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#this is what makes me break in my new tablet

runningwithscizzorz · 8 days

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(1)Learn the rules before you break them + Gather proper references

(2) Understand what you want to break and how

(3) Can't do it? Find someone who can

(4) It's going to look really bad for a while

(5) Have fun with it!

(1) -Yes, I am that kind of artist. Yet, not in the conventional way. I encourage people to go in guns blazing when it comes to drawing something new, then coming out analyzing what they know, and what they need to learn more of right away.

-Here, I broke down the anatomical pieces of Nour and Narinder's face with the same labels so you guys can understand this weird invisible pattern that I follow in my work. Doing this with any animal you're attempting to draw greatly improves your line confidence when drawing different face shapes. Also understanding the biological function for why animals look a certain way helps you keep consistency.

(3) Time to throw any artistic guilt you have for heavily referencing people's art OUT THE WINDOW and start ANALYZING PEOPLE'S WORK YOU WANT TO BE LIKE✨ I've always done this, having a reference of someone else's amazing work right next to my own drawing so I can try and understand how they make their magic work! No shame, no embarrassment, nada. Pure, unadulterated will and spite that I would be just as good as the artist who made me so motivated and happy with their work! I couldn't figure out how to make Nour's face both sheep-like, and humanly expressive, so I looked at a LOT of Zootopia and old Disney art for help!

(2) With how I draw narilamb, I'm still working on it (as you can see) but I wanted to break Narinder's face to be fluffier and slimmer, while Nour's face would be shorter and flatter. If you look at it for too long, it's absolutely going to look weird, in the way that if you look at Anna from Frozen for too long she starts looking really weird. The anatomy isn't meant to be correct or consistent, it's meant to convey the emotion and energy I want out of the characters in that moment. If you're able to properly get that across, then you don't need to think about how broken something looks, as long as your eye is happy enough to trick your brain into thinking what you're seeing is canny.

(4) Yeah, I hate this part too. It's going to look like shit at first. I can't even look at my art from a few months ago when I was figuring out their designs... God, so fucking ugly. If it weren't for the shittiness of those drawings, I would have never gotten here! Wading through the "trust the process" stage always really sucks, but it's absolutely worth the relief of when you finally get something to look right.

(5) Art is work, yes. It's stressful, it's long, it's straining, its draining, it's exclaiming, blah blah blah. But, I try to keep my art FUN. If I find my artwork becoming slow as I depressingly drag my pen over my tablet, I'm failing. You MUST keep spirit and life in your work. The spirit of emptiness or the life of sadness can have a very meaningful place in art, but those can only exist with keeping work light, easy, and fun! If you're stressing how a specific thing looks or how you can't get something to look right no matter what, FUCK IT. Draw something to bring the flavor back in your work! I'm kind of rambling, but just, HAVE FUN!✨️ Be messy, scream, laugh, slash canvases, throw paint, smash sculptures, tear apart books, GO CRAZY

#liseysart #illustration #cotl fanart #cotl lamb #cotl narilamb #cotl narinder #cotl #cotl art #i really REALLY need to work on how i draw narinder haha!#when i feel stumped #i watch videos that make me laugh to bring my spirit back

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runa-falls · 8 months

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something new

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig

w/c: ~2k

a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix

----

You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.

“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.

You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.

Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!”

“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble.

“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.

His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest.

You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too.

Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.

“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?”

“Y-yes...?”

He hums, turning his whole body to face you.

He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.

“Open up for me, baby.”

Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.

“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.

“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

You whine as you feel him pull away.

“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.

“Gimme a kiss, cariño.”

You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his.

A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."

And the intense mood breaks.

You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.

Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating.

You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.”

Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.

You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.

Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more.

Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.

Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes.

The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.

“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours.

You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.

“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans.

He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.

“Wait.”

His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.

“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.

The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”

You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.”

He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.

He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.

Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you.

Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you.

“No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening.

“What-”

“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.

“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.

You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach.

His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso.

“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.

A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.

You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.

Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.

He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.

It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.

He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.

He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.

He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.

You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .

You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms.

“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.

“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”

He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara

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charliemwrites · 2 months

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Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia boss price #mafia!au #assistant!reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish

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smileysuh · 9 months

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Fix You

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it, if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it, endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton. Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need… I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex with an AI robot, virgin!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, Mingyu's body is perfect, hand job, blow job, deep throating, pussy eating, fingering, flavored cum, praise, breast worship, switchy/submissive!Mingyu, multiple orgasms, slight overstim, AI slavery/working philosophical issues, risk of AI termination/job loss, etc...

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.5k I collab. link

🍭 aus. automaton/ai au, ai!Mingyu, robotics behavioral researcher!y/n, wellness center, future au, Promethean theory, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. i was so excited when @idyllic-ghost announced this collab in @svthub. Had a great time creating this world and working with everyone through the Discord server :) Bee was also such a big help as beta reader, they were such a good collab team leader, so big thank you to @idyllic-ghost 💕

As a top mechanic at an automaton rehab center, you’d heard about the supposed ‘break out’ of thirteen level one AI robots from their management facility. In fact, people all across the galaxy had heard about it, with the attractive faces of every member of the idol group 53V3NT33N plastered on billboards, tvs and any screen possible-

However, the last place you thought you’d see the stunning features of M1NGYU would be on your briefing tablet not two days after what some reporters are calling ‘the biggest breach of level one automatons across the galaxy in centuries.’

“How-” you swallow thickly, eyes shifting from your tablet to look at your boss. “How did he get caught so fast?”

“Mingyu has been malfunctioning for months,” Yoongi explains. “Strength miscalculations during concerts, collaborating in the break out attempt, his aggressive behaviors have been more frequent- but if there’s one thing that can be said for an automaton that balances aggression and admiration, it’s that he truly admires the humans who worship him. He gave himself in, trying to aid in the escape of two of his AI band mates.”

“Oh.” For some reason, this news makes you sad. A robot with a sense of self sacrifice for the good of others… even if giving himself up was in part spurred by a need to be given attention and adoration from the humans that made him.

He’s like a child that makes a mistake and gives himself in. Many mechanics would do what parents across the galaxy do, scold, attempt to fix the behavior with shaming and judgment- but you were given your job precisely because you come at this sort of thing with a different approach. It sounds like Mingyu needs someone to talk to, someone to understand- maybe poke around in his coding a little to see if there’s anything that shouldn’t be there.

You can’t think of someone more qualified than yourself to give Mingyu the time and attention he needs, the admiration he craves to balance out the supposed ‘aggressive’ traits he’s been showing lately.

“Before you get too caught up in Mingyu being some level one lost puppy, just remember, he’s an automaton,” Yoongi’s harsh voice snaps you out of your daze and the rehabilitation plan already brewing in the periphery of your mind. “Don’t get too close to this.”

“I won’t.” If only it was a promise you could keep.

You’ve been around many level ones in your time as a robotics behavioral specialist at the rehab center, but none of them have ever been as beautiful - or as charming - as Mingyu. Sitting next to the intake girl, watching her ask Mingyu questions, you get to fully observe the automaton, and you’re astounded by what you see.

He answers things in a way that almost seems honest, and at points, when he makes a joke that causes you and your coworker to smile, his eyes literally sparkle with admiration. You wonder what coding had to be done just on his robotic retinas to achieve such an effect.

It’s clear, by the time the questions are all through, that Mingyu is the most advanced of any AI’s you’ve ever come in contact with, and the prospect both scares and exhilarates you.

“So what now?” Mingyu asks, and you note the way his knee is bobbing slightly, as if he’s anxious. He’s leaning forward, eager to hear what comes next, and it almost feels like he’s going to be a more than willing participant in this rehab experience.

“Well,” you sigh, taking the tablet from the intake girl, “now that we’ve completed this first form, I can get to work on making a wellness plan for you.”

“A wellness plan?” Mingyu cocks his head, another very human-like motion that makes your breath catch.

“A wellness plan, yes.” You consider how to explain this to him. “You know when humans get tired and they have a spa day? Or after someone has given birth, they have maternity leave? It’s going to be a little something like that. As one of the head behavioral specialists and wellness coordinators here, I’ve been assigned to help you take a break.”

“A break?” He looks as if he’s never even considered having a breather from the activities of a famous level one entertainer robot, and you sort of feel sorry for him.

“Yes, Mingyu, a break. That means no dance practices, no music production and vocal exercises. You’ll be existing here, checking in with me and doing new daily activities designed to help get to the core of the issues you’re facing.”

“And what issues am I facing?” There’s something of a smirk on his face, and you realize the robot is toying with you, but you still feel compelled to respond.

“I heard you threw one of your bandmates too hard during the past few concerts you performed.”

“Dino can take it,” Mingyu insists. “No one got hurt.”

“The guards that were injured while your group broke out of your management facility would beg to differ. Cameras showed you were a big part of busting open doors, knocking a few people unconscious- word in the wellness center is your aggression levels are a little high.”

“No higher than my admiration levels.” There’s that smile again, and you’re not sure what to make of it this time.

“I guess that’s true,” you confess. “You turned yourself in after all.”

“I highly admire the guards that my group members got the better of. We all have bad days, after all, especially humans.”

You wonder at his diction. ‘We all have bad days’ he’d said, before making something of a distinction when he noted ‘especially humans.’ However, in the use of the word ‘we’ without a further separation when mentioning humans, it’s almost as if he’s lumping himself into the same category.

You must be creating too much of a pause in the conversation, because Mingyu opens his mouth to speak again. “You said ‘I can get to work on making a wellness plan for you,’ does that mean you’re the main handler looking after me while I’m here?”

It shouldn’t be a shock that nothing gets past Mingyu, that his recollection of what you’ve said is top notch, but it still takes you back a little. “Correct.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

He’s very peculiar for a level one.

You give him your name and he repeats it once, twice, three times before nodding to himself. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he says. “I’m excited for my wellness break and getting to work with you.”

You’ve often wondered if an emotion like excitement is something an automaton can actually even feel, or if it’s just a number of ones and zeros put into layers upon layers of detailed coding.

For some reason, you find yourself wanting to return the sentiment, however automatic it might be from the robot. “I’m excited to get to work with you too.”

It’s always kind of sad when you run a new level one automaton through their personalized wellness schedule. You’ve worked with all manner of high-class robots, from athletes to opera singers, but none of them have ever come into your program with the type of preexisting regimented day plan Mingyu has.

You suppose it shouldn't be a shock that, as part of one of the biggest automaton boy groups in the galaxy, he’d had close to zero down time. When you show him the library and explain he should sit down in a spot of sun somewhere and read for an hour every day, at a slow pace, he looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help me,” he tells you, as you walk through the facility towards one of your favourite wellness locations; the pool.

“This might be an archaic example,” you explain, “but back when humanity first started making computers, laptops and such, many people would keep their computers on indefinitely. Sure they’d close the screen, but that’s not enough. You’d need to actually power down the device to keep its performance up.”

“I’m not a laptop,” Mingyu reminds you, with a flash of something like humour in his eye.

“You’re not,” you conceded, “which is why your nightly power downs aren’t enough. As an automaton, you were built to emulate being a human, but many people disregard one of the most fundamental aspects of humanity; the need for rest. Sleep and powering down isn’t enough if every waking moment is spent working or learning or practicing your trade- you have to allow for a variety of restful activities, such as reading, painting, gardening- it depends on who you are and your skillset though. For a chef, he might not gain rest from cooking because his neurons would still be firing with the intensity of someone doing their trade. Which is why, although I’ve given you physical activities such as swimming and tennis, you won’t be doing any dancing while you’re here.”

“What if I forget my moves?”

“Something tells me the likelihood of that is very low,” you smile.

“Okay, maybe I won’t forget my moves,” Mingyu sighs, “but I was made to dance. I was made to perform. What am I if not a level one dancer and singer?”

“There’s more to life than one’s job, however all-encompassing being a level one might be,” you explain. “I’m sure it’s very taxing on you.”

Mingyu pauses in the middle of the corridor you’re walking down, and you stop to assess him.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he gives his head a little shake, and you’re shocked again at how human like the automaton is. “It’s just… no one has ever talked about this sort of thing with me. It’s always been work, work, work. It’s what I’m designed to do-”

“You may have been designed to be a dancer and a singer,” you nod empathetically, “but part of being alive is choosing your own destiny, as you and your bandmates all did when you escaped your facility.”

“Do you really think that?” he questions, standing very still and looking at you with a dark gaze. “That I’m alive?”

“At this point in time, artificial intelligence has progressed to the level where we’re told you’re sentient, that you can feel and think. That you’re as life-like as you’ve ever been in the history of the galaxy. You might have been created in a lab, hand crafted and designed by some would-be God engineer, but to me, yes, Mingyu, you’re alive.”

“I don’t bleed,” he says softly. “My skin is similar to yours, made of collagen and human dermal fibroblasts, but beneath all of this I’m still a machine. I don’t have a soul.”

“Is a soul the most important building block that makes something alive?” you ask, cocking your head and looking the robot up and down.

He looks stumped, and you smile at the way you’ve found yourself in a very human-like philosophical debate with an artificial intelligence.

You motion to the monstera deliciosa in a pot along the wall, its large, hybridized purple leaves reaching for the sun that beams through the glass windows. “Would you say that plant over there isn’t alive because it doesn’t have a soul?”

Mingyu is quiet for a moment or two, and then he looks down. “I guess not.”

“So it seems a soul isn’t a necessary element in being ‘alive,’” you conclude, “and besides, scientists are still debating whether or not AI, as it is today, creates its own soul when it’s brought into the world. Even though you were created in the same lab as your band mates, and given different coding at your creation, since then, you’ve all grown differently. Is that not kind of like a human being born with set genes only to be impacted by the world around it?”

Again, Mingyu takes a little while to respond. “I wasn’t given the code for being curious about sciences,” he tells you. “That would be Wonwoo, Minghao and Jeonghan. But, I guess what you’re saying makes sense.”

“Good, it’s my job to make this process make sense to the Level One’s in my care.” You’re pleased at his response, and after another moment, Mingyu begins to follow you again.

“What’s next on the schedule?” he asks.

“The best part of the facility,” you smile, “the pool.”

“What’s so good about the pool?”

“I’ve found that many level ones that come through here have never truly experienced swimming. The sensory differences of the water can be healing for humans and automatons. It will light up all the sensors in your skin, and if you focus on that, you can reach the closest thing to peace that I’ve ever seen an AI experience.”

“How do you measure peace?”

“We’ve done studies with level ones submerged in cold and hot water tanks while connected to neuro maps, the results have been ground breaking in AI science. I’ll have to send you some to read while you’re doing your mandatory reading sessions.”

You reach the doors that slide away to reveal one of the courtyards of the facility. It’s a lovely space, with all sorts of beautiful plants that dazzle with every colour of the rainbow. The ground is mostly white marble aside from the allocated vegetation zones, and a large rectangular pool in the middle of it acts as a meeting place for the few level ones in the center.

“This is one of the best places to meet other robots going through the same process that you are while you’re here,” you explain. “As a central hub, we recommend this as a location to do your reading, we have a yoga room but I could always teach you mind and body wellness out here-”

“I like this place,” Mingyu says, interrupting you for the first time since he’s arrived at the facility.

When you look at him, you find him taking in the space with eyes full of wonder. He looks beautiful, with the sun kissing his beautiful skin, and his dark, medium length curly hair all lit up to show off the soft browns amidst the darker hues.

He truly is the most perfect automaton you’ve ever seen, and you’ve worked with a number of the galaxy’s top rated robots.

One of these top rated AI’s, is Jeong Jaehyun, a member of another boy group who’s been having difficulties. He’d come in presenting with extreme competitive behaviors, but in the two weeks you’ve been monitoring him, he’s calmed down a great deal. You think, as you and Mingyu approach the pool where Jaehyun is doing laps, that this might be a good opportunity to introduce another robot to him.

Jaehyun’s met a number of other automatons in the facility, but none as close to his own profession as Mingyu.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” you tell Mingyu, coming to a stop on the edge of the pool. Your eyes track Jaehyun as he swims towards you, doing a near perfect front stroke style that he’d never even heard of before his own wellness break.

When Jaehyun reaches the edge of the pool, he stops and looks up at you, then his gaze shifts to Mingyu. Both robots have blank expressions, but when they nod to each other, there’s something akin to recognition in the behavior.

“Hello, Jaehyun,” you greet the swimmer. “This is Mingyu, he’ll be here at the facility with us for a while.”

“We know of each other,” Jaehyun tells you curtly. “At award shows.”

“Eight times,” Mingyu confirms.

“Perfect,” you should have remembered as much, but you’ve been very occupied pouring over Mingyu’s history file as of late. “Mingyu will be starting his pool wellness treatment tomorrow afternoon. How would you feel about showing him the four main swimming strokes?”

Jaehyun nods. “I can do that.”

“That’s great news, thank you Jaehyun.” The automaton only nods to you before diving back into the water. You’ll never get used to the way robots can swim without goggles, and your own eyes sting a little at the thought.

“What’s he here for?” Mingyu asks quietly.

“I thought you weren’t given the coding to be curious about sciences,” you quirk a brow, fighting a smile.

“It’s not a curiosity about science,” Mingyu insists. “Jaehyun has been one of the top AI models for Prada Universal for years.”

“I see,” you nod, “so you’re wondering if you can steal his contract if you make it out of here before him.”

“No, I-”

“It was a joke, Mingyu,” you tell him, reminding yourself that not all AI have the capacity to understand human humour, although they seem perfectly able to make their own.

What your manager had said rings through your mind, as it does every day, ‘don’t get too close to this.’ It’s a fine line to walk. Your job is to treat them like humans, to give them the care and wellness that the filthy rich can afford, but at the same time, you need to keep a distance, to remember, always, what you’re dealing with.

It’s days like this one where you wonder - even with all your training and ground breaking research - if you’re truly right for this job. Questioning ethics and philosophies of protocol aren’t behaviors you want to get used to any time soon.

Mingyu and Jaehyun have been swimming for an hour or so when Mingyu finally gets the courage to speak up. He’s run the scenario a number of times, without a successful hypothesis to calm his mind, and he figures if anyone will know the answer to his wonderings, it’s Jaehyun. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh huh,” Jaehyun is leaning against the wall of the pool. His eyes are closed and he looks to be enjoying the sunlight.

Mingyu can feel the heat of the hot star on his own skin, but he’s still getting used to the feeling of the water, so he’s unable to enjoy it the way Jaehyun can yet.

“Y/N said she’d be showing me around and doing activities with me, but she’s not here right now,” Mingyu explains, looking over at Jimin, the young male wellness instructor who’d picked him up to head to the pool earlier. “Why isn’t she here?”

“Lower level wellness coaches watch us when we’re doing less strenuous activities,” Jaehyun responds.

This eases Mingyu’s perceived anxieties, but what Jaehyun says next doesn’t.

“Although, my first week here, Y/N was at my side almost all the time. So, I guess today, Y/N ditched you because I said I’d teach you strokes.”

Mingyu hates feeling ditched, hates that Jaehyun has voiced the feeling of it. An inkling of aggressive tendencies flashes through Mingyu’s body, and he does his best to focus on the sun, squinting up at it as a way to calm himself, as you’d told him to try when he’d first arrived as an antiaggression tactic.

He’s not quite sure how to respond to Jaehyun’s statement, so instead, he goes for another question that’s been on his mind since yesterday. “What are you here for?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, as far as I can tell, you don’t seem to have any malfunctions.”

“I could say the same about you,” Jaehyun notes. “That is, if I hadn’t heard about your group’s escape from your management facility.”

Mingyu looks down at the way the sunlight refracts off the water, the marbling effect of the rays casting shadows across the bottom of the pool. “I get aggressive sometimes,” he says quietly.

It’s hard admitting the faulty coding in his metal head, and he supposes he should show his own if he expects Jaehyun to return the favour.

The other automaton in the pool nods, running a hand through his wet hair. “I get competitive sometimes.”

“Really?” This is news to Mingyu, whose only experience of Jaehyun’s behavior today has been helpful and willing to teach. “I guess you’re doing well here, I wouldn’t have noticed any competitive traits in you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jaehyun looks up, and his eyes seem to be tracking something over Mingyu’s shoulder, “it depends on who’s watching.”

Mingyu guesses he can understand that, especially when he follows Jaehyun’s gaze to find you walking across the courtyard.

Something clicks inside of him, the same thing that had darkened Jaehyun’s gaze, and Mingyu immediately feels a surge of what some might call endorphins- or perhaps even testosterone.

“Show time,” Jaehyun says quietly, and Mingyu knows exactly what he means.

You stop to talk to the man who’s been keeping track of the two automatons in the pool, and then you head over yourself. There’s a smile on your face, and it makes Mingyu’s mechanical throat feel dry.

“Look at you two getting along,” you say, putting your hands on your hips as you gaze down at them. “Jimin said you guys have been mastering the strokes, care to show me?”

Mingyu is more than eager to show you what he’s learned, but when Jaehyun takes off at a speed he’s not yet shown, Mingyu almost feels blind sided.

There’s a rush of feelings, as Mingyu swims off after his new robotic ‘friend.’ Admiration for Jaehyun’s competitive nature kicking in, even if it’s supposedly a downside, and a white hot need to better the other automaton and prove himself to you.

Luckily for Mingyu, he’s been built much bigger than his leaner friend, and the extra muscle robotics in his arms make it almost too easy to catch up with Jaehyun.

Mingyu knows that this isn’t a competition, and yet, it is.

If there’s one thing Mingyu knows how to do, it’s succeed. Winning is in his nature, it’s built into his very code, and when the two reach the other end of the pool with Mingyu ahead, it only proves to kick Jaehyun into a higher gear.

They take off toward you again, and Mingyu pushes himself. He can feel the strain in his joints, the rush of water smoothing over his artificial skin. You were right about the healing properties of the pool, and nothing makes Mingyu feel more alive and himself than a little friendly competition with a fellow robot whom he admires, even if that competition is fueled by some of Mingyu’s more… less desirable driving traits.

Mingyu beats Jaehyun again as they reach your side of the pool, and when he looks up at you for praise, he sees you have your tablet out. You seem to be jotting down a few notes, about him or Jaehyun, he’s not too sure.

“You guys are fast,” you say finally. “Jaehyun, thank you for spending some time with Mingyu today.”

“No problem.” Jaehyun is already pulling himself up and out of the pool, perfect muscles flexing in the sunshine.

Mingyu rushes to follow, feeling the need to show off his own immaculate body to you-

“Mingyu,” you address him next, and it feels glorious to have your eyes on him, although they stay fixed on his face, “I see you haven’t been to the library yet, might I suggest that’s next on your wellness schedule today?”

“You won’t be joining me?” Mingyu can feel his metallic heart practically sink.

“Unfortunately not, I’ve got a meeting with my boss, but Jimin will go with you to find something to read.” You motion to the wellness worker still standing a few meters behind you, and he offers Mingyu a small wave that kind of makes him annoyed. ��Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu forces himself to say. “That’s okay.”

“But I’ve got you in my schedule for tennis tomorrow morning, so I’ll see you then.”

Another nod of affirmation and then Mingyu’s watching you hurry off.

Jaehyun’s drying his body with a towel next to Mingyu, and there’s a small smile on his face, as if he’s enjoying Mingyu being ‘ditched’ yet again.

Mingyu realizes maybe Jaehyun really isn’t doing as well with his recovery as he’d thought only a few minutes ago.

Maybe he’s not doing so well either.

“I’ve got some bad news to report,” you say, as you take a seat in your boss's office, tablet in hand.

“Let’s hear it,” Yoongi sighs, kicking his feet up onto his table and leaning back in his chair.

“I thought Jaehyun’s rehabilitation was going well, so I set him up to swim with Mingyu today-”

“What? Why?”

“I wanted to see, in a controlled environment, how Jaehyun would react around other level ones he might perceive to be a threat. Seeing Jaehyun’s recovery alone is like testing in a vacuum, it doesn’t account for outside forces at play,” you explain. “Anyways, I was correct. When introduced to a situation where he could compete with someone on his level, Jaehyun’s competitive nature was back up again.”

“Did anything bad happen?” Yoongi takes his feet off his table, leaning forward now with interest.

The last time Jaehyun had gotten very competitive, it had ended up with him attacking one of his group members and landing himself back in your rehab center. The Kim Doyoung automaton had needed an hour of mechanical work to get his skin back to perfect after being sucker punched numerous times.

“I’m pleased to report there was no physical violence,” you admit. “Although, I will say, if he had tried something, I believe Mingyu would have been able to defend himself, unlike Doyoung.”

“Look at you,” Yoongi’s gaze shifts up and down your form, “taking bets on level one robots. You do know that street fighting automatons is illegal in most parts of the galaxy, right?”

“It wasn’t a street fight,” you assure your boss. “It was a simple test.”

“Right, you and your hypotheses.” Yoongi is a good boss. He supports your work and research, but sometimes you think he’s happy with things being the way they are. As if humanity has discovered everything possible, with no room for improvement.

“I’ll look some more into Jaehyun’s coding,” you continue. “I think there must be a line or two of something I missed last time, maybe level one specific competitive traits that should only be used on stage competitions that are bleeding over into everyday automaton life-”

“Good idea, you have permission.”

“But I was also thinking maybe I should look into Mingyu’s code-”

“No.”

“No?” you hold your tablet close to your chest, lips parting as you stare at your boss.

“Mingyu’s a more recent build than Jaehyun. I’ve been assured by his production team that this isn’t a coding issue, it’s a behavioral one. Something he and his other members picked up since the time of their creation.”

“But-”

“We’ve been advised to not look at the code,” Yoongi says harshly. “You were hired because of your groundbreaking work with behavioral changes to AI, the way you connect it to human behavioral issues. You’re the one that keeps trying to convince me that these robots are as human as they’ve ever been, so stop treating Mingyu like a wrong coded robot, and start showing me you can fix him without getting coding involved.”

“Are you sure they said his coding was all up to date?” you press, knowing you might get in trouble for even continuing with this line of questioning.

Yoongi sighs. “Positive. No messing around with Mingyu’s code. There’s a behavioral reason for the aggression, and you’re just going to have to figure it out.”

You’ve always liked tennis, for more than just the physical reasons. It allows you to test an automaton's ability to read the situation, their drive to adjust to the bodily limitations of the human playing with them.

While you start the easy game with Mingyu at a higher level, allowing him to show off his skills and inherent robotic strength, thirty minutes into the sport, you begin to dwindle in energy.

“I need a water break,” you tell him, passing the ball over to the robot to play with while you go to grab your bottle.

Mingyu waits patiently, tossing the ball up in the air. You see how many touches he can make without stopping, and you’re not too shocked at his ability to keep a steady volley with himself.

When you set your water down, his attention is back on you, and he reminds you of an eager puppy in his excitement to once more have a game partner.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you assure him with a wave of your hand, steadying your grip on the handle of your racket. “Just a little tired.”

When Mingyu passes you the ball, he’s noticeably gentler than before, and you note that his adaptability is quite good. He’s very focused on you, much more than other automatons like Jaehyun had been when you’d first tried the sport with them.

It’s different from the competitive - maybe even aggressive - way that he’d interacted with Jaehyun in the pool yesterday.

An easy hypothesis to make would be that Mingyu’s abilities adjust depending on who he’s with, so it should be no shock that he’d work harder with a fellow automaton. However, you’re not sure if that’s all there is to it.

You wonder what drives Mingyu. If he’s even aware of the way he’s lessened the force in his hits.

Remembering what he’d said about tossing a band member around, the way he’d noted ‘Dino can take it,’ you think it’s very possible that Mingyu is reading your abilities. The same way you’re reading his.

Before you can consider the situation more, however, you notice Jimin has arrived on the side of the court, and he waves you over.

“One moment, Mingyu,” you call, tossing him the ball once more before jogging over to your coworker.

“There was an incident,” Jimin explains, “with Jaehyun.”

“An incident?”

Jimin nods. “He was racing a new level one in the pool.”

“Really?” Jaehyun’s been in the pool a number of times with other automatons, but other than what you’d witnessed yesterday, his competitive nature hasn’t truly shown itself, at least, not in a way that was overtly noticeable.

“There was some gloating involved,” Jimin continues, eyes shifting over your shoulder to where Mingyu is playing with the ball. “A few punches were thrown.”

Now you’re really alarmed.

You haven't had time yet to look into Jaehyun’s coding, and you’ve been trying to focus on Mingyu as he’s newer to your program, but maybe this had been an oversight on your part.

“I’ll come right away,” you nod, turning your attention back to Mingyu. “I’m sorry about this, but I’ve got to go.”

“What?” Mingyu stops playing with his ball.

“There’s been an incident-”

“Can’t someone else take care of it?”

This is the second time Mingyu’s interrupted you, and this time, it’s over a moment of contention. “Unfortunately no,” you tell him, “I’m the only one that can deal with this, Jaehyun’s under my care.”

“But…” Mingyu looks down at the ball in his hand, “we’re still playing tennis.”

“Jimin can play with you.”

“I don’t want Jimin.” The automaton is staring you down, and it takes a second for you to process his words, as your gaze keeps shifting to his hardening grip on the handle of his racket.

“I’m really sorry, Mingyu-”

“Please?” He pouts out his lower lip, a very childlike attempt at persuading you.

“I have to go,” you say, more firmly this time.

There’s a stagnant moment of silence, and then, in one quick, rough motion, Mingyu breaks his racket on the court.

“I don’t want to do tennis anymore,” he insists.

“Then I might suggest going to the library for a book.” You hate having to be detached with him like this, as it’s obvious he has needs that must be attended to- but his aggression towards an inanimate object like a racket isn’t the same level as Jaehyun’s aggression towards another patient at your facility.

You see Mingyu’s chest expand and then he seems to let out a deep exhale, it’s a motion that screams ‘annoyance,’ yet another emotion that could just be ones and zeros in his coding.

You decide, as you watch the odd automaton have a tantrum on the court, that you have no choice but to take a look under his hood. You’ll have to dive deeper if you’re going to figure him out, Yoongi be damned.

“I’m sorry, Mingyu,” you say again. “I’ll try to rejoin you as soon as I can, but for now, you’ll have to enjoy Jimin’s company.”

Mingyu doesn’t respond, and it feels like a deliberate snubbing, of both you and Jimin.

It’s been a long day, and you really need to sleep, but this is the best chance you’ll have to get a peak into Mingyu’s inner workings.

With the facility in off hours, and all the level ones set to sleep cycle, it’s easy for you to sneak into Mingyu’s room with your trusty tablet. Cameras are simple to wipe with the clearance you have, and you have no doubt that once you connect to Mingyu’s brain drive and get the data to your tablet, it will prove as good bedtime reading.

You’re in and out of his room in under five minutes, scurrying back to your own quarters like a thief in the night.

Once you’re all tucked into bed, you pull out your tablet and begin to sift through the coding that makes Mingyu tick.

People new to your field might feel overwhelmed by the amount of data, but you know exactly where to look, and soon, you’re staring at a few lines of base code that feel familiar.

You’ve seen coding like this before, in your textbooks when you went to robotics school. Just to be sure you’re correct in what you’re seeing, you pull up a document pertaining to sex bots.

An early form of automaton, sex bots had been created with one purpose, to serve their master, in any and all capacities. Long since discontinued due to their bugs, and a tendency to imprint on human masters, causing ‘erratic behavior,’ you know you’ve found exactly what’s wrong with Mingyu.

But it doesn’t make sense. Mingyu is a new model. He’s not a banned robot from well over seventy years ago-

The aggressive behaviors associated with sex bots are the reason their coding was banned, the reason engineers started again and adapted the algorithms- and yet, here you are, staring at lines of code that account for all of Mingyu’s behaviors.

Closing your tablet, you reach for your glass of water, sitting in the shock of it all.

Things begin to add up in your brain; the way Mingyu had become more aggressive with Jaehyun yesterday in the pool when you’d arrived, even though Jimin had told you the two had been doing just fine together, the way Mingyu had reacted today when you’d left him to deal with Jaehyun.

This is a whole new take on behavioral issues, one you’ve never accounted for-

Does Mingyu have… a crush on you? Has his outdated sex bot coding allowed him to imprint on you?

How many other bots have this coding, hidden amongst the innumerable layers of intensely organized lines of personality traits-

This changes everything, and above all, it changes how you should approach the automaton.

How can you utilize this new knowledge to best aid him in recovery? Is it better to assign someone else to him? Would that make the aggression worse? What unforeseen behaviors might arise if you were to separate yourself from him? What changes - for the better - might come out of this if you try to be softer with him, if you play into this ‘crush’?

Your head feels very full, but you suppose it could be worse, it could be full of bad coding.

Poor Mingyu.

You know you’re probably breaking rules, but to be fair, when you’d accepted your position in the wellness center, there hadn’t been a chapter in the manual about how to deal with approaching sex bots. This feels like new territory, or perhaps, old territory, outdated territory, territory from a time when the lines between humanity and their automaton creation had been much more blurred.

Sure, there are sex bots in circulation today, but they’re all using new and improved code. They’re not disguised as level ones, but properly classified as a level three automaton. Level three’s are much more obviously robotic, and there are whole sections of cities on certain worlds with thriving sex bot industries- the type of bots with newer coding that don’t allow them to imprint or feel the lines of ones and zeros that some might call love.

You’ve never met a sex bot before, your work has always been directed toward the highly professional level one automatons. Because of this, your new plan of attack is entirely based on essays and readings you’ve done regarding the old form of bugged sex bots who had been responsible for an entire chapter of dark human history where man’s own creation had turned against him.

As you read through essays related to the sex bot bug, you find you hadn’t realized how deep the bug had gone. You’d heard about human masters being kidnapped or stalked by their sex bots, but you’d never thought the epidemic was as bad as you’re now reading it had been.

These cases of bad outcomes are in the periphery of your mind as you begin your day working with Mingyu. You’re sure there must be a fine line you’re walking, a line between bringing out the good aspects of the bad coding - the type of responses that will make Mingyu eager to get better - and the worst case scenarios.

However, as aggressive as Mingyu has gotten so far, you’ve noted that most of his aggressive responses come out against inanimate objects and other automatons. You’re hoping these behaviors don’t progress to him acting out against any humans, least of all you.

It’s like you’re seeing Mingyu in a new light. It’s interesting how even a few shifts in your own behavior can bring out the best in him. Instead of simply watching him in the pool, you decide to join him, giving him your full attention as you swim three feet apart up and down the length of the tank.

“How are you feeling today?” you ask.

“How am I feeling?” Mingyu looks at you sideways, keeping pace with your much smaller breast strokes.

“Yeah, how are you feeling?” you repeat the question. “You can answer it in any way you like.”

Mingyu seems to think on it for a moment. “I feel the water is twenty-seven degrees Celsius.”

“Okay,” you laugh. “How about the sun? How’s it feeling on your skin sensors?”

“Thirty-three point five degrees, but when a cloud comes, it drops two degrees.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but when you were working before coming to the center, you didn’t get that much of a chance to be outside, how does it feel to be able to enjoy life’s simple pleasures like the sun and water?”

His response is immediate; “Good.” He looks forward, and you take a moment to appreciate the way the sun lights up the hues in his hair. “Really good.”

“Maybe even freeing?” you suggest.

He casts a sideways look at you again, and you see a small quirk of his mouth, something like a smile. “Yes, freeing.”

“When you and your other members escaped from your facility, the feeling of being free is what many of you were searching for, right?”

“For most of them.”

“But not you?” you question. “Out of everyone who escaped, you were one of the only ones who purposefully allowed himself to be recaptured. Do you want to talk about that?”

You reach the edge of the pool and you stop, holding onto the tiled wall and turning your body to look at Mingyu.

His eyes are fixed on the pool floor, and you realize he’s watching the shadows caused by the refraction of light in the water.

“A few others were convinced there was more to life than just performing our jobs every day,” Mingyu explains.

“But you like your job.”

“I did,” he traces his hand along the top of the water. “I do. But… I didn’t know how good it could feel to just exist.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, and then you find yourself reaching out to gently squeeze his arm. “I’m glad you’re feeling it now.”

Mingyu looks at your hand on his forearm, and his eyes meet your own. He’s quiet, so you retract your touch, grabbing at the tiled wall again. “We’ve been here for almost an hour. How do you feel about drying off and meeting in the library to find a book to read?”

“I already have a book.”

“Yeah, Jimin told me that you got a book about human psychology. I thought you said you weren’t interested in sciences?”

“You’re making me interested,” Mingyu states, looking at you with an intensity in his gaze that almost makes you breathless. “I want to get better. I thought maybe doing some more reading on behavioral sciences could help.”

“I admire your drive, Mingyu, I really do,” you nod, “but, remember, this is a wellness break for you. I think it would be beneficial to get a fiction book, something that doesn’t require you to always be learning and bettering yourself. It can be exhausting if you’re always in that state, as you’ve seen, it’s important to do things for… let’s say, the intrinsic value.”

“The intrinsic value,” Mingyu repeats. “Okay.”

You pull yourself out of the pool, and after a moment, Mingyu follows.

It’s difficult for you not to look at his perfectly sculpted form, and you swallow a lump in your throat, reaching for a towel on a nearby sunlounger. Your tablet is there too, and you grab that next, checking the time.

“How about we meet at the library entrance in ten minutes?” you suggest. “We should both head to our rooms for new clothes, can’t have water drops in the library.”

Mingyu is quick to agree, as he often is with you, and a moment later you’re parting ways. He heads to the recovery wing of the center while you go to the workers living quarters.

You get changed in record time, and soon you’re approaching the library, where Mingyu is already waiting for you. He’s got a book in his hands, and the all white wellness outfit he’s wearing sets off the pretty colour of his skin and hair. When his eyes shift to yours, you see that even his iris’s look alight with lovely hues-

You mentally chastise yourself for being as attracted to him as you are, and when you speak, you’re thankful your tone is level. “Is that the book you’re reading?” you ask, motioning to the paperback in his hands.

As much as technology has overtaken the galaxy, here at the wellness center, there’s still an importance placed on the old ways. There’s something healing about having a book in your hands, testing the weight and the feeling of parchment pages against your finger tips-

Books are yet another thing that make humans human, as they were instrumental in the development of your species. You’re proud to work at a location that holds a large quantity of books, saved from many generations.

Mingyu shows you the book title, and you realize it’s one you’ve read before. “Oh, I know that one.��

“Jimin said the author was one of your professors in school,” Mingyu nods.

“He did, did he?” You pause for a moment. “Did you ask him about me, Mingyu?”

The automaton looks down at the cover of the book in his hands, and he takes a few seconds before he responds. “I wanted to see the base algorithms in the way you think as a behavioral robotics specialist.”

“The base algorithms-”

“This book, this professor, she helped create the building blocks for you to become who you are now. Your approach is based on her works, I can tell.”

He’s very astute, especially for an AI who’d claimed to not have an interest in science.

You think about how his own base algorithm - that of a hybridized sex bot - has created building blocks for who he is now. The good (his sweet behaviors), the bad (his aggressive behaviors) and the ugly (the fact that at any time, the ticking time bomb sex bot could turn potentially deadly).

“Let's go find you a new book,” you say with a smile.

“Can I keep reading this one?” Mingyu asks, falling into step next to you.

“I suppose so,” you sigh, “but only if you also do an hour of fiction reading. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mingyu nods.

You begin to walk through the shelves, and you realize there’s one fiction book that might capture Mingyu’s attention, especially if he’s interested in getting to know you better. “I want to show you a novel that changed my life.”

“Yes, please.”

Heading to the science fiction section, you find one of the older books in your library. “It’s called Frankenstein,” you explain, gently taking out the paperback and holding it in your hands. “It’s about a scientist who creates a sapient monster creature. It has parallels to when humanity created our first automatons,” as you say it out loud, you realize how true this is, especially considering the bugs of the first sex AI’s. “You’ve talked a bit of philosophy with me, and I think you’d like this one.”

You hold the book out to Mingyu, and he takes it softly into his hands. He flips it over, scanning the back summary. “Okay,” he nods, “I’ll read it.”

“Perfect,” you can’t explain why you get a surge of happiness when he agrees without a question, and you find yourself reaching out to gently touch his arm again, fingers ghosting past his skin-

Mingyu’s eyes immediately dart down to your hand, and then he’s looking up at you with an expression that has darkened. “This is the second time you’ve touched me today,” he states.

“Oh,” you pull your fingers away, even taking a step back from the automaton whose countenance has changed so much in a split second. “I’m sorry, Mingyu, I-”

“I don’t like these games you’re playing,” he continues.

“Games?”

“I know I’m a robot, but I still feel real. I feel more real here than I ever have before.”

“That’s good-”

“Listen,” he commands, stepping closer to you. “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton.”

You stare at Mingyu, lips parted in shock.

“Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need.” He pauses, looking down at you. “I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.”

“Mingyu-”

“Don’t try to argue,” Mingyu shakes his head. “I feel it in your heart rate, picking up when I’m near. I hear it in your erratic breaths, the way they catch when I’m close. I see it in your pupil dilation when you look at me.”

You can’t believe he’s noticed all these little things, things you hadn’t even necessarily noticed in yourself.

When he speaks next, his aggression has visibly died down, and the soft manner of being returns to the robot you’ve known only a short time. “I know you love me, even if it’s still growing. It’s a kind of love that I’ll never experience from another automaton, and it’s the reason I’ll get better.”

“But Mingyu-” you shake your head, “what if you can’t? What if the bug in your base code runs so deep I can’t fix it?”

“The bug in my code?”

You swallow thickly, fighting with yourself over whether or not you should even tell him what you’re about to disclose- but you think there’s no way around it.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but, your erratic behavior- it comes from sex bot coding. There’s only a few lines of it, but it’s enough to make a difference.”

“Sex bot coding,” Mingyu repeats.

“From what I understand, I think it was put into you to make you eager for human attention, to make you as life-like as possible in mood and temperament- but, there are downsides to that code, your heightened aggression is one of them.”

“And my heightened admiration too?” he suggests.

You nod. “There were many cases of sex bots ‘falling in love’ with their masters. Many people got hurt.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Mingyu,” you sigh, “that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is that we can’t do this. You have a group to get back to when this is all over-”

“I don’t belong with them,” Mingyu insists. “I belong with you. Someone real. Someone willing to look deep in my base code to find what’s wrong with me, someone with the skills to fix it. Someone whose pupils truly dilate, so I know what you’re feeling is real.”

For a moment, you’re reminded of old pre AI experiments where baby monkeys were given real and robot mothers. Those babies placed with the robots had behavioral problems, no matter how life-like the scientists attempted to make the mechanical mothers, they still paled in comparison to the real thing.

Mingyu sees himself as real, like one of those baby monkeys, and now that he’s had a taste of you, it feels as if he might not ever be able to go back to the other robots.

“I can be sure with you,” Mingyu says again, reaching out-

You flinch, but you don’t shy away from his touch, and Mingyu’s fingers skim by your face, his thumb brushing your cheek bone.

His skin is warm, and for a moment, you allow yourself to lean in to his touch, closing your eyes-

He feels so real. More real than any automaton you’ve ever worked with.

“You can’t stay here forever,” you insist, pulling away from his touch.

“My group is never going to be recaptured,” Mingyu’s hand drops to his side. “Some would rather die than go back. If there’s nothing to go back to, shouldn’t I be able to choose what happens to me now? Aren’t you the one who said ‘part of being alive is choosing your own destiny.’”

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to choose me-”

“What if you are my destiny?” Mingyu counters. “Out of all the possible places I could have gone to, all the wellness centers in the galaxy, I was brought here. Out of all your coworkers, with their own tactics, I was given to you. Out of everyone I’ve ever met, you’re the only person who’s really tried to understand me, to help me be free.” His eyes search your own, and he almost looks desperate. “What’s the point in all this healing if I just go back to the bad place. It would have been kinder to never try to help me at all if you’re just going to send me back.”

Your heart aches for him.

You feel as if you’ve learned more about automatons in the past ten minutes than you had in all your years in school.

“Can I…” Mingyu’s gaze drops to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

The question snaps you out of your shocked daze, and you’re quick to shake your head. No matter how much you might wish he could kiss you, that he could cup your face again with one of his large hands and make you forget the world- you’re still at work.

“We can’t,” you tell him. “Not here. Not now.”

Mingyu frowns.

“I need to talk to my boss about all of this,” you say, stepping backward and casting your eyes to the ground. You can’t focus while looking at Mingyu.

“What if they terminate me for this?”

Your gaze snaps up again, and you’re quick to shake your head. “I won’t let that happen,” you tell him. “I promise- I’d never let that happen, not to you.”

Mingyu stares at you for a few moments, and then he smiles. “I knew you cared about me too.”

“I told you not to get too close to this,” Yoongi sighs, leaning forward on his desk with his head in his hands.

“Fine,” you concede. “You told me so. You told me so, and I didn’t listen. But, as much as I know that I went against numerous things you told me not to do, I’m glad I did, because if there’s one thing I owe to those in my care, it’s to do my job fully.”

“I don’t see how making a robot think he’s in love with you is part of doing your job.”

“I didn’t-” you bite your tongue. “I didn’t purposely go into this trying to lead Mingyu on-”

“Sure you didn’t.” Yoongi doesn’t seem convinced.

“Look,” you sit down in the chair in front of him, the hot seat, and you know that what you’re about to say is a risk. You could even lose your career over this, but, if you don’t speak up now, you’ll lose your integrity and you know it. “Mingyu is different-”

“He’s a robot.”

“Please,” you frown, “listen to me. I’ve been doing this job for a few years and I’ve never met someone like Mingyu. He’s unique, I knew that from the moment he started talking philosophy with me. I’ve learned more about AI in the past twenty-four hours than I have in maybe my whole life-”

Yoongi says nothing.

“I know you told me not to look into his coding-”

“You didn’t,” Yoongi groans.

“Things just weren’t adding up!” you insist, looking at your boss with a heavy heart. “Did… did you know that he has sex bot base code? Is that why you told me not to look too deeply into him?”

Yoongi puts his head in his hands. When he meets your eyes again, he’s frowning. “Sex bot code? In a new model like Mingyu?”

At least your boss hasn’t been completely compliant with whatever bullshit is coming out of Mingyu’s management office.

“Sex bot code,” you repeat, nodding firmly. “I triple-checked it. There’s just a few lines, easily missable, but it accounts for the bad behaviors. Especially once I talked more with Mingyu and realized he sees affection from his fanbase as love. It would make sense he’d get aggressive with other members in his group if he perceived them as earning more than him-”

“You know why sex bots were banned. You know about the dangers-”

“I do. I also know there are laws against it, which is why his management probably opted for a behavioral specialist with rules not to look deeply into the coding. They hoped I could fix this without ever finding out that what they’ve been creating is illegal- but how many more robots that come through here might have the same code?” You have no clue how deep this conspiracy might run. “Just think about it, how do you make a level one celebrity robot as life like as possible? You give it some of the characteristics of humans that are our deepest downfalls, jealousy, aggression, restlessness, a need to perform- a need to do well for the humans that pay their companies whole fortunes-”

“Any well-coded robot can have what looks like jealousy, aggression and other typically bad human traits,” Yoongi points out.

“Yeah, but this is that on steroids. Automatons used to kill humans in the name of their beloved master, for any perceived infraction.”

“So you’re saying Mingyu is dangerous.”

Your lips part in shock. “I’m saying, he has the capacity for it, as much as any human.”

“This is bad.”

“It is, but with the right treatment- Mingyu wants to get better, I know he does.”

“And how do you suggest you accomplish that?”

“We let him be free. We make sure he doesn’t go back to extreme schedules, to a dark management facility with handlers who only care about money. We make sure he doesn’t go back to all the things that would drive any human insane.”

“He’s not human, don’t forget that,” Yoongi warns you. “And we don’t get to decide if he goes back. He has a job-”

“His members might not ever be recaptured,” you point out. “Mingyu says some would rather die than go back- is that not proof enough that their treatment isn’t humane?”

“Again, we’re talking about a robot.”

“AI are sentient!” you insist. “You should know that better than almost anyone. Are you really going to sit here and tell me that even after all this time, you still see automatons as simple machines that we can do what we want with?” Yoongi is quiet so you continue. “Mingyu’s base code might be archaic, but maybe our treatment of robots is too.”

“Look, this isn’t up for debate. You’re talking about fighting galaxy law-”

“I’m talking about having a job where we deal with broken AI but never fix the real problem. I’m talking about freedom being the thing that truly helps AI. I’m talking about humanity being the bug in every robot’s misdeeds-”

“This is bordering on conspiracy theory.”

“We’re way past conspiracy,” you tell him. “Please, freedom is the only thing we’ve never tried as a long term solution to automatons that are having trouble. As much as we do our best to fix them, we always throw them right back into their jobs, into the thing that breaks them in the first place and then they end up back here.”

“Mingyu was built to be exactly where he is now.”

“Well maybe we shouldn’t be creating sentient lives just to throw them into slave-like jobs and threaten destruction if they don’t adhere to their company’s insanely high standards.”

Yoongi holds your gaze but he says nothing, mouth set in a firm line.

“Look, if there was ever a time to test this theory, it would be with Mingyu. I’m a hundred percent positive that his group will never be whole again. If we try this, and it works, if Mingyu’s aggression goes back to a normal level, if he shows everyone that there can be a happy medium when working with robots- it could change everything.”

There’s another stagnant silence and you wait for your boss to chastise you, for him to even fire you-

“You know what,” Yoongi sighs, “I’m not going to argue with you over this any more. I don’t make the decision, his management does. If you want to call them, and explain what you’ve just explained to me, you can do that. But this is your shitstorm, and I don’t want to be part of it.”

“So… so you’re saying I can go forward with this treatment plan?”

“You can, but, I can’t protect you from any consequences of your actions. And I hope you know that once you do this, once you admit to going against their rule to not to look into his coding, there’s no going back.”

Mingyu can feel his aggression levels rising the moment Jimin shows up at the tennis court instead of you, but he focuses on the self-soothing tactics you’d shown him in his entry to wellness booklet. His grip on his racket tightens, but not enough to break it, and he tries to keep a level tone when he asks, “Where’s y/n?”

“She’s in a meeting,” Jimin says dismissively.

“With who?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

Mingyu stares at Jimin for a few seconds. “I want to speak to your manager.”

Jimin makes an amused face. “I didn’t realize they taught you KAREN code in robotics labs. Aren’t you supposed to be a level one?”

Mingyu doesn’t have time for digs about him being a bitchy woman from over a hundred years ago, and he certainly doesn’t have time to play tennis if you’re somewhere talking to your boss about him, somewhere risking your job and his life-

“If you really must know, she’s on a conference call with your management, discussing your treatment plan.”

Mingyu supposes if there’s one thing he should admire about Jimin, it’s his loose lips. “Is she in her quarters?”

“Now that’s really not your concern.”

For a split second, Mingyu considers breaking his racket, but instead, he simply sets it on the ground before turning to take off in the direction of your room.

He’s never been to your private space, or even in the worker’s wing, but two days ago, you’d mentioned that you have a corner room, one that overlooks the northwest skies, where you can see the sunset and the moons-

He’d also seen a map of the facility, on numerous fire escape screens, and it’s a quick deduction to figure out where you should be.

He can’t afford to be wrong about this, and for the first time in his life, Mingyu finds himself praying to the human God that he’s able to get to you. To help you in your bid to protect him from his own masters.

Mingyu is running through the facility, but no one tries to stop him, and he’s glad that the wellness center doesn’t have the same armed guards that he’d been accustomed to for most of his life. There are no true handlers here, and it almost feels like freedom for the automaton.

He’s chasing after you, after his destiny-

With beyond human ear sensors, Mingyu is able to hear your voice as he rounds the hall that should lead him to your room, and by the time he’s stopped in front of your door, he knows he’s in the right place.

He also knows that you’re being shot down by his management, and he can hear the ceo, a Mr. Han, chastizing you for looking into Mingyu’s code.

Mingyu wants to barge in, but he finds the control in himself to knock. He hears you apologize profusely, the shrill sound of your chair being dragged across the floor, then footfalls-

Your door opens and Mingyu looks down at you, relief flooding his system.

“Mingyu-”

“I need to be here for this,” he insists. “This can’t be decided without me.”

Your lips part as if to protest, but then you shut them, and you hold the door open wider for the robot to enter the space.

A large screen on your wall shows that not only is Mr. Han present, but many of the other ceo’s and managers from Mingyu’s entertainment company. These are the men and women who have dominion over him, the men and women that could terminate him with one phone call-

His entire life is riding on this moment, and Mingyu decides there’s no possible way he can afford to fuck this up, in any capacity. Not only for himself, but for you too.

“Y/N didn’t do anything wrong,” Mingyu states, approaching the screen so his management team can see him properly.

Mr. Han sighs. “She went against explicit rules about tampering with your base code-”

“And you created me using illegal code.” Mingyu knows he’s being aggressive, he can feel it, but he knows that this fact is his biggest bargaining chip, and he’s not afraid to use it right out of the gate.

There’s silence on the conference call.

“This would be a scandal if it got out,” Mingyu continues, “more than it already is.”

“Mingyu,” you say quietly at his side, “don’t-”

“No, they need to hear this,” he insists. “They need to know they can’t push you or me around anymore.”

If there’s one language Mr. Han understands, it’s that of business, and Mingyu’s lucky he knows how to speak it as well. “I don’t know what has already been said,” he confesses, “but I’ve run this through my head, and there are only a few options. Some are better than others.”

“We’re listening,” Mr. Han sighs.

“Option one, you try to hide all of this, but it gets out anyways. Using bugged sex bot coding will get out sooner or later, and you’ll all go down being known as the company that used illegal coding to make their money and put their team at risk.” Mingyu stares into the camera, hoping the impact is clear. “Option two… you allow y/n to continue her revolutionary behavioral treatment on me, it’s successful, and somewhere down the line you can come out admitting there were mistakes in the base code, but now you have a solution for it.”

“I feel like we have more options than that,” Mr. Han says.

“Maybe,” Mingyu admits, “but the way I see it, all that matters is these two. The bad coding comes out now, and you’re exposed with no solutions, or, it comes out later with a fix already in place.”

“So you expect us to just allow you to stay at the wellness center forever?” Mr. Han questions, as if it’s one of the most preposterous things he’s ever heard.

“Not forever.”

“You were made to perform, made to make the company money, to work-”

“My group will never be whole again,” Mingyu states. “You won’t be able to recapture all thirteen of us-”

“That’s yet to be determined.” Mr. Han is trying to make it sound like anything is possible, but Mingyu knows it’s highly improbable, and these are odds he’s willing to bet his life on.

“I can be your success story,” he insists. “I can continue doing modeling jobs, continue being a brand mouthpiece for the company- most of us automatons want to work, but, if there’s one thing I’ve learned while being in this facility, it’s that everyone deserves a break. I might be a robot, but I have needs too. I’ll perform better if tactics from this facility are applied to my day to day schedule-”

“You want to be treated like a human?” Mr. Han asks in shock. “Given weekends off?”

“I might not have a soul,” Mingyu admits, “but I’m alive. I have feelings. I have needs, wants,” his gaze slides to you, “aspirations.”

Mr. Han laughs, “Aspirations? Outside of performing? Like what?”

“Right now, I’m trying to read a very good book,” Mingyu states.

“This is preposterous.” Mr. Han sighs.

“What’s preposterous is the working conditions that your company implements on your AI.” For the first time, Mingyu’s gaze shifts to the other people on the screen. “Think about your sons, your daughters, nieces, nephews- would you want your loved ones forced to do the life I was forced to do? Working all day, every day? With handlers threatening them at every turn? Or would you want to give them some semblance of balance?”

No one says anything.

“You say me and my members are the ones with bugs, we’re the ones that have to be fixed, but it’s the system that’s faulty. What’s the point of AI that’s life like if it’s not free? If it’s not truly living- sitting in the sun, reading a good book, playing stupid sports games with no pressure to excel to an extreme? What’s the point in parading me around if you never give me the environment to achieve past my intrinsic base code? To become more than what I am, a passionate AI who wants to do good for the galaxy?”

“You do good by making your fans happy.”

“There’s more to life than their happiness. First, I need to reach my own. Without constraint, or threat, or fear.”

Ten seconds pass before Mr. Han says anything. “We’ll need time to consider this. After deliberation, we will call you back.”

The line is dropped and Mingyu hears you let out a deep breath he hadn’t known you were holding.

“Well,” you bite at your lip, “at least it wasn’t an immediate no.” You turn to him, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. They can say what they want going forward but, as far as I’m concerned, Mingyu, this is the first time I’ve really seen you truly free.”

Waiting for Mingyu’s management team to deliberate is one of the hardest hours of your life. You want to try to stay calm, for Mingyu more than anything, but he sees right through you. When you begin to pace, the automaton stands up to join you, moving back and forth through your space with a concerned expression.

When the shrill sound of your meeting room ringing makes you practically jump, Mingyu reaches out and squeezes your hand, giving you a look that says ‘we’ll get through this,’ although, you’re not so sure.

“Hello, Mr. Han,” you greet the ceo on your screen, fidgeting with your fingers.

The rich man knows time is money, and he cuts to the chase. “After careful consideration,” he says with a sigh, “we’ve decided we can open negotiations with you about the future. As it is true that we might not ever have a complete 53V3NT33N unit again, we think it’s best if Mingyu stays in the center under your care, although in a month’s time, we will revisit this situation with new updates such as the possible recapture of any other members.”

You’re in shock. Completely overwhelmed- and luckily, Mingyu is there to confirm the details where you’re unable to speak.

“Revisit the situation,” Mingyu repeats. “So this means you won’t terminate me.”

“Not any time soon,” Mr. Han confirms. “We all agree that if your sex bot base code gets out, it would reflect badly on all of us. It seems as if you’re making progress at the center, and if there is a behavioral answer to the base code bugs, we’d like to find it. Good work y/n. And Mingyu, we’re pleased with your commitment to getting better.”

“Thank you, Mr. Han,” you swallow thickly. “I’ll write a full report on my findings detailing Mingyu’s progress, triggers, and the reasoning behind how his base code is affecting aggression levels.”

Mr. Han nods. “We’ll be excited to receive it, and we’ll be in touch.”

With a short goodbye, the call ends.

You stand there for a moment, still in shock.

“We did it,” Mingyu breathes, turning to you. “We did it!”

“You did it,” you tell him, reaching out to grab his hands. “Mingyu, I can’t believe-” Your voice cracks, and you can’t complete your sentence, but it doesn’t matter because your big, lovable, automaton is pulling you to his chest, wrapping you in a hug that calms your entire body.

You lean into his embrace, resting your cheek against his strong form and taking a deep breath of relief.

He holds you for a while, hand stroking your back. “Do you need me to go back to my room?” he asks.

“What?” You pull away to look up at him in confusion.

“I thought maybe you’d have to go tell your boss about this-”

“No,” you shake your head quickly. “He can wait.” You’re so close to him, as close as you’ve ever been, and you find yourself staring at his perfect lips. “He can wait, because I want to do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s something that’s been on my mind since that first day I met you, something I never allowed myself to want- but now it’s something I think we both need… can I kiss you, Mingyu?”

“Please-” he practically melts in your embrace, looking down at you with those star filled eyes that had captured your attention the very first time you’d seen him.

You reach up, cupping his cheek and getting on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

You’ve never kissed an automaton before, and as Mingyu reacts to you, opening his mouth to allow your tongue to glide across his own, you find that kissing him isn’t much different from any of the humans you’ve kissed in your life. In fact, it’s better.

His own hands slip around your waist, pulling you tight to the front of his body. You stifle a moan from the contact, loving the way he feels against you.

“Mingyu,” you whisper against his lips, already able to feel yourself getting wetter and wetter-

“More,” he insists. “Please, I want more.”

“Then take me to bed,” you say simply, all your inhibitions disappearing as you revel in the sanctity of being in his arms.

The automaton reaches down and lifts you up as if you weigh nothing. You wrap your legs around his waist, kissing him deeper as he closes the short distance to your mattress. He lowers you slowly onto the horizontal surface, and you marvel at the control his robotic muscles provide for him in man handling of you. You could definitely get used to this.

Then you realize something, and you stop kissing him, taking a breath while his mouth moves to your neck. “Mingyu- have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Hmm?” he hums against your throat.

“I mean… with all your work and handlers, have you ever…” you bite your lip, “have you ever had sex?”

Mingyu pulls away to look down at you, and then he gives his head a small shake. “I’ve never had the time… never met the right person.”

A virgin sex bot, who’s ever heard of such a thing?

“But,” he continues, “I have the base code for it, and with my people pleasing tendencies, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble making you feel good.”

“That was never in question,” you assure him, cupping his face and drawing your thumb across his cheekbone. “And tonight shouldn’t just be about me. I can take care of you too… in fact, the whole point of this wellness center is me looking after your needs, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mingyu blinks at you, and he makes no word of protest when you push at his chest, encouraging him to roll so his back is pressed to the mattress while you steady yourself on top of him, straddling his hips.

“We can take this slow,” you tell him, leaning down to kiss his lips before moving to his neck. “Let me know what makes you feel good.”

“You feel good,” he says, dragging his hands along your form. “Your body feels perfect.”

“Yeah?” You swivel your hips, rubbing your core against the large bulge forming in his pants. “Does it feel good when I grind on you?”

“Feels like heaven,” Mingyu confirms, fingers digging into your waist, encouraging you to apply more pressure when you rut against him.

“How about your neck?” you ask, pressing more kisses there. “Do you have any sweet spots?”

“I think… just below my ear-” Mingyu shivers when you lick the spot in question, and the reaction fuels your ego, making you more confident than ever. “Wow-”

You find yourself giggling, teasing your hands over his white shirt and toying with the hem. “Can I take this off of you, Gyu?”

“Gyu-” he repeats almost wistfully. “I mean, yeah, yes.”

When you begin to tug the fabric up, Mingyu lifts his shoulders off the bed, aiding you in the removal of his shirt.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, while in the pool, but you’d had to try really hard not to appreciate his body then. Now, you can fully lean into your lust for him.

“You’re so beautiful, Gyu,” you whisper, tracing a nail along his washboard abs.

“You are too-”

“But right now is about you,” you remind him. “Let me appreciate you, please?”

You return your mouth to his neck, suckling on the spot that makes him dig his fingers into your hips again. He lets out a pretty moan, and in return, you grind your core against his bulge, beginning the descent of your lips to his collarbone, then his chest-

“You know,” you breathe as you stop your mouth on his abs, looking up at him, “I’ve read that automatons can cum multiple times without needing to recharge… does that mean you’ll let me suck you off before I fuck you? Seeing as this is your first time, I wouldn’t want to skip over any milestones.”

“Please-” Mingyu’s hips push up almost involuntarily, and you have to settle your hands on his waist. “Are you… are you sure about this?”

“Are you?”

“More than anything.”

“Then we’re on the same page,” you tell him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his white joggers. “I’m going to take your pants off now.”

As he did with his shirt, Mingyu helps you undress him, lifting his hips to make it easier for you to slip the fabric down. You make a conscious decision to leave his briefs on, wanting to toy with him a little, to go slow-

When you cup his bulge, Mingyu moans loudly, and you look up at him with a cocked brow. “Very sensitive, hmm?”

“You just feel so good,” Mingyu groans. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You’re so big,” you nearly whimper, squeezing his cock through his briefs.

“Nine inches,” he confirms. “Is that… is that okay?”

“It’s big,” you say again, playing with his briefs. You’d left them on to toy with him, but you’re pretty sure you’ve only successfully toyed with yourself. “Can I pull these down?”

“Please-” again, Mingyu lifts his hips, helping you remove his final piece of clothing.

His large cock practically slaps up against his abs, and you groan at the sight. You suppose he’d been built by someone, made to be perfect, in every way, so you shouldn’t be surprised by how beautiful he is. Yet, you are.

You wrap your hand around the base of his length. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fit much of you in my mouth,” you tell him honestly.

“That’s okay,” he assures you. “Your hand feels really good.”

“Does it?” You rub your thumb over the large vein that runs along the underside of his cock, appreciating how realistic he is. Of course, as an automaton, Mingyu’s body doesn’t really need veins, but it’s the thought that counts, and whoever designed Mingyu put a lot of thought into him.

“So good-” Mingyu groans.

You kitten lick the head of his cock and Mingyu moans louder. “You’re going to have to be a little quieter, Gyu,” you instruct. “Even though I love your sounds.”

“Okay, I’ll try-” he nods, watching you with a dazed expression.

This time, instead of just licking him, you wrap your whole mouth around his large tip, suckling on the skin. Mingyu lets out a small whimper, grabbing at the bed sheets.

You’re not sure if Mingyu’s cock will feel the same type of skin irritation of dry strokes, but you want him to have the best experience possible, so you allow yourself to drool on his cock. You bob up and down on what can fit in your mouth while collecting the spit lubrication, rubbing it along his shaft and applying a good amount of pressure-

“Shit-” This must be the first time you’ve heard Mingyu cuss, and the thought delights you as you continue to blow him like your life depends on it.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling of pleasuring him. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone, as working out of a wellness center doesn’t provide you with many opportunities to meet men, especially men who you like. But you really like Mingyu, in fact, part of you thinks you might even love him, as crazy as that sounds.

You’d almost forgotten how good it feels to give this sort of attention to someone you care about, and your hand moves faster on his cock while you try to take more of him into your mouth.

“This feels amazing-” Mingyu breathes above you, and it gives you the motivation you need to be extra daring, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat- “Fuck-”

His hips push up slightly and you rest one of your hands on his abdomen again, encouraging him to stay still while you blow him. As much as you’d like to let him fuck your face, he’s simply too big to do that, especially when you haven’t had a cock in your mouth in months.

You continue stroking him, but you pull your lips from his length, taking a breath and looking up at the gorgeous man. “Do you think you can cum for me, Gyu?”

“I can do anything for you,” he whispers back.

“Yeah?” you pump his cock harder, leaning down to lick the underside from base to tip.

“Please-” he practically begs. “I think I’m close-”

With the way automatons often power down at night, you wonder if he’s ever even touched himself. If he’s ever actually cum before- but now’s not the right time to ask for details, not when your mouth needs to be on him again instead of talking.

You go back to sucking on his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive tip while your hand works what your mouth can’t. All the while, Mingyu’s small sounds of pleasure keep you going, and they get pitchier and pitchier until you know he’s on the cusp of an orgasm.

“Oh my god,” he moans, “I’m gonna-”

The automaton can’t even finish his sentence, his whole body tensing as he explodes down your throat. You’re pleasantly surprised to find that his cum tastes like grape- and you’re reminded that sex bots have flavoured ejaculate. If you remember correctly, grape had been a flavour often given to the hopeless romantic/soft boy bots, and you realize how fitting it is.

You also realize that this might be why Mingyu’s been kept under such lock and key. If anyone had ever tasted his cum, they would have immediately made the sex bot connection. As far as you know, many non sex bots have flavourless cum, or something akin to the taste of a human’s but Gyu’s is one hundred percent sex bot and one hundred percent sexy.

It actually tastes good, and you have no problems swallowing every drop, working Mingyu through his orgasm until he’s whimpering above you, reaching down to push the hair out of your face.

You pull off Mingyu’s cock, looking up at him to find the most blissed out automaton you’ve ever seen. “That was amazing,” he tells you.

“I enjoyed that too,” you admit.

“You did?” He watches you sit up, undoing the buttons of your shirt.

“Uh huh, you taste perfect, Gyu.”

“I do?” He looks almost bashful, and as handsome as ever. “I bet… I bet you taste good too.”

Your pussy throbs and you let out a deep breath, removing your shirt. “Maybe you should see for yourself.”

“Fuck, yes, please-” Mingyu sits up abruptly, grabbing you and gently tossing you onto the bed next to him. You land on your back, and Mingyu is quick to get between your legs, lips finding your own.

He only kisses you for a moment before he begins a descent that’s similar to what you’d done to him, and you wonder if he’s using your own actions as a base for learning what to do in a sexual situation.

His tongue teases over your collar bone and his large hand comes up to cup your breast. “Can I take your bra off?” he asks.

“You can take everything off,” you confirm, arching your back so he can slip his hand under you and undo the clasp in record speed.

Your breasts are now exposed to the cool air of your room, and your nipples pebble for Mingyu’s eager mouth. His lips wrap around a sensitive bud while his fingers begin to play with the other, teasing and gently pinching at you.

You moan, threading your own digits through his hair. “Feels so good, Gyu.”

He groans, teeth grazing your nipple and causing you to buck your hips, pushing up against his body-

“Please-” you whimper, and Mingyu seems to know exactly what to do with your begging. His hand slips between your bodies, and he works on the front of your pants while he continues to worship your chest.

When he gets your button and zipper undone, his mouth continues it’s descent, both hands reaching to tug on your pants. You lift your hips, and in one motion, you find yourself completely naked.

Mingyu’s much too big to lie on the foot of the bed, so he slips to the floor, grabbing your legs and pulling you closer. “You look so pretty,” he tells you, adjusting your thigh onto his shoulder while looking at your pussy. “So wet and perfect-”

You feel your skin heat with something like embarrassment, but the feeling quickly dissipates as soon as Mingyu brings his mouth to your core.

He doesn’t start with kitten licks, but instead goes all in. His tongue pushes into your hole, nose brushing by your clit while he tastes your walls. The feeling is absolutely delightful and it makes you gasp, reaching down to thread your fingers through his soft hair, grinding yourself against his face.

“Mingyu,” you whimper, “just like that!”

He continues to eat you out, continually brushing his nose by your clit while you close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. His tongue is like magic, especially when he pulls it from your hole to circle your sensitive nub.

When you look down at him, you find him watching you, checking you for reactions, and the eye contact makes your stomach do flips. “You’re so good,” you tell him, knowing he likes praise.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and you cry out, hips pushing toward his face-

One of his large hands finds your abdomen, holding you down against the bed while the other slips between your legs, two fingers easily sliding into your hole beneath his tongue on your clit.

The feeling has you grabbing at the sheets, orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “I’m close,” you tell him. “Please, Mingyu-”

He sucks on your clit even harder, pumping his fingers in and out of your wet hole until your pussy is clamping down on him and you’re cumming hard. You cry out, whole body alight with pleasure as he works you through your high, tongue circling your clit and causing tingles of euphoria to jitter through you until you’re bucking your hips and on the edge of overstimulation.

Mingyu pulls away from you, slowly pumping his fingers before removing them too. Then he brings his digits to his lips and you watch him lick them clean, groaning at your taste.

You need him more than you’ve ever needed anyone in your entire life.

“Please, Gyu,” you whimper. “I need you inside of me-”

He stands from the foot of the bed, towering over you while you open your legs for him. Then one of his knees digs into the mattress and he’s joining you again, lifting you up so he can position you higher, with your head on the pillows.

He grabs the base of his cock, looking down between your bodies to where he’s rubbing through your folds. “What if this hurts you?” he asks.

“It won’t. You won’t,” you assure him, grabbing at his strong shoulders. “I trust you.”

He looks deep into your eyes, leaning down to kiss you before he begins to push into your wet hole. You moan against his lips, body working to accommodate the large intrusion that he so gently slides into you.

“You’re so tight,” he whimpers, “so warm.”

“Only for you Gyu, only for you-”

He kisses you then, giving small thrusts until he’s burying himself completely, your bodies are flush together while you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. You’ve never felt anything like Mingyu, and when he takes his first real thrust, you cry out in pleasure, moaning desperately against his mouth.

His hand digs into your hips, keeping you anchored while he picks up his speed, and that’s when you remember that as an automaton, he can go as fast as he wants, for as long as he wants.

He’s hitting spots deep inside of you, spots that have never truly been used until now, and you know that you’re not going to last long like this.

When his lips move down to the sweet spot on your neck, you can feel your pussy clench around him, and Mingyu groans against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he tells you, fucking you harder. “So perfect-”

You can’t even speak, can’t tell him that he’s the one who’s perfect. All you can do is moan in his ear while he makes you feel like no one else in the galaxy ever has.

You’d come into this hoping you’d be the one fucking him, the one taking care of him, but now, he’s taking care of you, and you promise yourself to return the favour when possible. You’d love to ride him, but your legs already feel like jelly, and when Mingyu slips a hand between your bodies again, drawing circles on your clit, you know you’ll be a goner soon.

“Gyu-” you whimper. “I’m so close-”

“I want you to cum,” he groans, fucking you faster. “Wanna make you cum.”

“Please,” you’re nearly crying from how perfect it all feels. “So good, so good-”

“I’m close too,” he tells you. “Watching you cum will send me over- you’re so pretty when you cum.”

His praise makes your core throb again and you gasp, threading your fingers through his hair and bringing his lips to yours. You can’t explain it, but you want to be kissing him when you’re thrown over the edge, want to be completely consumed by him-

“Gyu-” you whimper, closer and closer-

He kisses you harder while he fucks you stupid, taking your breath away until you’re gasping out as you fall over the edge, pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

He moans into your mouth, pace never faltering as he fucks you through your orgasm, working you for all you’re worth while you claw at his shoulders and whimper pathetically.

You can feel him filling you up, coating your insides with his cum, making you his needy little whore. You feel greedy for it, for all of it, for all of him.

His thrusts slowly come to a stop, and he pulls away from your lips to look down at you, watching you catch your breath. “Would it be crazy to tell you I love you?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No crazier than me returning the sentiment.”

“Really?” His mouth is on yours a moment later, and he kisses you with newfound passion.

It’s easy to get lost in his lips again, even while his cock is still buried balls deep in your pussy, and you wrap your arms tighter around the back of his neck, hoping he never leaves you.

It seems as though the same thought is on Mingyu’s mind, because when he pulls away, he asks, “What happens after all of this?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “But… no matter what, I’m going to fight for you. I promise.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. I’ve worked in this facility for years- I’ve watched level ones come in and out of here, seen the wear and tear, the use of bad coding. I’ve got lots of ideas on how to help you - and them - get better. If you’re not the only one with sex bot code, it would explain a lot of the issues I’ve seen-”

“Are you going to fix me?” the automaton asks.

For some reason, you find yourself laughing. “Mingyu,” you cup his face, thinking through all the events that have led you to this moment. “I could never fix you, you don’t need to be fixed. In fact… I think you fixed me.”

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🔮 preview. He’s an AI with sexbot coding and a one track mind when it comes to making love, and you honestly sort of love that about him.

cw/ tw. Sad Gyu, distraction sex, pussy eating, pussy stretching, fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex, teasing, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, praise, big dick mingyu, switchy/submissive leaning Mingyu, hair pulling, breast worship, mention of the classic sex bot flavoured ejaculate, etc…

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bonus

It’s been months since Mingyu came to the wellness centre, and everything has been going above expectation for him. He’s doing brand endorsements again and his management team has done a great job smoothing over the escape that took place.

You’ve been working on his coding, using behavioral therapies, and Mingyu’s aggression is at an all time low. He’s happy most days, and you are too… that is, until you get word that one of his band mates has been recaptured.

Against all your protests, his management team insists that Mingyu return to Earth to see the AI Mingyu knows as Dino. It’s a brief trip, and the fourty eight hours he’s gone feel like the longest in your life. There’s no way of knowing how this reconnection with a former ‘friend’ will affect Mingyu, and you brace yourself for damage control as you wait for his ship to land, returning him to your care.

He’s frowning as he exits the shuttle, and when he pulls you into a hug, he squeezes just a little too tight. “Come inside,” you tell him softly when he releases you. “I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.”

He says nothing, but he holds your hand as you lead him into the facility, walking unopposed to your quarters. Mingyu’s in your sole care, and your manager, Yoongi, has washed his hands of anything dealing with your new AI turned lover. You prefer it this way.

Mingyu’s quiet as you close your bedroom door, and he walks over to collapse onto your bed, staring at the floor.

“Take your time,” you say softly, sitting next to him and resting your hand on his back. “When you’re ready to talk, tell me what happened.”

Mingyu fidgets with a ring on his pinky- a ring that all his AI members used to share. He’s silent for a few minutes, and you wait patiently, rubbing his back and leaning against his shoulder.

“They wiped his memory,” Mingyu says finally. “Dino. They wiped him.”

You study his face, looking for any micro expressions, but Mingyu’s gaze is blank as he stares at the floor.

“Did they tell you why they decided to do that?” you ask, trying to be gentle with him.

“They said he was too far gone. He was away for months. They said there was no other way to get him back to the way he was… but he’s not the way he was. He never will be.” Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I asked them why they wouldn’t try rehab, why they couldn’t send him here- they said Dino gave up that opportunity when he ran away. I stayed, I gave myself up willingly, which is why they thought there was hope for me. Something about my actions being like a guilty plea, lessening the sentence. But Dino evaded them for months.”

You take a moment to consider everything he’s said.

If this is the precedent that his management is setting, that means none of his other bandmates can be recaptured, or they’ll suffer the same fate… if not worse. You can’t imagine what they’d do to Seungcheol, who was the ringleader in all of this- and you don’t want to think about it too deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You didn’t do anything,” Mingyu says meekly. “I know you tried to convince them to send him here but- I guess not everyone gets a happy ending. In fact, I’m starting to think most people like me never will.”

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hornedqueenofhell · 6 months

Text

#thebardsbodyguard

“Hello and welcome back, we just got to hear a sample of the new single 'We Don’t Have to Dance' from Grammy winning group Corroded Coffin and we have here the lead singer and guitarist, Edward Munson.”

Eddie waves from his spot on the couch with a shy smile, he’s still getting used to all the interviews and stuff that come with the rockstar gig.

“Thank you for joining us, we are so excited to have you here.”

“That’s sweet, thank you. I’m not used to hearing my full name, made me think I was in trouble for a second.” Eddie chuckles and so do the others on the couch as well as the audience.

“I know right, everytime I hear my full name I just-” Chris Pine straightens and looks around like he’s waiting for a parent or teacher to jump out and Eddie laughs because it’s true. The couch also has Stephanie Hsu who Eddie met briefly during the break when she asked what kind of music he did. Overall it feels less stressful than other interviews, he just has to remember that even if a joke doesn’t sit well with him to just smile and nod or Jeff will strangle him.

“So Eddie, you and your band just wrapped your second tour a few months ago and you’re already putting out a new album soon. How do you find the time to just churn out music like that?”

“Well, every member of the band pitches in to write our songs. So everytime we’re home with our friends or families we always have stuff going on, things to experience or draw on to make music. And we’re very close so we’re always meeting up to bounce ideas off each other.”

“That’s right I hear you guys all play Dungeons & Dragons togethers and you have since-”

“Since high school, yeah. I had to repeat my senior twice before I found out I had ADHD and there were days where those games were the only things that kept me going.”

Graham turns to Chris and Eddie is grateful for a moment to take a sip of his drink and fix his sleeve which is just a smidge too tight. “Chris I know you didn’t play before but have you started since being in the Dungeons & Dragons movies.”

“We did a one shot…,” he trails off and glances at Eddie who nods in confirmation, “One shot to promote the second one with John running it and it was fun but there’s just so much to memorize.”

“And you Stephanie, did you do anything like that?”

She shakes her head with a beautiful smile, “No, I heard about D&D growing up and it’s become so popular now. I tend to be outdoors- I’m still outdoors a lot, handling the farm and the gardens and such.”

“More power to you,” Eddie offers her a cheers with his glass, “I grew up in farm country but I’m terrible at keeping plants alive.” No, that honor goes to Steve who loves growing things in their apartment.

“Before we go, Eddie I have one more question for you. I know you’re not on social media much but the internet is just dying to know about that gorgeous bodyguard of yours-”

“Bodyguard? What bodyguard?” Eddie interrupts as Graham pulls out his tablet and presses a button to pull up several images from social media. In them is Eddie and a very handsome brunette man holding open the door of a cafe and walking with him into a venue with a hand on Eddie’s back. The same brunette is pictured picking up Eddie after a speaker tipped over and caused Eddie to twist an ankle during a show. All of the images are tagged #thebardsbodyguard or some similar iteration. Eddie frowns and points at the screen, at the gorgeous man he knows like the back of his hand,

“Wait, you mean my husband?”

Twitter goes down for three hours after. Eddie and Steve are trending on Tumblr for days. People scrounge up photos of them from high school, pictures of Steve from the swim team and Eddie from Hellfire club surface and float around the internet. The length of their romance is speculated on as well as when they got married. Some clever fan notes the ring Eddie wears on the same chain as his guitar pick around his neck and the bat wing tattoo on his ring finger that appeared around the same time. The only thing no one finds is the wedding. It had been a close friends and family only event and none of their people would ever share Steve and Eddie’s personal lives like that.

Eddie does eventually give a single interview about his relationship with Steve but after that refuses any others with a request for privacy. He does however post a single photo of he and Steve in their wedding tuxes on Halloween that year. The two of them smiling side by side, foreheads tipped together, eyes closed. Steve is laying on Eddie’s chest when he posts it, having given final approval on the selected photo, while they share a slice of cheesecake for their anniversary.

“Love you Stevie.”

“Love you too, my bard.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #modern au #rockstar eddie munson #people think Steve is Eddies bodyguard #secret relationship #married steddie #steddiefic chronicles

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ragingbookdragon · 3 months

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She exits the stage with a smile, disappearing from the view of hungry eyes to slip into the private booth above the dance floor. Her smile drops as she enters and grabs the silk robe sitting on her couch, slipping it over her body as the man in the corner sets his tablet down and watches her quietly.

“Good set tonight,” he notes, gazing as she sits down behind the one-way glass on the cushion.

“I’m always good,” she replies and holds out her hand, waiting; he’s behind her in a moment, handing her a glass of burgundy wine. “There’s a man down there at the center stage. Plaid suit. Receding hairline. I want him gone from my club.”

“Gone or gone?”

She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Depends on how many times he continues to touch Jeanette as she performs her set.” She takes a sip and hands it back to him. “Find out who he is, Simon.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, taking her glass before he bends down, getting in her ear; the coolness of the ceramic skull brushes her skin and she manages to suppress a shiver as he asks, “Is there anything else you need, Mistress?”

“Dinner.”

“What would you like?”

“Carbonara. From Osteria Francescana. And some wine. Something that pairs.”

“That’s fourteen hours away, Mistress,” he deadpans.

“And I have no doubt you’ll make it happen in less than,” she says, tipping her head up to look at him. “You’ve never failed me, Simon. I don’t suspect you’ll start now.”

His eyes crinkle behind his mask. “Never, ma’am.”

She watches below and notices two men who are talking amongst one another and filling out the questionnaire the club offers. “Simon?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“The two down there,” she says and nods to them. “Have Angelina bring me their questionnaires when they’re finished.”

Ghost looks at them. “New stallions to break, Mistress?”

She offers a secretive smile. “They’ve never been to a club like this. Just look at them.” Her smile grows as she sees the one with the mohawk grin at the women in the booth with their lovers, the other in the cap practically gawks as a crimson paints his face. “It’s always nice to welcome new members.”

“You haven’t welcomed anyone since me. You stopped after me.”

His tone is practically filled with a neon green envy, and she looks up with a smile, crooking her finger at him; he rounds the couch and she watches as he kneels before her. “Simon, how many do I keep in my personal circle?” he opens his mouth and she adds, “My private circle.”

He pauses before begrudgingly admitting, “…myself. Price. Keegan.”

She takes his chin in her hand, gently tilting his head up. “You are my most precious treasure, Simon. Always mine. Never shared.”

“I don’t like sharing you,” he retorts, and she pulls away, propping her elbow on the side of the couch, her fist to her cheek.

She merely smiles with amusement. “Someone needs to be reminded of just how much he means, doesn’t he? Of just how perfect he is in every way,” her eyes lower to his groin.

“Yes,” Simon begs, and shifts on the ground, his hips tilting down, and she stifles a laugh.

“Later, darling,” she murmurs. “You have a job to do before. And I’m still hungry.”

It takes him an awful moment to find the desire to get off his knees, feels better at her feet before her. “Yes, Mistress.”

She grabs his hand in hers before he leaves and tugs it, having him bend down. “What are you, Simon?”

His eyes drop to her lips, then back to her gaze. “Yours.”

“Mine.”

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awfcspencer · 4 months

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Hangover || alessia russo x reader

alessia russo x reader

prompt: Alessia helps you after a night out.

warnings: fluff!

a/n: Happy new year!! Slightly on the shorter side but I wanted to get something up before my work shift. Enjoy!

You knew immediately when you woke up that you indeed had too much to drink last night for New Years, the pounding headache made you painfully aware. You had gone out to the bars to celebrate with Alessia and some of the Arsenal girls to ring in the new year and have a few drinks. Few turned into several for you unfortunately. The light coming in through the window was much too bright and it genuinely sounded like Alessia was simply just banging pans together downstairs to mock you. Your head ached and for some reason your knee hurt a bit too but you weren’t really sure why. Much of last night was a blur. The clock read 9:30, it was already too early for your day to begin.

Luckily, there were tablets and water on your bedside table along with a sweet note that said, ‘Come downstairs when you are up!’ You quickly turn over to take them and suddenly a wave of nausea hits you like a truck, today was going to be a long day. When you finally came to be able to get out of bed, your limbs were sore and your head was still spinning. Your wearing night clothes and it seems like your skin care had been done but you don’t recall doing either.

Making your way downstairs was a challenge, taking each step one by one, legs wobbling a bit. The last thing you need on a day like this is to fall down the stairs. The loud crashes in the kitchen get louder, making you wince slightly. Your eyes feel heavy and are adjusting difficulty to the bright lights.

“Less baby, what are you doing?” you whisper out, voice a little raspy from karaoke last night. You don’t know who convinced you to do karaoke, usually being quite reserved, but after the first song, no one was stealing the mic from you.

“Well look who is alive.” she chuckles out, continuing whatever she was trying to accomplish, incredibly loudly you might add. It looks like she is making breakfast but Alessia was not the designated chef in the relationship, and you both knew this.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, you ask, “How much did I have to drink last night?” pinching the bridge of your nose as you asked, hoping this was all a big funny dream and you hadn’t woke up with the worst hangover ever.

“Babe I think you drank the whole bar out. At one point you were talking to the bartender more than me.” she laughs out. Moving towards you, she places her body between your legs, kissing your temple softly. You relax into her, closing your eyes to try to relieve the tension you felt from your head. You stay like that for a few minutes, not wanting Alessia to leave.

Unfortunately, a sudden wave of burning pancakes makes its way to your nose and you look over and they are indeed on fire.

“Less the pancakes!” you yell out and motion Alessia towards the stove. She quickly runs over and turns the stove off, huffing about.

“Sorry baby, I was trying to make you breakfast this morning because I knew you were going to be hungover this morning.” she cries out.

“Love it’s okay, we can order in yeah? Maybe from the small cafe down the street that we have been meaning to try?” you say to hopefully cheer her up.

A sudden smile is on her face as she looks up their menu and begins to place an order online, asking what you want as you try and decipher what is not going to upset your already sensitive stomach. Because of the long break, Alessia did not have training this week, so that meant you could stay in and just be in the presence of your sweet girlfriend. The food arrived and you sat down to enjoy and get to the bottom of all of the embarrassing things you probably did last night.

“So what occurred last night? I remember getting to the bar, but mostly everything after that is dark.” you sheepishly say out. You usually weren’t a big drinker, but it was New Years Eve and you wanted to celebrate, was that a crime?

“Well it started off by a round of shots, and then Leah convinced you to do karaoke, bribing you with yet another shot, and then at some point I lost count of how many drinks you had had. Half way through the night I tried to suggest maybe we should go home and you kept telling me you had a girlfriend.” she smiles as she recalls the night. She grabs her phone and shows you the videos and photos she took last night. Ones of you and her, ones of you and Leah, and then one that made you laugh as the blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Is that me passed out in the uber home?” you asked, hoping that the photo was someone else, but deep down you knew that it was you.

“That is exactly what that is. It took everything for me to convince you to go home from the bar. I also hate to be the one to tell you this, but you also were asleep before even midnight. I had to change your clothes and do your skin care plus brush you teeth” she says as she recalls the previous night. “You did keep telling me that I was the prettiest girl you had ever seen though.”

“Well at least I did one thing right last night.” you joked out. The pain in your head had subsided a little and with food in your stomach you felt less nauseous, but you were still sore. “Why is my knee sore though Less?”

An immediate laughing jolt takes over Alessia and she tries to get out the words in-between giggles. “When we got home and walked through the door, there was a football in the living room and you ‘tried to be like your striker girlfriend’ and kicked the ball but missed so terribly and fell onto your knee” she laughed out.

“Great just great” you added, glad she was finding this humorous as you for one were embarrassed and ashamedly sore.

“It’s okay baby, it was really cute.” she stated, “Really funny too” she remarked, more giggles taking over her. Hearing her laugh, you would take the painstaking embarrassing moment and soreness everyday if it meant you got to hear that laugh every day.

You and Alessia spent the rest of the day lounging around. You were in no state to do much of anything else and Alessia knew that. You both had caught up on the tv series you were watching together and even made dinner together. When the day was over and you were cuddled up with Alessia in bed, you told her, “I am never drinking again” both laughing together before falling asleep.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso blurbs #woso community #woso #awfc imagine #awfc x reader #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #awfc #woso couples #womens soccer #alessia russo imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt

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nanowrimo · 7 months

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5 Tips to Avoid Burnout as a Neurodivergent Writer

When taking on a project as big as writing a novel, you may run into the risk of burnout. NaNo Participant Joana Hill gives some tips on avoiding burnout as a neurodivergent writer.

Burnout. As writers, we all know it. For neurodivergent writers, burnout can be even more damaging than usual. We can be much more sensitive, both mentally and emotionally, than our neurotypical friends and family.

This means avoiding burnout, and taking care of it when it does happen, can be even more important for us. I’m here today to provide some tips for my fellow neurodivergent writers to tackle just that.

1. Write What Interests You

Write what interests you rather than what you think you ‘should’ be writing. Many of us get caught-up in pleasing others. For neurodivergent people who’ve spent much of their life masking, or hiding their true personality and needs because of fear of rejection, it can be a hard habit to break.

If you want to write a 50k slow burn coffee shop AU of your favorite fandom, an epic space opera starring ants, or a main character with ADHD, autism, dyslexia, or any other disorder or condition you have, go for it.

2. Get A Support Network

For neurodivergent people, we’ve often lived our lives with special interests no one wants to hear us talk about. It often results in us not talking about them at all before someone can tell us they don’t want to hear about it.

Whether it’s offline with friends and family, or online here at NaNoWriMo or other sites, having people who are actively interested in listening to you and helping you plot and write can be a game-changer.

3. Celebrate As Many Victories As You Want

Many years, my personal goal is that I can get the new Pokemon game, which always comes out around the middle of November now, once I hit 50k. But you don’t need just one grand goal.

Get a bag of your favorite candy and say you can have a piece every so many words. Find something on Amazon you want (and can afford to get!) and say you’ll get it once you hit the halfway point. Whatever motivates you to keep going, set it into motion.

4. Plan For Flexibility

That may sound like an oxymoron, but hear me out. Neurodivergent people often love to have a plan. I know I can get frustrated and upset when I’m expecting something to happen and something different does. For a big goal like writing a novel in a month, a lot of things can end up going wrong.

Carry a notebook and pen or tablet with a keyboard case in case an errand takes longer than expected. Back your writing up to several places in case your main writing device crashes. Make sure at least one of those is a cloud service in case you end up writing on a device that isn’t yours. The more contingency plans you have, the better prepared you are when life happens.

5. Be Kind To Yourself

Some days you may not get the minimum goal, or you might not write at all. You may feel like you just can’t do it because you’re behind on your word count, or you decide you don’t like what you’ve written.

I get it. But don’t beat yourself up about it. Take a break. Play your favorite game or read your favorite book. Go for a walk. And remember that you’re awesome. No one can write this story like you can.

Joana Hill is a writer of young adult stories, as well as novellas inspired by Japanese light novels and anime. You can find her books, social media, and anything else you could imagine wanting to know about her on her LinkTree. Photo by Andrea Piacquadio

#nanowrimo #writing #writing advice #self-care #neurodivergent writers #writer's life #by nano guest #joana hill

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marlynnofmany · 2 months

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Accidental Training

The animal cargo of the day was large and honking, but it seemed well-mannered enough. Picture a sea lion with tiny scales instead of fur, dark gray on top and speckled pale underneath. Bobbing its head in curiosity at the cargo bay and the people in it. The squid-shaped clients maneuvering the cage into place didn’t rate a second look, but they were probably familiar and boring.

Captain Sunlight, with her lemon-yellow scales and dignified lizardperson demeanor, got a lot of attention. She ignored the honks as she finished business with the clients.

Then I stepped up to see what kind of creature I’d be in charge of for this trip, and it exploded in excitement like a 500-pound puppy, dancing in place on its flippers and honking up a storm.

One of the clients said, “It does that sometimes. Have a good flight,” then waved a tentacle and left.

Captain Sunlight squinted at the cage like she would have liked to cover her earholes but wanted to put on a strong front. Instead she looked up at me and said, “Good thing this is a short journey. It seems to like you, though.”

“I see that,” I said, waggling my fingers at it, which just made it honk louder. “Did they tell us a name for it?”

She consulted the information on her tablet while the excitable creature continued to hop around. “Looks like his name is Freckles.”

“That’s adorable,” I said. “Hi, Freckles! Are you a good boy? Yes? Are you so excited that you could break a weaker travel cage than this? Yes you are!” I pressed my hands to my knees in classic talking-to-puppy fashion, which did nothing for the noise levels in the room.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Captain Sunlight told me. “The hover setting for the cage is turned off; it’s clamped in place; the food and supplies are here; we’ll take off shortly.”

“Got it,” I said with a wave as she left. There was a chance that Freckles would calm down if I left too, but he seemed equally likely to make lonely wails if left alone, and anyways this was the reason I’d been hired in the first place. Nobody else on the courier ship knew the first thing about animals. “All right, Freckles, are you ready to travel through space? Is that new for you? You look like you’re in good shape. Let’s aim for no medical emergencies on this trip.”

Freckles honked once, which I took for a yes. He bobbed up and down like a dog inviting another to play.

I copied the move, and he did it again. I lifted one foot, and he did the same, honking happily.

“Good boy! I’ll bet you make your people proud by holding still for tooth-brushing, don’t you? Lemme see your teeth. Ahhh.” I opened my mouth as an example.

With a similar noise, the clever animal copied the motion. His teeth looked clean enough, with none discolored or missing, and he even stuck his tongue out for a good look when prompted. I found a nearly-empty container of treats among the supplies, and rewarded him for good behavior.

“Good job. What else should we check? Can you show me your flipper? And turn like this? Very good. And like that?”

He could and did, visibly happy with the praise and treats. He was a little calmer now that there was something specific to do.

The engines started up with a quiet rumble, which caused him a moment of anxiety, but he was happily distracted when I started echoing his honks back at him.

If this had been an inanimate cargo, I would have left the cargo bay already, but I had nothing more important to do. My job today was to keep an eye on this guy. So I prompted him to do more beneficial tricks, then when the treats ran out, I decided the container made a fine toy.

“Hey look, a hat,” I told him as I put the lid on my head. The container was a mostly-round thing that twisted apart into two equal halves. That meant Freckles got a hat too. And he was so happy about it when I stuck it between the bars.

Only one coworker walked past the door while I was entertaining the cargo: Mur the Strongarm, who looked much like the people who’d brought Freckles onboard. Mur paused, saying nothing. Freckles ignored him, dancing from side to side while wearing his jaunty new hat.

I held my own pose, one foot in the air, arms spread. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Mur said. “Nothing at all.” He continued on his way.

“You’re welcome to join us!” I called after him.

“No thanks. I’m good.”

The short trip was pretty fun. Freckles was particularly taken by the discovery that his honks echoed when the container covered his snout. He could even balance it on his flipper like a hand, taking it on and off to test the difference in sounds. When I did the same and then gave him another treat from a fresh container, he pranced in place and slapped his flippers together.

As it turned out, he was good at repeating patterns too. We did some clapping games of the sort that human toddlers love, then I found a ball among the supplies and we were all set for the rest of the trip. It was even the squishy kind that glorped between the bars instead of bouncing off, which was perfect. We played an entertaining game of catch until the engine noises changed into landing sounds.

I was honestly surprised the trip was over. The captain came back in to meet the clients who were here for pickup, and I made sure to pack away everything into the supplies. Freckles made a sad honk when I took the container back, but I gave him one last treat, and that made up for it.

These two clients looked much like the last, though one was carrying a bag from the shopping trip they’d done on the way here. They were also more talkative than the other ones.

“…Had to stop by the battery shop for three different kinds of chargers, then the feed store for more of the special diet that our oldest animal takes, and there was so much traffic!” The one typing information into the payment screen didn’t stop for breath, waving several tentacles as she talked.

“I’m just glad there was a mask attachment of the right size in stock,” said the one with the bag. “Getting Freckles his air vitamins is going to be hard enough as it is.” He pulled something from the bag: a long tube with a concave shape at one end. “What do you think, Freckles? Can this be easy for once?”

Freckles honked, which could have meant anything.

I looked at the mask. “What does he usually do when you have to give him air vitamins?”

The Strongarm sighed like a deflating balloon. “He just doesn’t want it anywhere near his face. He seems to think it’s a game to avoid it, which is fun for him but incredibly tiresome for everyone else.”

“Have you tried making it a different game?” I asked, starting to smile.

“Like what?”

“Can I see that for a moment?” When he passed it over, I got the container of treats and rattled it for Freckles’ attention, then took a position in front of the cage. I held the mask in front of my own face. “Hey Freckles. Honk honk.”

He of course honked happily and shoved his nose through the bars, eager for his turn. I settled it against his snout — perfect fit — and he honked away. I pulled the mask back and gave him a treat, then turned to beam at the clients.

“What! He’s never done that!” said the one.

“How did you train him to do that?” demanded the other.

“Honestly, I wasn’t trying to,” I admitted. “But he’s very smart. He seems to like copying motions, and he’s definitely food-motivated.”

“Oh yes, those are the good treats,” said the client with the bag. “The new kind that my cousin’s book club host recommended.”

I handed back the mask. “Then you might keep these in reserve for important things, like rewarding him for taking his air vitamins. Though given how much he’s enjoying the new game, you might not even need to.”

The clients were overjoyed. They thanked me, thanked Captain Sunlight, and showered Freckles with praise as they unclamped the cage and started up its hover function. We helped them down the ramp, then they waved off any further assistance on the way to a flatbed skimmer with a loading arm. The guy with the bag of shopping struggled just a bit managing all the supplies too, but neither Captain Sunlight nor I were about to insult a Strongarm by suggesting they needed help carrying something. So we just waved our goodbyes and made sure they got everything loaded onto the skimmer before we closed the cargo bay door.

“Bye, Freckles!” I called as it closed. I heard one last honk, which I decided sounded excited about the skimmer ride to come.

“Well,” said Captain Sunlight. “That was fortunate. Good job.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I think they’ll all enjoy the vitamin process more now, especially Freckles.”

We walked through the empty cargo bay to the hall, where Paint met us, with confusion on her scaly orange face and a jar lid in her hands.

“Mur said to give this to you?” she said, holding it out to me.

I laughed. “Mur thinks he’s very funny.” I dutifully set it on my head. “Yes, the height of fashion. But I think it would look better on him. You can tell him I said so.”

“Okay,” Paint said, taking the lid back. “Why?”

Captain Sunlight huffed a laugh and headed off to the cockpit while I began the explanation of how I’d spent the recent flight.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#simple one this time #sometimes the job is just Dealing With Animals #and all that that may entail #my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs

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danikamariewrites · 1 month

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Wrongfully Accused

Ruhn x reader

A/n: please enjoy me projecting my hate for the spring break crowds AND Ruhn going full alpha hole for reader lmao

Warnings: possessive Ruhn, comfort (and a rushed ending bc I didn’t know how to end it, i might edit it later)

The Aux had been unreasonably busy this evening. Flynn was starting to develop a headache as the umpteenth slam of the holding cell rang through the small stone space.

On his way back up to the bull pen, rubbing at his temples, Flynn decided he hated spring break. When did he get so old and bitter about fun? Probably when that male shifter jumped off the pier when Flynn told him not to. Arresting college kids in the Istros was a hassle.

His ass hadn’t even touched his desk chair when Dec dropped a new stack of case files and tablet. Flynn collapsed into the rolling chair, throwing his head back letting out a deep sigh. “Were we like this on spring break?”

Dec hummed, “But it was worse because we had Ruhn as immunity.” The lordling sat up shaking his head, starting to sort through the endless paperwork.

“I said I didn’t do anything! Arresting me solves nothing you ass!”

Dec and Flynn’s eyes go wide at the sound of your voice. They watch as you’re dragged through the chaos of headquarters. “Yeah, yeah. Tell it to Cthona because no one else is listening sweetheart.” The Aux member said, shoving you into an empty interrogation room.

The two look at each other. Fear in their eyes for the Hel Ruhn would rain down upon the Aux upon finding out his sweet girl was arrested. “I’ll call Ruhn.” “I’ll find out what happened.” The pair said in unison, splitting up.

———

You could not believe the situation you’re in right now. Arrested and being held in an interrogation room! You were just on your way home from work and got tangled in the mess of drunk spring breakers. It’s not like you were participating in illegal activities.

Just a wrong time, wrong place situation.

You tired to tell the Aux member that arrested you what was going on but he clearly didn’t want to hear you out. Then you pulled out your last resort method. Name dropping your mate. Prince Ruhn Danaan. The male just laughed in your face.

Laying your head on the cool metal table you played with the chain of the cuffs that kept you tethered to the table. Letting out a bored sigh you settle in for a long, long wait. You saw Declan and Flynn by the desks. Thanks to them Ruhn would probably be here soon.

———

“No, no! Up that way! And make sure they don’t run off!” Ruhn yelled to his team. He shook his head taking in the mess around him. Spring fucking break.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket he saw the million and one messages from Dec on his lock screen. Missed calls, voicemails, and texts telling Ruhn to call him back, get back to HQ, and you being arrested. At the sight of your name and ‘arrested’ Ruhn didn’t even bother looking through the texts.

Jumping in the car he called Dec back. “What the hel is going on!” He growled out. Handing the phone over to Flynn he explained the situation. You got caught up in the mad dash for the pier across town and were taken in with the drunk college kids.

Ruhn gripped the steering wheel of the SUV so hard his tattooed fingers cracked. Stepping on the gas he sped off into traffic back toward Aux HQ.

———

Dec met him at the front door to try and quell some of Ruhn’s anger before getting upstairs. He knew he failed when the elevator ride was silent and Ruhn was trying to regulate his breathing.

His mate arrested! And in an interrogation room! Why didn’t either of his friends move you to his office? Questions kept racing through his mind as the elevator dinged. Stepping out he raced towards Flynn’s desk where he stood with the male that arrested you.

Before anyone could step in Ruhn grabbed the male by his collar, growling at him. “What the hel gives you the right to arrest my mate?” The male paled. “I-I thought she was lying,” Runh shoved the male backwards. “You’re suspended. Where is she?” He asked Flynn. “Room three,” he said quickly. Ruhn practically ran to interrogation room three, desperate to know if you were safe.

At the sound of the door banging against the wall you jump, sitting up straight. “Ruhn,” you breathed out, relieved that you would finally be out of these uncomfortable handcuffs. He gave you a pained look, moving to uncuff you. Ruhn rubs your sore wrists, “Sweet girl, are you ok?” He coos at you.

You let out a hum in response and nod. “Can we go home? I don’t want to be here.” Ruhn nods vigorously, his midnight blue hair swishing over his shoulder. “Of course we can princess, come on.” He takes your hand, pulling you into his side. Keeping you tucked under his arm and hidden until he buckles you in the car.

Once you’re home Ruhn carried you up to bed, giving you his shirt to sleep in. He gets the salve from the bathroom to rub on your wrists. You have red marks circling your skin that Ruhn wants to heal immediately. You spend the rest of the night cuddling and talking, with your mate promising that nothing like this would ever happen again.

tagging: @callmeblaire (love you babes💖)

#crescent city #crescent city fanfic #crescent city x reader #crescent city fanfiction #crescent city x you #crescent city ruhn #ruhn danaan x you #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan #ruhn x you #prince ruhn #prince ruhn danaan

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mercurialrain · 10 months

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I Couldn’t Have, I Was Playing Hopscotch with Hawkmoth

Felix slid into his seat next to Dupain-Cheng, wondering what would happen today.

It seemed that her new policy of dealing with Lila’s lies and the simultaneous ire of the class was to say whatever crazy thing popped into her head whenever they accused her of something. It had been rather entertaining, to say the least.

The first time she’d done it, their faces had been so comical that it had made Felix wish he’d brought his camera to school.

“Marinette! How could you shove Lila into the lockers?” Kim had stood in front of the crowd, his arms crossed in what was clearly meant to be an intimidating pose.

Marinette had looked up with a blank expression.

“I couldn’t have, I was playing hopscotch with Hawkmoth. He’s a really bad loser, so I had to leave before he had a full-on temper tantrum.” She had said it with the blandest tone he’d ever heard her use, which only added to the effect.

Everyone’s mouths had opened and closed like a fish’s, trying to figure out how to respond to her answer. It was obviously not true, but how did someone respond to that?

She’d held Kim’s gaze, no trace of amusement on her face.

It had worked exactly how he suspected she intended; they hadn’t managed to come up with anything before Bustier had come back in the room, breezily instructing everyone to turn to page 294 in their textbooks.

The next time, it seemed that they had come a little better prepared, allowing Alix to lead the charge. She was notorious for having a witty retort to everything, so it made sense. Unfortunately, Marinette had also come with a plan.

“Marinette! Care to tell us why you sabotaged Lila’s project in the art room?”

Marinette had held up a finger, digging in her backpack. The class had watched with interest, as this was the first reaction that hadn’t been outright hostile or bland.

She’d pulled out her tablet and typed something before turning it around.

Can’t talk. I lost my voice after too much yelling at the heavy metal concert I went to last night.

Alix had blinked at the idea of sugar-sweet Marinette attending a heavy metal concert, but recovered quickly. “Ok, so type out why you destroyed her project!”

Some more typing, then a response. Couldn’t have, I was helping scientists extract DNA from mosquitoes in amber to make dinosaurs.

“That’s the plot of Jurassic Park!”

Where do you think they got the idea from?

Alix had stared for a moment more before throwing up her hands. “This is useless, she’s clearly gone off the deep end!” She’d stormed out, leaving the rest of the class behind, unsure of what to do now that they’d lost their ringer.

Again, Bustier had made the decision of what to do for them, coming in with a reminder of the worksheet they had due at the end of class.

Needless to say, Felix believed that this was a very good use of her creative mind. Watching her outsmart the idiots of the class in her own way was endlessly amusing and had quickly become his favorite part of the day.

Today, before the daily confrontation, Bustier had assigned them a project, a partner project with their deskmate. For Felix, that was Marinette. Since they’d been working on the project all day, Lila hadn’t had the chance to leave and lie about anything, pushing the confrontation to likely after the lunch break. Felix could hardly wait to see what she said this time. Maybe this project would allow him to get to know and understand her better.

“So for the project I was thinking that we make a PowerPoint-” Marinette cut herself off, staring at him with a puzzled expression. “You’re almost smiling at me. Are you feeling alright?”

Felix immediately wiped his expression, mildly mortified that he’d outwardly shown his amusement, but forged ahead. “I see you got your voice back. Was the heavy metal worth it?”

“What? Oh, that. I’m fine.”

“Oh, I know. Your recent interactions with the class have been thoroughly entertaining.”

“Glad you’ve been enjoying it. Confusion is certainly better than outright hostility.” She sighed, suddenly looking very tired.

“It’s about time that you started retaliating, even if it’s just by scrambling the two collective brain cells they have left. I don’t know that I could’ve put up with Rossi’s bullshit for as long as you have with the patience you’ve had.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “You know she’s lying?”

He scoffed. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence like that. Of course I know she’s lying.”

Marinette was silent. He could almost see the burden on her shoulders getting lighter with the realization she wasn’t alone in knowing Rossi was a liar and was about to comment further on it when Marinette smiled. It was a mischievous smile that promised trouble, which immediately intrigued Felix. He hadn’t seen much of her troublemaker side except for the few glimpses from her last interactions with the class, but he had a feeling there was one hell of a wicked streak somewhere underneath that cotton candy.

“You wanna help?”

He considered for a moment. Was it worth getting involved in? On one hand, it was enjoyable to just be merely a spectator. On the other hand, he wanted to know more about this side of Marinette and it was always enjoyable to see idiots put in their place.

“I’m in.”

- - - - - -

After school, Felix and Marinette were at their desk, waiting for the confrontation.

And like a bad penny, the class came back to try again. It seemed that they were shuffling who was leading the ‘Marinette how dare you’ brigade, and this time they had chosen Adrien. Felix knew about her crush on him, so he supposed that it was a rather strategic move on their part, if he wasn’t able to see the barely hidden disdain for the boy on her face.

“Marinette, you know that it wasn’t kind of you to throw Lila’s backpack down the stairs while she was in the cafeteria. That’s not the everyday Ladybug we all know and love.”

Ah, the guilt trip method. Usually foolproof on someone as empathetic as Marinette, rendered useless by Marinette’s developing apathy towards the class.

“It must’ve been someone else. I spent the lunch break teaching Mr. Ramier’s pigeons how to moonwalk. I wouldn’t have gotten back in time if Felix hadn’t realized the time and dragged me back.”

“Now, Marinette, don’t lie about it.”

“I’m not. Felix?”

Felix nodded, pulling up a video on his phone and showing it to the class. In it, Marinette stood next to some pigeons, clearly demonstrating how to moonwalk. The pigeons looked on curiously, occasionally pecking at her shoes and awkwardly waddling backwards. Mr. Ramier sat in the background, alternately cheering or throwing birdseed to the pigeons. The video clearly had the timestamp of about ten minutes before their break ended, so they would’ve had to rush to get back to class. There was no way they could’ve done anything.

Marinette looked back at Adrien and folded her arms. “Well? I’ll take my apology now.”

Felix snorted at the flabbergasted expression on Adrien’s face, casually putting his arm over Marinette’s shoulders. He didn’t really know why he did it, only that it felt right. Apparently she didn’t mind, since she just readjusted to be a bit more comfortable. “Give him a minute, he’s rebooting.”

“Wait, are the two of you dating?” He blurted out, then immediately looked like he regretted it.

This time, Marinette snorted. “Because the only reason he’d support me was if he was my boyfriend? No, that’s what friends are meant to do, Adrien.” The last sentence was laden with poison that Felix didn’t know the context for, but Adrien did, because he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, turning away.

As soon as the class turned away, her head fell on his shoulder, her face crumpling in pain. He didn’t know what to do but hug her shoulders tighter. He’d seen that her love language was physical touch, so maybe it would help? After a while, her face smoothed and she lifted her head, seemingly doing better.

“Hey, thanks for backing me up.”

Felix shrugged. “It was fun.”

She turned to look at him. “No, I’m serious. It’s been a long time since anyone’s had my back, even if it’s just to mess with someone. Thank you.”

Why did he suddenly feel all warm inside? “So what’s the next plan?”

Marinette looked surprised. “You want to be involved in the next one?”

“Sure, why not?”

She looked away, her cheeks turning a light pink. “Maybe we could, well, I don’t know, I don’t want you thinking that I’m just saying this because Adrien said it because I promise I’m really not, but maybe we could, um, discuss it on a date?”

“But we hardly know each other.” What did she see in him that she liked? Sure, he’d helped her once, but that was hardly grounds for someone liking someone, was it?

“That’s the point of the date. To get to know someone. Besides, I want to see if you’re as nice as I suspect you are under that prickly exterior.” She was looking at him again, cheeks now a bright red, but with determination in her eyes.

Well, hadn’t he wanted to get to know her better too? “Sure.”

#felinette #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #genuinely keep forgetting to post my fics on tumblr #crack fic #lila salt

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ladykailitha · 4 months

Text

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 3

Happy New Year to all those that celebrate on Jan 1st! I didn't get as much writing done as I wanted during my break because my son brought home the flu and I've been sick for most of the winter break.

That said, I still have a backlog of at least a dozen chapters spread out among my WIPs.

I will still be posting Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursday just nothing will have a set day. Meaning you might get this story on a Tuesday one week, and Thursday the next. So on and so forth.

In this chapter I get heavily into gender dynamics and how sexuality would work with second genders.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Steve slid into bed with a sigh of relief. His scent permeated the bedding sending out a calming signal to both him and the alpha. He wrapped himself around the alpha and felt as he began to come out of the tranquilizer.

Dillon hummed happily. “You smell good.”

Steve chirped in response, rubbing his nose on Dillon’s scent gland. Again he sighed in relief. The actor’s scent was coming through. Weakly, but it was there. It was a dark woody scent. Like a forest after the rain.

“I’m going to take care of you, alpha,” Steve purred. “Make you feel so good.”

Dillon pounced on him and he laughed. “So eager. Take it slow, you’ve got plenty of time, sweetie.”

Steve ran his fingers up and down Dillon’s spine, causing the man to arch into his touch.

“Does that feel good?”

Dillon nodded, biting his lip.

“You don’t have to keep quiet, alpha,” Steve murmured. “No one is here to hear you but me.”

Dillon hung his head. “You don’t mind if make noise?”

Steve kissed his nose. “Did they make you keep quiet when they forced you to have sex with other alphas?”

He nodded, tears streaming down his face.

“Don’t worry,” Steve said. “You’re safe here. No one knows this address outside of Starcourt Services.”

Dillon closed his eyes and let Steve take care of him.

Over the course of the next three days, Steve found out that Dillon’s guilty pleasure was fruit leather. Not the overly processed kids stuff, but the locally sourced fruit snacks.

Steve practically cheered. It wasn’t protein bars, but it was something. He also found that Dillon would drink the shakes if Steve gave them to him, but wouldn’t chose them on his own.

By the time Dillon’s rut was over, Steve had really gotten to know him and was a little sad to see him go.

He wasn’t even told where Dillon would be going, but he knew it was for the best.

Steve showered and was dressed before Robin came back.

“Thankfully his rut didn’t last too long,” she said pulling up his schedule on his tablet, “you’ll have two days to do whatever before the charity ball for the New Yorker.”

Steve sighed in relief. “Thank god for that. First ruts are so hard.”

Robin nodded. “And it’s so rare for Starcourt to do them at all with the whole legality of it usually being alpha usually being fourteen to seventeen years old when they get their first.”

Steve sighed. “That too.”

Robin got a notification on her phone. When she checked it, she laughed.

“I just got something to absolutely make your day,” she said with a giggle.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Tommy’s last rut servicing hit him with a mini-heat. He’s out of the game for the gala.”

Steve winced in sympathy. “Better him than me.”

Robin laughed again. “That’s why you have me, babe. If the alpha has a history of blocker breaking, they have to do a lot to convince me to let you service them. Starcourt has a perfect record of whisking away omegas that have gone into a heat as a side effect of the servicing, but I’m not willing to take that chance with you.”

“And that’s why all the other omegas are jealous you’re my handler,” Steve grinned.

“Damn straight.”

They high-fived.

“So what are your plans for today?” Robin asked, putting away her phone.

“Pedro is coming in today for a final fitting for the tux,” he told her and she added it to his schedule.

“I’ll find out the exact time and get back to you,” she said.

“Then I’m having dinner with Max and Lucas,” Steve continued. “They just got into town this morning and wanted to meet up while they had time.”

“How goes Lucas’s law suit?” Robin asked, adding it to the schedule.

“They think it’s about to burst the NBA wide open,” Steve said with a devilish grin.

She grinned back. “It’s absolutely ridiculous to have six different sports leagues.”

Steve nodded. “Even the division between beta teams is dumb. But they’re working on one problem at a time. Get it down to two and then work on destroying first gender bullshittery.”

Robin nodded. “It’s especially stupid because that’s how it is handled in high school. If schools can handle the raging hormones of presenting athletes then professional teams can handle level headed adults on scent suppressants.”

Steve nodded back. “That’s their argument.”

“Good luck to them.”

“And then I plan on doing some shopping,” Steve finished. “Dillon’s rut depleted my stock more than I would have liked.”

Robin winched. “Well, at least your next servicing isn’t until the end of next week.”

He nodded again. “I’ve been messaging the alpha couple, they seem sweet.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I am so grateful to be a lesbian to first and secondary genders.”

“There are so many sexualities these days it can make one’s head spin,” he lamented. “Are you an alpha that likes alphas but only alphas of the opposite sex and does that make you straight or gay?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I simplified it to ‘no dicks’, but I know it’s more nuanced than that for a lot of people.”

Steve scoffed. “Like me?” he huffed, flopping on the sofa and crossing his arms. “Bisexual first gender, but I’ve never been attracted to other omegas, so straight secondary gender. And there are a lot of people that would say I’m not queer because I prefer alphas.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “And I swear it’s getting worse with non-binary and trans people added to the mix, too. And of course the rest of the queer community is thinking they’re safe from the hoopla, when we all know these ass clowns won’t be happy until they’re back to one man and one woman betas.”

“Which has never been a thing,” Steve grumbled. “It’s ridiculous.”

She tapped her tablet. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. “Just when Pedro is coming and my day is set.”

She shot off a quick text and got an immediate response. “He says at eleven. Is that okay?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, that’ll be fine. Gives me time to shop before dinner.”

“Done and dusted,” she said, putting away her phone and tablet. “We still on for platonic soulmate day tomorrow?”

He grinned up at her. “Always. We’re going to binge movies and eat junk food and lament about our love lives all day.”

“I’ll bring over some wine coolers and stuff to make cocktails,” she said.

He hopped up and gave her kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have fun with Max and Lucas,” Robin said. “Give them my love.”

“Will do.”

Max looked around the fancy restaurant in awe. “I can’t believe you can just walk into a place like this and you instantly get a table.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “It’s not that easy. They had a cancellation and was able to get us in.”

“I bet they canceled the other reservation to give it to you,” Lucas said.

“Ooh...” Max said. “I bet they did, too. Steve Harrington, omega escort to the stars wants a dinner reservation at our restaurant, lets boot some D-list actor so we can have him instead.”

Steve laughed again. “Really, guys. It’s not like that. I’m not some Lonnie Hansen or Roxie, I’m barely a middle of the road escort as far as how much money I make.”

Max and Lucas shared a glance before they broke out laughing.

“Guys!” Steve protested. “I’m serious. There are other escorts that make way more than me.”

Max raised her eyebrow. “Name five other than Lonnie and Roxie.”

Steve counted them out on his fingers. “There’s Nicole Jawara. Koo Sing Ma. Mirabel Diaz. Uh...” He tapped his third finger. “Um...”

“Admit it,” Lucas said. “You can’t think of any more. And the ones you have named? They’ve all been in the business for longer than you and have had time to be higher paid. You rose through the ranks like a shooting star and everyone knows it.”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, okay. I love doing what I do, though.”

“Which is why we’re fighting the NBA about Lucas’s secondary gender. He should be allowed to play in the national league regardless whether he’s an omega or not,” Max said. “As an alpha I can do whatever the hell I want and only mildly looked down on because I’m a woman. But being a male omega makes it hard to do anything outside nurturing jobs.”

“Which I’ve never got,” Steve growled. “They don’t force female omegas into those jobs, just male ones.”

Lucas sighed. “Add to it being black and I’ve been fighting an uphill battle my whole life.”

Steve nodded sympathetically. “Tell me what else is up with you two. Any chance of bonding on the horizon.”

Max scoffed. “As if. We want to get this suit over with first. Then we’ll talk.”

“What about you?” Lucas asked. “Surely there have been alphas that have offered to buy your contract. You could settle down with one. Adopt pups.”

Steve ducked his head. “I’ve had offers. But as...” he huffed trying to find the right word. “Concubines? Sex toys for when their mates are pregnant or nursing. Not actual relationships.”

Max snorted. “I bet Nancy Wheeler tried.”

“Twice,” Steve agreed. “The only thing that would lure me from my job is falling in love with an alpha. And the chances of that happening are slim to none right now.”

Lucas sighed. “It’s because anyone you do meet is just going to want sex, huh?”

Steve nodded. “It’s really frustrating. But that’s why most of my friends are from before I became an escort. It’s just too hard to trust someone now a days. People wanting to be friends only want it for the perks,” he waved around him, “and not because they actually like me. People who want a ‘romantic’ relationship are one of three categories: only in for the sex. Only in for the sex and all the perks that come with being me. Or they want to shame and control me.”

Max and Lucas share a glance and have the decency to look mildly chastised. Because, yeah they used the perks of Steve’s job on more than one occasion.

Steve sighed. “So have you guys seen the latest superhero movie?” he asked, eager to move on.

Max and Lucas took it as the life line it was and starting chatting about what movies they’ve seen.

Steve loved his days were it was just him and Robin sans Starcourt business. Where they could just be two lovable goofballs and talk about their love life.

“Vickie is an omega, Steve,” she whined, ripping into her gallon sized bucket of Red Vines. “She’s not going to want to be with someone who can’t help her during her heats.”

Steve scoffed. “I’ve never had an alpha service my heats, and I’m fine. If she cares about you, she’ll use toys and heat aids. And don’t discount the pleasure of your fingers, babe.”

Robin made a gagging sound. “Don’t talk to me about sex, dingus. I don’t think I can handle it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s literally my job, Robs. Like you can blow me off all you want, but you know you’re not going to get better advice from someone outside the medical field.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” she sighed.

“So you’ll ask her out this weekend?” Steve pressed.

“Yes, Steve,” Robin said, rolling her eyes “while you’re out there looking gorgeous on the arm of Nancy Wheeler, schmoozing it up with the rich people, I will be putting my heart on the line to ask a really cute girl out on a date.”

He kissed her cheek and stayed in her space. “And then when she says yes and you two are making out on her sofa, spare a thought for your poor single platonic soulmate who was soooo right.”

Robin pushed him away from her. “God, you are such an ass.”

“Yes, but it has been praised by many an alpha,” he teased, “so I love flaunting it.”

Robin threw her Red Vine at him.

He took a huge bite out of it and then grimaced. “I don’t’ know how you can stand eating these things. I think they taste like soap.”

“Just because your tastebuds are out of wack,” Robin said, snatching it away from him and munching on it, “doesn’t mean the rest of us should be forced to eat those tasteless sticks called Twizzlers.”

Steve pouted. “But I like the chocolate ones.”

“Further proof of your lack of taste, dingus,” she said. “It just means that this,” she held up her bucket, “is all mine.”

He just shook his head and grabbed the remote. “It’s a vampire romance, you ready for this?”

“Hell yeah!”

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

The Red Vine vs Twizzler debate was something that me and my best friend argued for years. And yes there was a period of time when Red Vines tasted like soap. They don't anymore, thankfully. But they did.

The TV show they are watching is "The Scholar That Walks By Night" a Korean drama my sister is obsessed with.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @lingeringmirth @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @slowandsteddie @mangoinacan13

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #omega steve harrington

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