinic. The setting here accustoms my patients to the possibility of living with bariatric equipment as a full-time lifestyle." He looked around the room, suddenly seeing it with new eyes. "And while my patients get used to the pace and challenges of their new lifestyle, my metabolic treatment can do its work."

Despite the sedatives, his heart was pounding faster than ever. Her words seemed to move as slowly as molasses, her chins swaying back and forth like a pendulum, as her eyes gazed into his. "There's more than just calories and party drugs in those bags, you know. There's drugs to shock your system, break down your metabolism, destroy your body's resistance to gaining ever more weight. Even if you left the clinic right now, all the diets in the world couldn't fix your metabolism. My treatment has taken you to the point of no return."

Just barely, as if fighting his way through a slowly moving fog, he managed to gasp out a single word. "When?"

"When?" Dr. Moore threw her head back in laughter, exposing a beautiful smile, her cheeks and chins quivering with mirth. "Darling, I told you -- you were under anesthesia for four days, and my treatment works quickly. It's already happened."

He tried to protest, but before he could speak another word, the fog seemed to close around him and he drifted into a deep anesthetic sleep. When he dreamed, he dreamed of being fatter than ever.

#feedist fiction #wg fiction #ssbhm feedee #weight gain fiction #deathfeedism #fat feeder #mutual gaining #mutual feeding #wg fic

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