#I’m going to try and attempt some computing today

[thekittyburger]

me last night except ao3 WAS DOWN 💔💔💔💔💔

i have so much work to do before i go back to college tomorrow that i've decided to do absolutely none of it. if you need me, i'll be on ao3.

[ev3nesce]

play pretend

summary: It's the end of the week, and your last task is a routine checkup with Dr. Zayne. You're childhood friend, the only stability in your life. You wouldn't trade him for anything, and if that means keeping your feelings in check, then so be it. But when the topic of an unwanted suitor comes into question, your check-up is lost to a game of pretend. Do you have the strength to let him pose as your boyfriend for a quick fix, or will you forget where the line between real and fake is drawn? Spoiler: you forget.

tl;dr: plot with porn?? going yearn for yearn with Zayne 😼

zayne x fem reader

authors note: this is purely self-indulgent LMAO I was so hurt by the new main story update that I had to write a cutesy first fuck. And yes there IS a build up to the smut people lock in I’m here to fix your attention spans. Alsoooooo there's nothing else on this account cause I got too embarrassed to post a fic on the main. Can’t have friends and fam stumbling upon smut written by my own hands. Haven’t posted a fic of any kind in years so please be kind 😘 also cross-posted this on AO3

one-shot; smut (p in v, unprotected, fingering); 9.8K words

Hands subconsciously smoothing out your still-pristine uniform, you smile at the familiar nurses who breeze by. It’s an exchange that, no matter how frequent, still strikes you as, well… funny. Never would you have pictured yourself on a first-name basis with half of Akso Hospital. Not without help, at least. You suppose such a privilege comes with the package deal that is Dr. Zayne.

Zayne, whose office is two more turns to the left. Your fingers absentmindedly fix your hair for the nth time. 

Thanks to your hasty stride, you’re a tad out of breath. And late. In hallways where staff and patients vanish from view, you shamefully jog, only to awkwardly press the brakes when those familiar faces attempt to greet you. Of course, they let you go quickly, for this is not an unusual occurrence. While you’re punctual in any other professional setting, your unique situation with your primary care physician seems to influence some tardiness. Maybe it’s because you know that, behind all the mockery and lethal side-eyes, he doesn’t really care. Not anymore; months of buttering him up and trying to coax a long-lost bond from him have undoubtedly paid off. 

But this time, it wasn’t your fault. You physically cringe at the fresh memory moments before you throw the door to Zayne’s office wide open, uncaring of what you might be interrupting. Most of the time, you had some decency to knock during your lateness. Naturally, manners were the least you could offer as an apology. Today, however, your head was a foggy mess.

“Sorry—“ You blurt out. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Zayne sits comfortably at his pristinely organised desk, and—as dramatic as ever—he does not look your way. The soft clicks of his slender fingers typing on the keyboard are the first to greet you. The reflection of the computer screen on his glasses is especially harsh at this hour as the last remnants of sunlight slip away. Beyond the wall of windows, the vibrant Friday night life of Linkon begins to stir, its pulsating energy a stark contrast to the air of serene focus in this room.

“Again.” He hums absentmindedly as you sheepishly enter and shut the door. Those tired feline eyes remain on the computer screen. “What’s the excuse this time?”

The thought of why coaxes an awkward laugh out of you. “Nothing interesting.”

Zayne’s brows ever so slightly pinch at the sound, and he finally throws a glance your way. No doubt he registers your exhausted, flustered look as you settle into a chair. “Even children are more creative when lying. You look…dishevelled.”

“No, I don’t.” You definitely do.

“Overworking yourself again?”

“What? No.”

You brace yourself for the onslaught of questions his words threaten. Whenever the topic of your work’s physical demands comes up, the conversation becomes a never-ending back-and-forth. He insists you need to take a step back. You insist he’s overreacting. Despite your best efforts, neither of you can sway the other. 

“Then what?” He presses. “Something interesting?”

You frown as the picture of your desk back at work comes to fruition, decorated with a flamboyant yet stereotypically boring gift, one that you could not bring with you. Following it is the unfavourable closeness of the gift-giver’s desk to your own. 

“I was just about to leave work—on time, mind you—when I got given a gift, so I got held up in conversation.”

“A gift?”

“Some flowers.”

“Flowers?”

There’s an inexplicable flutter in your stomach as you hint at the event to Zayne, a cringe pressing in on your shoulders, though you can’t quite justify why. Perhaps it’s the invisible, warning whisper of unspoken boundaries years in the making, as if flirtation and romance were forbidden topics in his presence. Like standing barefoot in the cold. Like a puritan child burdened with silent shame, hesitant to speak on the prospects of young love before a disapproving parent. 

The very idea of acknowledging your own desirability feels taboo. And yet, beneath that suffocating truth, a sinister and smitten urge blooms. It is a fragment of your heart eager to dangle those delicate ideas in front of him. Could you coax even an inkling of jealousy from those otherwise unreadable eyes?

Zayne busies himself for a brief, silent moment, arranging papers that are presumably yours into a neat pile and grabbing simple equipment from the drawers. You’re following gaze is spurred by the conflicting apprehension and interest. The dull scratch of a pen on paper, a breath, your heartbeat. Finally, he rests his chin on one hand and taps the pen against his desk. 

“Who gave them to you?” 

“One of the guys I work with. We happen to be stationed together often.”

“A co-worker, huh?” A moment ago, you could have sworn the usual indifference in Zayne’s face had softened. But what you’re looking at now isn’t exactly a soft look. “I presume he didn’t just want to give you flowers for the sake of it?”

“He also asked me to dinner.” You pretend to find interest in the distant view of neon lights outside the window. “Tonight.”

“What did you tell him?” 

Are the taps of his pen on the desk becoming more aggressive?

You shrug as if your answer is painfully obvious. “That I was busy. Maybe another time.”

“Why not tell him no?”

“Well…I don’t know.” You shrink in on yourself slightly, as if confined by the physical manifestation of social pressure. The man you were talking about, while friendly enough, was oftentimes difficult to deal with. Not outrightly so, but it was the little things: the subtle knack of being argumentative, an ego as inflated as a balloon ready to burst. All while you had to see him every day? …You had really drawn the short end of the stick here. “I felt bad.”

Something about your answer makes Zayne sigh. He drops the pen and reaches for the blood pressure monitor. As he speaks, his tone is both exasperated and annoyed. “Don’t worry about being polite with those things. You’re just giving him hope by saying ‘another time’.”

You shrug off the thick, leather-like jacket of your Hunter uniform reserved for office work and present your arm. Beneath it is a tight, white button-up. You try not to be aware of the few unfastened top buttons.

“What if he’s one of those ‘pay for everything’ types and takes me somewhere fancy?” You tease as Zayne wraps the band around your forearm. “One date might not hurt.”

Zayne’s grip on the arm band shifts subtly, slender fingers tugging the band unexpectedly tight. The coarse fabric presses against your pulse. His brow furrows — an indication of focus, but on what, you wonder? Zayne’s medical prowess is above the mechanics of velcro or the calibration of blood pressure machines. The clinically harsh overhead lights cast a white halo behind him that cuts sharp lines across his jaw.

“What happens when he expects more than one date?”

“You never know. I might be swayed in his favour.”

The weight of Zayne’s stare is noticeable only when he looks away, turning his focus to the machine’s screen. “You can have fun without going on pointless dates. Especially with someone you work with.”

You sigh dramatically. “I know. I’m mostly joking, but a girl can dream.”

Zayne raises a brow. “Dreaming about your coworkers? How professional of you.”

“You’re one to talk about ‘professionalism’,” you retort with a hmpf. “You’re my doctor, after all. I thought there were strict rules about interpersonal relationships with patients.”

“Rules, yes.” Scarred fingers reaching blindly for his stethoscope. As he speaks, there isn’t much authority in his voice. Instead, it’s almost quiet, far away as he sinks into thought. “But we’re friends first.”

“It still surprises me, though.”

“I’d be more surprised if you went to someone else.” 

Now it’s your turn to raise a brow. “How so?”

“Well, I know your medical history like the back of my hand, you’re comfortable with me, your condition is compatible with my specialisations…” A hint of mischief burns in the few bright specks of his otherwise dark eyes. “And I highly doubt anyone else would want to put up with you.”

Your face contorts as if his words attack your senses like a bitter lemon slice. “Ouch, Dr. Zayne. Am I that much of a pain?”

“More like a constant headache.”

Zayne reaches forward, and instinctively, you straighten up, welcoming the further tests. But the chest piece of the stethoscope isn’t in his hand. Instead, he leans down, one hand wrapping around your chair legs. The low groan of wood against wood cuts through the room as you slide towards him. He does so with ease. Incredible ease and attractive ease. 

Though his uniform usually leaves little to the imagination, the white coat pulls taut, offering a delicious view of firm muscle. You swallow hard, almost ashamed at how easily the casual display of strength weakens your knees. The man opposite you is otherwise unbothered, straightening to fix the stethoscope in his ears. 

Considering he’s about to listen to your racing heart, you look away, searching for a quick fix. Any sight except him will do. Your eyes fall to the floor…and to the very usable wheels on his own chair.

“In that case, maybe I should switch to someone else.” The cold metal presses in the open V of your button-up, right below your collarbone. “You’re so busy. I’d hate to overwork you.”

Zayne looks up at you through his lashes as he draws close. “Now you’re being dramatic. You wouldn’t last a week.”

“And what makes you so confident?”

He chuckles. Clearly, he’s enjoying the back-and-forth. “Because I know you. You’re stubborn, never listen, never follow any of my advice. Besides, you’d miss me too much.”

Your heart flutters right beneath the stethoscope.

“I do listen.” You choose not to acknowledge the latter half of his answer.

“Prove it then.”

You tilt your head, confused. He makes a zipper gesture over his lips. Oh.

For the duration of his observations, you keep quiet, allowing him to focus on the task at hand. Just as he sets the metal against your chest for the last time, your phone dings. The double chime is unmistakable: the secure messaging platform used for Hunters. You often exchange words with your colleagues through it, but at this time, those who didn’t have your personal number wouldn’t bother you. 

Your heart flutters again—this time for the wrong reason. Spurred by morbid curiosity, you fish your phone from your pocket without disturbing Zayne. Through the notification centre you scroll until the dreaded name pops up. Great.

“What’s with that look?” Zayne questions.

There’s not much more to say than the message itself. You flip your phone around to show it.

Sooo… how busy on a scale of 1 to 10 are you really tonight?

Zayne adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. A subtle squint creases the corners of his sharp, cat-like eyes, the faint glint of curiosity quickly giving way to something sterner. The amused tilt of his mouth from moments before fades, replaced by a slight frown.

“This is the flower culprit?” His tone is painfully dry as he pushes back to grab a pen and paper, jotting down something probably related to your heart rate. 

You hum in thought. “Time to come up with a good excuse, since I have nothing to do after this.”

“Or, and hear me out on this…” Zayne turns to face you, pen still in hand, as he leans back and spreads his legs. The sarcasm in his voice cuts rather than teases. “You just say no.”

Exhausted with even the thought of it, you sigh. “You don’t get it. He’s just a little…much. He tried something with Tara a while back, as if he shares a single similarity with her type, and he’s only just moved past the aftermath.” You huff a laugh. “My guess is that the only thing that will deter him is making myself incredibly uninteresting or pretending I have a boyfriend.”

“What awful options.”

Though you wouldn’t agree, you don’t argue, instead continuing to wonder aloud. “The second option would be the most effective. Two birds with one stone, even.”

Knowing him, a rumour will start at work that you have a boyfriend. A perfect excuse for the earlier gesture just being friendly, considering the flowers were presented with a considerable audience. The rumour wouldn’t be bad if there was an inkling of truth to it. Opposite you, Zayne folds his arms and taps the pen against his arm in a slow but forceful rhythm. 

…Could you use him as a scapegoat? 

The idea creeps in, sly and tempting, an offer as distracting as the taps of his pen. But no — you snuff that worrisome flame the second it sparks. The guilt it brings is akin to admitting aloud the things that cross your mind in his absence. Pretending would be more than a harmless lie, should he agree; it would cheapen your priceless bond. At least to you. The idea leaves a bitter aftertaste.

“What happens when he asks for proof?” 

“Maybe I’ll get one of my friends to play along,” you respond matter-of-factly, although the finer details are nothing more than an afterthought to you. In all honesty, you’ll probably ignore the message, but for some reason, you have yet to drop the conversation.

“And who exactly are you going to rope into this?” 

God, it’s like he’s determined to highlight every flaw in your plan. You grin. “Depends on who can be most convincing. Maybe I’ll hold an audition.”

Zayne taps the pen a few beats faster as you become stuck in a standoff-ish staring contest. Why, you’re not so sure. There should be nothing left of value in this conversation.

“I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.” You lean forward, anxious for his answer.

He tosses the pen onto his desk. “What if…I helped you out?”

You couldn’t be more thankful that the stethoscope is no longer in his hands. There’s a beat of silence as you look back at him with eyes wide in astonishment. Just moments ago, you had disregarded the idea with a sound resolve, considering it distasteful and disastrous for yourself. Now, with the offer coming from him, your stance has shifted. 

He could convince you to get away with murder. You stifle a laugh.

“You? Could you be convincing?”

“So you doubt my acting skills, huh?” He seems to relax at your light laughter, even flashing you a grin of his own. Your routine checkup has been abandoned entirely. “I’ll have you know I’d do perfectly well.”

“Prove it then. Time for your audition.” You clap your hands together twice before leaning against his desk, arm on the surface and chin in hand. “Question one: Imagine we’re going out for dinner. Where will you take me?”

Zayne looks out the large expanse of window as he considers your question with genuine depth. As he does so, he leans against his desk, vaguely mirroring your own position. “Somewhere we can have privacy, but not so secluded that it feels forced. Good food and candlelit tables. Cozy. If I really wanted to impress you, which I probably do, we could go somewhere exclusive.”

When the answer comes to its conclusion, his eyes slowly drift back to meet yours. Still unreadable. Typical. The carefully crafted response renders you speechless for a moment. You remind yourself not to let it show, pursing your previously parted lips. 

“We’ll split the bill fifty/fifty,” you add after a moment.

He scoffs. “Silly of you to think I’d let you spent even a cent.”

Don’t smile. 

“…Okay, question two: Where do we go after?”

“After…we could walk around the city if it’s a nice night and stop at some of the food stalls for something sweet—like the one I took you to after work the other week. Then I’ll drive you home. A little aimlessly, though, so I can waste time and spend more with you.”

Like the one I took you to. You raise a brow. “Nothing extravagant?”

“What, is this supposed to be a first date?”

“What if it was?”

He flashes a look of mock offence, as if the answer could not be clearer. “Realistically, how extravagant do I need to be to win you over? We’re not strangers.”

“But just like you said, we’ve done those things before. What makes this special?”

A tsk. “If you weren’t seeing the situation in a different light in accordance with our different relationship, I’d be a little worried.” 

You bite back a smile. “Fine then. Question three: I get that text while we’re out and show you. What do you say?”

“Tell you to text him something straight forward so that there’s no wiggle room. ‘I’m busy with my boyfriend, can’t talk’ should do it. Simple. If he questions the legitimacy, send him a picture where he can’t deny what we are.”

Reality suddenly draws you from the conversation’s alarming immersion. How did you get here? When did the conversation take this turn? Did the offer leave his lips on a whim, or was it brewing the second you mentioned receiving flowers? …Why? Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to even consider a version of the answer where there’s real jealousy in Zayne. This was a conversation between two friends, where one is in an awkward predicament and the other is offering a clear escape. 

Except it wasn’t clear. 

You could lie or swallow your pride and reject your colleague, but instead, you were hanging on Zayne’s every word in a daze. Though his descriptions were simple, it was almost as if you could taste the remnants of a shared dinner on your tongue, feel the chilly evening air on your cheeks and the warmth of his hand in yours as you strolled aimlessly through the streets. Imagining it isn’t an impossible task, either. Most of the outings you shared were the taunting shell of a date.

Zayne watches with an immeasurable intensity as silent seconds tick by, waiting for an answer. Should you agree? The date was only theoretical—no harm, no foul. Just a story to tell your colleagues. At most, a picture was all you needed. You match his gaze for a moment longer. Then…

“Alright. Fine.” You drum your thighs as you announce: “You’re hired.”

Zayne leans back in his chair at the news, grinning as if he’s just won a childish game of tug-of-war. “Before we start, I have one condition.”

“And that is?”

“As your employee, things will remain strictly professional, right?”

Those simple, serious words douse out the little spark in your chest—something you’re grateful for, and yet stubbornly wounded by. You snort. “I’d be worried if that wasn’t the general consensus already.”

With a hum, Zayne is the first to look away, eyes drifting behind you to the expanse of Linkon City. For once in this strange interaction, you recognise the look on this face: thoughtfulness. Oh, how you wished to pick apart his brain. Should the universe allow it, you would dive into his mind and make a nest of those fleeting thoughts otherwise destined to be unheard. In this moment, you can’t help but admire him from afar. You could swear a merciless ocean stands in the way, or a glass wall thicker than bullets could pierce. Then he stands with an outstretched hand, and suddenly, you’re back in his office, acutely aware of your physical closeness.

You place your hand in his with underlying hesitance. Before he shakes your hand, he pulls you to your feet. Warm fingers delicately apply his strength.

“Deal.”

“Deal,” you echo. You can’t help but feel surprise at his formal, dedicated approach. “Should we take a photo now, or should I just text him first and see if he believes—?”

“Photo first.” He’s quick to cut you off, shrugging off his pristine white coat in the process and haphazardly throwing it over a chair. “Who knows how long it might take for him to reply? We don’t have all night. By the time he does, I might be long gone.”

While that could be true, you knew your colleague would be waiting with bated breath for a reply. But you don’t bother to challenge Zayne in that regard and instead reach for your phone. “As you wish, Doc-tor. …How should we stand?”

Wordlessly, he takes you by the elbow and gently shuffles you to stand before him, your back to his chest. Over your shoulder you watch, quiet and nervous. There’s a pathetically large gap between the two of you. When you don’t step back to close it, he chuckles. 

“You can come closer,” he says. Then, in a more sheepish tone, he adds, “If you’re okay with that.”

You’re affirmation is nothing more than a hum, too cautious to give voice to nerves that may betray you. You’re step back is carefully calculated; not too far so that every inch of you is flush with him, not too quick to suggest eagerness. Zayne leans against his desk in an attempt to adjust his towering height according to yours. As a result, you find yourself standing between a pair of large, spread thighs that faintly brush your own.

Zayne’s movements mirror your deliberate caution, slow and measured. His hands first guide you by the shoulders, then shimmy you by your sides. Then, at a pace so gruelling it was like he wished not to disturb you, his arms slowly snaked around your waist. Each movement is made in such silence that you wonder if he’s even breathing. Were you? His arms hover an awkward inch away, giving you the opportunity to smack his wrists and lecture him on the professionalism he just swore to. You don’t. Of course you don’t. So he comfortably settles them, and you wonder if that opportunity was wasted.

Maybe if you leave your camera facing the ceiling, you won’t have to face the situation you’ve found yourself in. But unfortunately, time was moving at a very real pace, and standing around doing nothing would be just as bad. Stealing yourself, you raise your phone, nervous to make eye contact with your own self. Zayne cranes his neck to fit in the frame. Warm breath fans across your neck and ear as he does so. You shiver.

“Smiling is a must,” he murmurs. 

All you can do is nod, swallow, and smile as he instructs. Though it’s a nervous, timid smile, it is one nonetheless. Satisfied, your finger ghosts over the shutter button, only to forget all about it as he leans in a little closer, voice little more than a whisper in your ear.

“Smile wider.”

You can’t help but giggle at the feeling of his breath on your neck. It transcends the physical barrier of your skin, travelling down your spine tauntingly, leaving behind an overwhelming desire to chase the high. At least you don’t need to force a bigger smile—you take the photo the second he elicits the vulnerable reaction, capturing the fleeting appearance of a genuine smile and crinkled eyes. Though beneath it all, the ache of this hollow pretence remains.

“That tickles,” you say in a tone that is borderline accusing. 

“Sorry.” His voice remains quiet and breathy against the shell of your ear, this time with a hint of playful remorse. “It was intentional.”

“Mm-hm.” Focus. “I’m going to take one more.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss me on the cheek.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to make the request. Sure, from an outside perspective, it is reasonable enough considering the act you’re mutually playing. But such a simple approach disregards human complexity. If he accepts, is that a reflection of blind obedience, or does it stir something deeper, enticing him beyond the agreement? If he refuses, does that mean he respects those boundaries out of disinterest or fear?

“…Okay.” 

That’s all he says. You’re as clueless as you were ten seconds ago. Shooing away the silly internal debate, you turn your head more his way. 

You are entirely unprepared for how he complies.

Nimble fingers trace a path beneath your jaw before finding purchase on your chin, tilting it with a subtle insistence. Fingers splayed, his grasp is all-consuming and possessive—perfect for a photo and detrimental to your moral compass. His free hand finds purchase on your hip, consistently firm despite being nowhere in frame. Were you always this close? 

The final graze of his lips against your cheek is devoid of his hand’s inescapable demand. Instead, the kiss is gentle. Cheeks red and heart racing, you have half the mind to take the photo. Then another. He lingers long enough for you to take three, your face in different stages of submission.

When you lower the phone, his touch disappears with it. What he doesn’t do is usher you away. Curious.

“Got enough photos?” He asks after a moment. The casual nature of his question is almost laughable.

“More than enough. Now to see if it was worth it…”

Zayne peers over your shoulder as you navigate to the message that caused this all. The quickly crafted response reads with little room for argument. 

Look, I think you’re great and I appreciate the flowers, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I have a boyfriend, and he thinks I should convey that I’m taken to spare both you and me, which I agree with. I am not and will not be free to spend time with you outside of work. 

It’s read immediately. The first message follows soon after.

Come on, y/n.

He continues to type. Then comes the second message.

What boyfriend? I’ve never heard of or seen any boyfriend. You don’t have to lie to me. Just give me a chance, sweetheart.

Sweetheart? You scoff aloud in offence. The gall he has to not only doubt you, but throw in a pet name is beyond you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t ask for a better opening. You don’t miss a beat before attaching the photo of Zayne kissing your smiling face with a simple: this one. You can’t deny the satisfaction it gives you to prove him wrong, regardless of the real truth. A soft laugh sounds behind you.

“A photo was worth it after all.”

“I see what you mean, now,” he muses. Though there’s a slight smile on his face, there’s a line between his brows that can’t be missed. “He’s got some nerve, calling you ‘sweetheart’ and all.”

“Sounds like someone is still in character,” you tease, nudging him with an elbow.

“Hey, I’m just making sure the message is clear,” he retorts in mock defence. “Can’t have anyone calling my girl ‘sweetheart’.”

Your breath barely has time to steady before a familiar chime sounds, drawing your attention to the unlocked screen in your hand. A shocked gasp escapes you at the few bold words staring back defiantly. What, it reads. Can he not share? Any words of indignation are snuffed by Zayne’s hand closing firmly around your wrist, angling the screen his way. The shift from subtle indifference to something far more intense is evident in that now-familiar frown.

“Ignore it.” The playfulness is gone.

“Someone really wants to get in my pants.” You sigh. “Well…work is going to be a little awkward. Thanks for your help, though.”

He huffs a laugh, though there's nothing humorous about it. “You’re welcome. Just let me know if he tries to bother you again.”

You half-turn in your spot between his legs and poke him in the chest. “What would you do then, hm?”

“I don’t know…” He trails off as he grabs your wandering hand and settles it back at your side without letting go. He continues, eyes watching where his fingers toy with your bracelets. “Maybe I’d come to the Association myself.”

“Too bad Tara knows you.” It’s a miracle your voice doesn’t waver. The pictures have already been taken; there’s nothing more to fake. “She’d see right through the act. Or should I swear her into secrecy?”

You’re unsure of how long the two of you have been absentmindedly inching closer. The room has shrunk entirely, walls dissolving as tunnel vision settles in. No longer can you pick up the sterile scent of antiseptic that clings to every surface of the hospital, nor do the fluorescent lights bother you. Now, the only tangible thread tethering you to this moment is him. Zayne. Your breath catches in your throat. A dead giveaway. His eyes flicker back to yours. Is it possible that the featherlight drag of his fingertips over your wrist has caught your pulse?

At this distance, you could count each gold fleck in his heavy-lidded eyes. Now, that look is a characteristic you’re less confident in labelling as fatigue. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he’s found in your eyes, his gaze trickles downwards. Over the imperfections of your skin to the curve of your lips, down your neck, skirting the scandalously low neckline of your button-up.

“I can be plenty convincing.” There’s a soft sensuality in the way each word leaves his lips, foreign and addictive. “No one would have to know it’s an act.”

His index finger teases your inner arm before finally making the jump to your waist. Suddenly, you can’t find the line between real and fake, hypnotised by a hazy want. You lay your hand over the one on your hip and speak with hesitance.

“You’re…doing a good job of convincing now…”

Now there’s a hand on either hip, angling you to face him entirely. His words are little more than a breath in your ear. “You think so?”

A moment of clarity draws your anxious attention to the unlocked door. Though it was late in the evening and Zayne should be leaving by now, you were also no expert in the inner workings of Akso Hospital. How often do people walk in unannounced? Would he get in trouble if someone saw him like this? In you’re peripheral, Zayne tilts his head to follow your gaze, curious. Then he laughs, the sound soft and deep, and boldly caresses your hips upon the understanding of your anxiety.

“Don’t worry.” Without lifting a finger, a subtle frost blossoms over the handle. Soft cracks echo as mounds of ice creep along the locking mechanism. The surrounding wooden frame glitters. “No one can open the door.”

You lift your chin in an attempt to tease. “Why would I be worried?”

“No reason.” His fingers continue to deftly draw circles on your hips, slow and intentional. When he leans in again, his lips almost graze the skin of your jaw. “Sweetheart.”

Not only were the lines blurred, they were gone entirely. That fact is enough to feed your confidence. Timid fingers skim over forearms exposed by rolled-up sleeves. Jagged scars rise to meet your fingertips. They whisper stories you’ve been too wary to pursue. Zayne’s biceps are pronounced beneath the black fabric of his dress shirt, his shoulders broad and inviting. Your travels come to a shy halt just short of his collar.

“You’re a tease.”

“Don’t make it so easy.”

“You’re not making this easy, either.” His grip tightens with those words.

“What do you mean?”

“Playing this game with you…” His voice wavers then, torn between sanity and delusion. “I don’t know where to stop.”

You’re unsure of what to say or do. A chill is emerging from the tips of his fingers, so cold that it seeps through the fabric of your skirt. Zayne is naturally the embodiment of his Evol; cold and unforgiving to those who don’t know him. There’s a subtle, physical aspect to the manifestation, too, from the sharpness in his features to an arresting chill that follows him. But this is different. The temperature in his hands is dropping rapidly, so much so that the shocking cold almost has a bite to it. Is he…aware that his Evol is activating? You shiver.

“You’re hands are cold,” you whisper.

Those few words connect with him like a punch—a harsh reality check. It’s evident in the way that his entire frame goes rigid, the clouded look in his eyes overshadowed by a minor horror. The daze is gone. So is the cold. Zayne withdraws his hands entirely, sinking further against his desk.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice thick with tangible guilt.

Without missing a beat, you lean forward to match his slight escape, grabbing his hands and bringing them back before he can protest. The act is not a sensual show but instead an admittance of trust.

“I’m not afraid of it, you know,” you try with a small smile. “I don’t mind if your hands are a little cold.”

“You…don’t?” he asks, earnest in his perplexity.

You nod. He swallows.

“Why?”

Once you recognise that his hands won’t move, you slowly drape your arms over his shoulders. The expression on his face is akin to that of a wounded puppy. You’re both surprised at how quickly his hard exterior has melted and saddened by his martyrdom. Instincts rooted deep in your flawed heart pull you in, resting your cheek in the crook of his neck—a place equally as cold. Your fingers, which trace alone his nape, make contact with what you can only guess is a fine film of frost.

You sigh. “Well, you know my Evol can help ease it. If it hurts you, I can help. Besides…I’m not as delicate as you think I am.”

As you speak, the physical apprehension in his body eases. With it is the release of a shuddered breath as his arms tentatively encase you.

“You trust me too much,” he says with a light scoff.

“Sometimes you can be so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic.”

You lift your head to squint at him. “Hm… Agree to disagree.”

You’re faces are incredibly close. The question of how close or why is entirely out the window. This wasn’t some pretend play anymore. You find nothing artificial in the position of his hands, in the way his gaze dances between your expectant eyes and parted lips. Not in his voice, not in the subtle red hue on his cheeks, not in the complaisant confessions of his ragged breaths. Nowhere. The substance that supported an illusion is suddenly weightless, dissolving alongside the frost beneath your fingertips.

“You truly are the most stubborn woman I know,” he mutters. His own stubbornness is endearing, but you’re tired of this game of cat and mouse. 

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

Eyes less guarded than ever before stare back at you as if you’ve spoken another language.

You withdraw your hands and tilt your head away, half-joking, half-nervous by the lack of response. “No answer? Fine. I was offering, you know—“

Blinded by his previous dumbfoundedness, you don’t anticipate the speed of his reaction. Cold hands force you’re face back towards his. His head is slightly bowed, reverent eyes staring up through thick lashes. It’s as if he’s cradling an object of worship, like you’re a deity to whom he must repent. For he has sinned, disgraced by an ailing infatuation that has festered over the years, devolving into a mind-numbing greed.

Instead of the gentle tone that his words have melted into, a low, husky voice rings in your ears.

“I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

His thumb slides towards your lower lip, gently tracing the dip below to substantiate his claim. Air seems to escape you at the feeling of his breath, of his hands, at the way his gaze triangulates between your eyes and lips.

“I think about kissing you all the time.” 

His nose brushes against your cheek as he cranes his neck, breath fanning across your neck. All you can muster is a whispered, “Oh?”

“When I’m at home.” A warmth against your collarbone cuts through the overarching cold as his lips finally press down. Your heart stutters violently. “When I’m at work.” He kisses the expanse of skin between your neck and shoulder. One hand angles your head from the nape of your neck, fingers fervently tangled in your hair, the other cradling your waist. “When I’m with you.”

Another at the curve of your jaw. While his lips are warm, his breath comes out cold between each peck, each word. The conflicting temperatures are both shocking and enticing. 

“I’m tired…” He kisses your cheek for the second time today before pulling back to catch your eyes in earnest. “Of fantasising about it.”

Your faint smile flickers, a fragile torch that illuminates the path he no longer resists. Restraints shed, your breath mingles, and his lips come crashing against your own. It is unlike the nurturing kisses against your skin. In fact, it is anything but gentle; desperately crushing, a confession condensed into a press of mouths. Slender fingers explore the landscape of your lower abdomen, insatiable cartographers drawing maps of mystical lands. Here, he stakes his claim. A low groan echoes deep in his bones and resounds against your equally curious hands.

You suppress a groan of your own as you melt into putty kneaded by Zayne’s precise hands. Lower they go, pulling you closer by the hips, tracing the waistband of your skirt, testing how close to your ass he can get.

The results are in: he can get very close.

His grin doesn’t go unnoticed as his hands dip down with purpose, massaging the plump flesh. You’re hum of content is an addictive contingency. His grip becomes brusquely firm. You kiss him harder. Suddenly, they drop down to your thighs, and the floor disappears beneath you. A sharp gasp of surprise escapes your lips at the loss of support. Instinctively, your hold around his neck tightens, fingers grasping at the fabric of his black button-up.

Zayne’s grip on you is unwavering as he spins you both. Muscle flexes beneath your touch. One arm hooks beneath your knees and supports you effortlessly. The other reaches behind your back, pushing half of his desk’s contents onto the floor in one fluid swipe. Loose paper flutters towards the floor like fragile autumn leaves, settling soundlessly as pens clatter everywhere. The book on dream analysis that you had teased him about reading just last week lands face down with an accusing thud. It faces the ceiling with open pages, displaying the annotation of an electroencephalography. 

When Zayne sets you down on his desk, the action is gentle. The hand that helped to support you pushes apart your knees, allowing him to settle between and press a quick kiss to your lips.

“Sorry,” he says between peppered kisses. “Should I have asked before I did that?”

You chuckle against his mouth. “It’s fine. I’m giving you consent entirely. …Unless it’s something outrageous.” The latter part you add with a teasing tone.

“Is this too outrageous?”

Forehead rested against yours, he looks down to where his hand settles on your thigh. Your legs are spread wide to accommodate him. As a result, your skirt rides up dangerously high. Any higher and nothing would be left to the imagination. Slowly, his hand slides forward, aiming directly for the improper scene. You both watch in silence for a moment as he traces the raised hem, massages your thigh, then retreats slightly, only to repeat himself again and again. He meets a higher milestone each time. The urge to beg for more is debilitating, yet all you can do is shake your head, pathetic in your submission to desire.

When his lips meet yours again, his pace is slow, vaguely cautious, echoing that of his hand. Each kiss grows deeper and deeper, pushing you further back each time. The wooden surface of Zayne’s desk presses into your back before you know it. 

Angling one of your thighs against his hip, he settles over you with a new closeness. You’re skirt is as good as gone. The fabric bunches around your waist as he pushes your thigh up further. Neither of you pays verbal mind to the physical manifestation of his desire that presses against your aching core.

…Were the two of you really about to fuck in his office?

Zayne was always prim and proper. In the way he dresses, in his sophisticated speech, in his profession and borderline-OCD cleanliness. You would never peg him as the type to yield to sinful wants in scandalous places. And yet here you are, arching your back off his desk and accepting the hungry sweep of his tongue. The only thing protecting him from disciplinary action is the ice embedded in the door. You pray that all the times he insisted on his Evol’s temporal durability were not lies.

When his mouth is drawn back to your neck, your eyes flutter open. They adjust strangely to the overhead lights as little spots glitter in your vision. Confused, you squint. Instead of the specks disappearing, their forms refine into tiny snowflakes drifting through the air. They’re too faint to survive long; as soon as they settle in Zayne’s hair and on the desk, they melt into nothingness.

A question is brewing on the tip of your tongue at the sight. Though it’s quickly lost to the uninhabited corners of your mind when his fingers glide over the edges of your panties and directly across your clothed cunt. Your cheeks flare. There’s no hiding the desire that pools between your legs.

“Is this all it takes to get you so wet?” His voice is a purr against your skin.

You pout. As if you couldn’t feel his erection a second ago. “That’s not fair.” 

“What’s not fair is how long it’s taken to get you like this.” A shameful whimper builds in your throat as he circles his fingers with added weight. His free hand creeps over your mouth. “Shhh. You can stay quiet for me, can’t you?”

With wide, begging eyes, you nod with a muffled mm-hmm. Before retracting his hand, he circles above your clit a second time, then a third, testing your obedience. 

The ecstasy that burns beneath your skin from the slightest of touches is obscene. You would think that you’d been trapped in hours of foreplay, denied even the thought of release. But still, it is not enough. The feeling was akin to wearing layers on a cold day, yet still shivering. Like biting into a promising fruit that hasn’t hung from the vine long enough. It just wasn’t right, wasn’t enough. You roll your hips in an attempt to convey as much.

“Impatient?”

Through a sigh, you answer, “Just a little.”

His teeth graze your ear. “Then use your words. What do you want?”

What an unfair question to ask now, with your mind clouded in drunken lust. Articulation was difficult. So was trying to pinpoint exactly what you wanted. There were too many things you could want and not enough words in the dictionary to do them justice. So instead, all you can offer is, “You. I just want you.”

Thankfully, he seems to understand. His fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. Lifting your hips with one hand, he uses the other to shimmy them down to your ankles. A single beat isn’t missed before the adept fingers of a surgeon slide between your folds. His mouth is back on every exposed inch of skin he can find, needy and hot. You hide quiet pants behind a bitten lip. You almost pierce the swollen skin when his fingers finally find entry. 

“Keep quiet,” he reminds you in a soft voice as his index and middle fingers curl. “Only I get to hear you like this, right?”

You nod, eyes fluttering close. But your agreement doesn’t seem to be enough. He catches your rolling head and forces a moment of sobriety. Acknowledgement from every legible medium, including that of your eyes and mouth, is what he truly wants.

“Right, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Yes, Zayne. Just you���just…”

You’re words die out into a sharp inhale as he presses down on your clit.  He pumps in and out in tandem with the exterior pressure, stimulating screaming nerves that turn your knees to jelly and your jaw slack. The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your arousal around his fingers, your bitten-back moans, and the wet kisses trailing from your chest to your jaw, then to your mouth and back. 

A small part of you wishes for him to bite down. To leave a mark that was unmistakably his. But, although you were little more than a stranger to Zayne’s sexual nature, you could almost hear him calling hickies childish.

The steady rhythm he’s set calls for release. Like the sliver of morning light on the horizon, you can feel it approaching, an all-consuming warmth that flutters deep in your stomach and creeps up your legs. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers in an announcement of his skilled work’s reward.

“Right there,” you pant, head rolling, and fingers tugging at his hair. “Don’t stop—“

Except, he does exactly that.

You whine as he retracts his fingers, looking at him with indignation, silently demanding an explanation. Only smugness stares right back. Euphoria sinks back into the confines of your bones at the absence of stimulation. You can barely get out the question of why before he cuts you off.

“Believe me when I say I could please you for hours without question,” he says with a quick kiss before withdrawing to tower before you. “But I don’t know how long we have. I can’t let you have all the fun.”

You’re about to roll your eyes when he raises two glistening fingers to his mouth. His eyes remain trained on you as he glides his tongue over the remnants of your arousal before sucking them clean. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight.

“Sweet,” is all he says, as if he’s describing one of the new desserts sold at the cafe across the street. Your cheeks turn bright red.

Satisfied with the taunt, he reaches for his belt, and suddenly you’re reeled right back in. Your unashamed gaze tracks every movement with hunger as he undoes the buckle, then the button below. When he reaches for the zipper, he averts his eyes. Now it’s his turn to feel shy. The top of his boxers comes into view, followed by a mouth-watering outline of the exact thing you crave.

One hand hovering at the waistband, he settles back over you. A palpable shift in the air has taken place. Gone is the initial display of hunger and desire finally brought to light. In this moment, as he looks down with eyes full of affection, there’s a sense of pure, shared intimacy. Not the exhiliration of stupid decisions or a quick fuck. No. Zayne was not one to hook up with someone on a whim. Nor were you.

“You’re sure about…this?” He asks. The previous displays of confidence are nowhere to be found. You don’t think he can even bring himself to say the word, as if an explicit understanding would chase you away.

“What, having sex with you?” You kiss the tip of his nose with a smile. “I couldn’t be more sure.”

You catch an amused yet curious look on his face before he presses a slow kiss to your lips. Your heart races at the sound of shuffling fabric. Then you feel it. You can’t fight the urge to look.

Zayne holds the entirety of his impressive length in one hand. With ragged breaths, he teasingly drags the red, weeping tip across your folds. At the sight of it in his hold, of the tip circling your clit…You can only hope that he fits. 

“I’ll go slow,” he says quietly. You’re almost unsure if he’s talking to you or himself. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much? If you want to stop at all—“

You try to give him a smile as sincere as possible instead of the giggles that threaten to arise. Nerves are obviously kicking in on his end. Not that you aren’t nervous. God knows you are. But suddenly, he can’t meet your gaze for more than a few seconds, and it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever done.

You quickly cut him off before he can ramble. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

Zayne nods, presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, and sinks into you.

If your senses weren’t already overwhelmed by him, they were now. The stretch aches at first, his sheer size foreign and unforgiving. Your jaw falls slack at the feeling, and a stuttered gasp leaves your lips. Zayne echoes the sound. Slowly, he pushes further with each roll of his hips, acutely aware of the initial shock. He sweeps away stray hairs plastered to your skin.

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, though he quickly begins to lose his coherence. “So good… You feel so…”

He cuts himself off with a low groan, and his head falls to the crook of your neck. Another careful thrust, then another. Finally, he bottoms out...and his teeth sink into your skin.

It takes everything in you not to cry out his name at the overwhelming sensations. Just moments ago, you wrote off the idea of leaving this room with physical reminders. Now, Zayne’s tongue was gliding over the fresh indents of his teeth to soothe the sting. Today was a day for many firsts.

Resisting the urge to sing your praise is becoming more and more of a punishment. You can only hope that the soft whimpers and incoherent strings of ‘yes’s and ‘keep going’s are enough. Zayne muffles his own voice with the press of his mouth to your skin, desperate and low. Where his throat leans against your chest, the reverberation of ecstasy echoes. What neither of you addresses, however, is the lewd, wet slap of skin on skin and each scraping groan of the desk legs in tandem.

When your fingers tug his hair, his tempo becomes sloppy. Heedless and disorganised, like he’s barely holding on. You’re own high is re-emerging from its previous denial. Nothing seems to register anymore, not beyond the connection of your bodies, not beyond this room, not before this moment. Every sense is reduced to your simple need for him. Sensibility no longer exists, like ink bleeding on damp paper, words blurring beyond recognition. What were the ethics of fucking your doctor? Ecstacy. That’s what.

You squirm in his partial hold, hips aching with the gruelling pace. When your eyes flutter and roll, he hums in content, suddenly slowing down.

His face contorts into something reminiscent of sympathy, brows pinched and eyes pooling with an inescapable intensity. “Right there?” 

Each syllable sounds with a deep roll of his hips. When you whimper out a drawled mmh-hmm, he suddenly picks back up. He’s so close, reaching so deep that his pelvis grinds against your clit. You’re an overstimulated mess of tangled limbs and ragged breaths.

“Zayne—“ You’re legs begin to tremble, inner walls fluttering with that telltale sign. “Fuck—I’m going to—“

When you can’t finish the sentence, he captures your slack lips in a messy kiss. 

“I know.” He trails a hand down to draw slow circles into your clit. “I’ll pull out—“

While it was the most sensible course of action, not an ounce of you wanted that. Spurred by a fraction of sobriety, you look up at him and speak solid yet shaky words.

“You can cum inside me.”

Glazed eyes look back, attention caught entirely. Parted lips attempt to form words that are lost to open-mouthed groans. He shudders. “Fuck. Are—are you sure?”

“You know I’m on birth control.” Hiding a devilish grin, you clench around his length. He sinks further into your embrace with muttered curses. Had you ever heard him say such obscene things before? “Please.”

“How could I say no to you, gorgeous?” 

His words are barely more than a whisper, lost to the scrape of the table and slap of skin. You’re shared sobriety is spent in the short exchange. Your head rolls back, nails digging into a clothed back; his teeth graze against the inches of flesh that spill out of your bra, an indicator of delirium. Everything dissapears behind eyes screwed shut. 

The song of sex is threatening to reach its crescendo, each melodic note vibrating through your entire being. Like a tide pulled by unseen moons, a shared pulse that races beyond the confines of mortal flesh. You hold him close in the moment it engulfs you, and despite Zayne’s intoxicating effect, you are suddenly very sure that this is right. The explosion of pressure in your hips that shakes your legs is right. The perfect alignment of your bodies is right. The stuttered moans as he paints your walls white are right.

For a moment, you two bask in a comfortable silence, arms slung around his shoulder and his head in the crook of your neck. When he lifts himself to hover at eye-level, you can’t help the girlish giggle at the sight of his pretty face and that pretty blush. He smiles back, albeit confused.

“What?” He asks as he absentmindedly fixes your hair.

“You’re cute,” you whisper back. 

“Cute?” He laughs. “Wouldn’t be my first pick of words, but I’ll take it—“

Zayne, who leans in to kiss your forehead, stops just a hairs breadth away when a jarring knock sounds. It cuts through the moment like a distasteful dose of medicine. Both your heads whip towards the door as the handle jiggles. Every function in your body stops. But, for the nth time today, your lucky stars seem to align; the embedded network of ice keeps the door firmly shut. 

The relief isn’t long-lived, though. Underwear God knows where, half of Zayne’s desktop scattered on the floor, hair a mess and skin splotched in shades of purple… You cringe at the disgraceful scene. Zayne sighs, fixes his clothes, and momentarily drops down to fish for your underwear—the first step to regaining modesty. When he slips it over your ankles and up thighs glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, he offers an apologetic look.

“That’s my karma for ignoring the time,” he grumbles.

You slide off the desk and into your underwear, aided by his fingers at the waistband. As he sits them on your waist and pulls down your skirt, you reach up to fix his hair. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, as if it truly was your fault. Well…half of the accountability was yours to claim.

“Don’t apologise.” Stealing a quick kiss, he adds, “Trouble.”

He slips from your grasp before you can retort.

From the view of the door, the criminalising array of pens and paper on the floor is mainly hidden, save for maybe an item or two. But even a single paper was evidence enough. Anyone witness to Zayne’s perfectionism would know as much. But by the time you recline in the chair, he’s already reaching for the thawing door handle. His tall frame blocks the view of the hallway as he pulls the door half open.

He nods. “Yvonne.”

Yvonne. Her presence teeters on the precipice of a blessing and a curse. A blessing, given your growing companionship with the kind nurse from Zayne’s division, yet a curse for precisely the same reason. She had the confidence in your connection to claw something juicy out of you in private, no doubt. Considering how often she brings up the gossip between nurses regarding Zayne and your relationship, this was information right up her alley.

Yvonne shifts her weight to the side to peer in the room—an act of curiosity you read clearly. When your eyes lock, the spark you were picturing stares right back. Interesting, her lively eyes seem to say. After wiggling her fingers in a small hello, she turns back to Zayne with a raised brow.

“Everything okay, Dr Zayne?” she asks plainly. The question is anything but plain. “This door was locked.”

Zayne’s grip on the door turns white knuckled. He clears his throat. “Everything is fine. I must have locked it by accident.”

It takes everything in you not to lose yourself to laughter. Zayne’s quick wit would one day be the death of you, but now his lack of sensibility would be the death of him. Yvonne scoffs at his jarringly poor excuse.

“Accident, huh?” Her amused gaze dances between the two of you, painfully knowing behind the war of words. “I see. Maybe be more…aware next time.”

“I will.”

She hums, posture straightening to indicate seriousness. “Well, I brought those files you requested. Sorry for not bringing them earlier—they slipped under my radar.”

“…Right. Yes. Thank you, Yvonne.”

She purses her lips for a moment and regards him with a scrutinising look. Seemingly satisfied, she says, “That’s all. It’s about time you head home, Dr Zayne. You two have fun now.”

With a wink your way, she disappears down the hallway. Zayne is quick to shut the door. You snicker.

“What’s so funny?”

“You ‘accidentally’ locked the door? Good one.”

“…Shut up.”

His words are accusing and gruff, but there’s no bite to them. He crosses the room in a few strides, taking in your features with a new softness. The two of you simply stare for a moment. Almost subconsciously, his fingers reach forward and skim the curve of your neck, following the path of fresh bruises peaking from your shirt collar. 

“Sorry for those…” he murmurs absentmindedly, lost in thought. “I don’t know why I did that.”

You chuckle. “You don’t?”

He hums. “Heat of the moment. Hickies are childish, but I…I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You may think it’s childish,” you challenge, “but I quite like them.”

A huff resembling something between a sigh and a laugh tumbles from his lips as his fingers graze the curve of your cheek. Delicate and loving, he handles you with a softness you could only read about in tragic odes. You meet his eyes with a look you can only hope shows a sliver of your own overwhelming affection. Although, regardless of the ache between your legs and skin flushed with sex, you can’t shake the disbelief. 

When did the quiet boy you shared stolen sweets with on your grandmother’s porch turn into this accomplished man who dictated your every thought? When was the first time you stole a tentative glance at your childhood crush? On the playground, perhaps. Or maybe outside the store that sold popsicles in the ruthless heat of summer. Those were memories you often basked in. Now, you begin to wonder when he first mirrored your shy gaze. 

“So,” he starts quietly, pulling you from the memories of shared smiles with a very current, very real kiss on the forehead. “About that fake date…”

[salthusiast]

Violent Love Language

No Goggles Mark x GDA Agent Female Reader

Summary: After being sent on a quick mission by Cecil, you catch the attention of one of the variants.

Word Count: 6.4k

Invincible Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and blood. Also death (nobody important don’t worry).

“What is going on?!” You hear Cecil’s voice appear behind you. He must really like that teleporter. 

“It appears that multiple versions of Invincible have entered our dimension.” You say, clearing your stack of papers. You know Cecil is going to make you work for that paycheck today.

“No shit, many are we talking?” He asks.

“Sixteen, sir.” You reply, attempting to pull up any cameras you can access on your computer. You pull up the ones from the prison and see some weird Mohawk version of Invincible.

“Huh, well, that’s not what I expected.” You blink, taken aback briefly by the difference.

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like. We need to figure out how to stop them. Get every superhero on the planet out there.” Cecil commands.

You nod, getting ready to notify all the teams Cecil has at his disposal, which is a lot.

“Donald, come with me,” Cecil says, walking toward the door before pausing at the door and calling your name. 

You whip your head toward him, confused if you heard him correctly, “Yes, you come too.” He snaps.

You don’t want to piss him off more than he already is. You can’t imagine that dealing with a crisis like this is very fun. You’re stressed out with your current position, so you can’t imagine being the GDA director. 

“Everybody else, make sure that at least some heroes are trying to stop every single Invincible,” Cecil calls out before turning back toward the door, you and Donald following suit.

“I called you for a special mission. I tried to keep it on the down low as much as possible. However, with current circumstances, I need a favor.” The three of you continue to walk down the hallway. 

You start to feel a little anxious, “Whatever you need, sir. Will it be dangerous?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, “Usually no, but right now potentially.” He sighs. “I am trusting you with this job. It could potentially save millions of lives if you’re successful.”

Geez, no pressure. You feel yourself start to sweat, “If it saves lives, it is worth it. What is it you need me to do, sir?” You ask.

Cecil brings you to a new room, “You’re going to be looking for a black suitcase. In that suitcase, there will be about twenty small devices in there. They’re experimental, but hypothetically, they should be useful in dealing with Viltrumites. They’re portable versions of the chips that we implanted into Mark. They have a working radius of around fifty miles out.” 

You gape at him; you can't help but feel bad for Mark. You don’t know him personally, but he seems to be a good person. Cecil had made these intending to stop this dimension’s Mark, not other ones.

“Judge all you want about it, but it’s our best hope,” Cecil says, grabbing a watch-looking device. You recognize it immediately.

“Sir, where exactly is this located?” You ask, putting on the device.

Cecil looks at you solemnly, “Guardians HQ. If you’re lucky, you can find it and be in and out in five minutes. However, realistically, you’re going to have to pass all the security checks, which require everybody here to approve.” He sighs.

“I won’t lie, kid. There’s a large chance one of these Invincible variants will be there. If that’s the case, we’ll try and get you out of there. We’ll be monitoring from here.” Cecil gestures between himself and Donald.

You nod, “Yeah,” You take a deep breath, “Okay. Wait, so I get to use the teleporter?” You ask, feeling a little excited.

“Yes, you should just be going there and back,” Cecil explains, motioning for Donald to get everything ready.

“This isn’t coming out of my paycheck right…” You admire the watch. It looks simple, but you know this is very expensive. Cecil stares at you unamused. 

“Uh, okay, I’m ready. How does this— OH MY GOODNESS-” You feel yourself stumble as you land in Guardians HQ.

“Woah…” You look around, you haven’t been here before, not being a superhero. “Damn, really wish he gave me some idea of where it could be.” You mumble to yourself.

You look around the vast room, noticing a large desk. “Guess I’ll start here.” You rummage around briefly, not seeing anything catch your eye.

You spend the next ten minutes just trying to find the suitcase. Was Cecil trying to get you killed? He could’ve at least pointed you in the right direction.

Eventually, you find a door; there isn’t anything special about it. You go to see if you can open it. You try to twist the handle, failing miserably. “Oh, come on.” You groan.

You look at the screen on the door handle’s keypad, which requires higher security access. 

You turn around the room, “Uhh, if you guys can hear me, could you maybe unlock the door?” You point at it, feeling stupid.

Suddenly, a loud crash resonates in the room. You immediately try to find cover, but you’re standing out in the open. 

“Ah damn, I thought they’d be here.” You hear Invincible say, but you know it’s not the one you know. 

You slowly try and inch away out of sight. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he won’t see you?

“Cecil, I know you’re watching.” Not Mark announces in a sing-song tone. “Here! Let me get rid of all these cameras for you.” 

You watch as this Mark variant destroys every camera. Damn, you were relying on those. 

You try and see if there are any differences between this Mark and the one you know. He seems to have the older costume. Other than that, there doesn’t appear to be any differences in it. 

You squint, trying to see. Oh, no goggles, that's a choice.

Just as you try and find a spot to cover, you hear him laugh loudly, “Oh, ho! Look who we have here!” He calls your name out. You stiffen. How does he know you?

“It really is you! Damn, I started to actually miss you. I killed you in my world, you were a reallll challenge.” He floats just above you. You feel a little pathetic crouched down beneath him.

“Is that so?” You counter, feigning confidence. Cecil, where are you? You take a quick glance at the watch, hoping it'll activate, but it doesn't.

“Oh yeah, for sure! I was so sad when I killed you. I got you to scream for hours. You lasted so long. It was soooo cool.” He gestures excitedly. You nod as if interested. Keep him busy, somebody’s gotta come eventually.

“How nice.” You reply sarcastically. Not Mark nods enthusiastically, not noticing the sarcasm.

I still remember what you sounded like. “God, I can’t believe I get a second opportunity to do it.” He lands right in front of you.

“Woah, uh, maybe take a step back.” You step back, creating distance. You feel unnerved by the wide grin on his face.

“Oooh, setting up the match, huh? We’re getting serious. Okay, okay, I’ll play along!” He gets into a fighting stance. You stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“For somebody who seemed to enjoy torturing me so much, I’m surprised I’m only the second version to have the honor to fight you.” You can feel yourself start to sweat. You are running out of ways to stall him.

“I know. I mean, I wanted to conquer other dimensions,” He waves a hand casually, “but this is fun too.”

You see a shift in the lighting above. You subtly glance up, finally somebody’s here. You can’t tell who it is, but you can see it’s not an Invincible. 

“Hmm.. yes, fun.” You reply uninterested. “You know what else is fun?” You ask, moving closer.

He starts to grin wider, getting into a more serious position, “What?”

You push him down the stairs, catching him off guard. You got lucky there. If he wanted to resist that, he definitely could’ve. You see the Guardians descend from the ceiling, restraining him.

You look towards the open door, which was locked earlier. You run towards it.

“Hey! AGH!” You hear him get hit. “DUDE IT WAS A ONE V ONE! RESPECT THE MATCH!” You hear him yell across the room. Ha.

You grab the suitcase waiting in the room, watching as the Guardians attempt to knock him unconscious. 

You frown, “You guys need him alive or something?” You ask, watching them beat down on Not Mark.

“Yeah, Cecil thinks he’s our best shot at getting answers.” You hear Darkwing reply. You nod, “Alright then. Not my business.” You start to walk away, “Wait, before I leave, can I do something?"

All the Guardians look at each other, “Sorry, it’ll just take a moment.” You set the suitcase down, taking a heel off your foot. 

You throw it as hard as you can at Not Mark, hitting him dead in the eye. “Hey! What’d you do that for?!” He frowns pettishly.

You grab the suitcase, picking it up again. You adjust yourself before looking him dead in the eye with a straight face, “Fun.” 

You turn around to walk away from the Guardians, feeling the odd sensation of being teleported once again.

All the Guardians watch, flabbergasted. “She’s got guts.” Darkwing breaks it, amused. Immortal nods, “Let’s just knock this guy out. There’s still more out there.” 

Not Mark remains on the floor, awestruck. How did this human come in here, trick him into an ambush, and then have the audacity to hit him? His eyes linger on where you teleported away. 

It was at this moment that he decided he would meet you again.

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

“That was a bold move, kid.” You hear Cecil’s voice. You look up, still nauseous from the teleportation, and his arms are crossed.

“He killed another version of me.” You justify, handing him the suitcase. “Even if I don’t have super strength to beat him up, I wanted to at least hit him for what he did. I would’ve slapped him, but I’m not stupid enough to go into neck snapping range.”

“Whatever," He sighs, "it’s done now. We’ll try and send these out with some teams. They should at least reduce the damage that could be done.” Cecil says, opening the suitcases. He grabs one of the devices.

“What about Mark, sir?” Donald asks, frowning. 

“If you can get in contact with him, tell him to get off the planet. Otherwise, it’s a small price to pay for the greater good. He’ll recover, humanity may not.” Cecil replies. Donald nods and goes back to typing.

Cecil turns toward you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Good work, kid. Sorry that you had to deal with that.”

You shrug, “It’s okay, he didn’t actually get the chance to do anything.” You reply. “What are you planning on doing with him? Are you sure you can restrain him?” You ask, frowning.

“We’re planning on implanting the same chip that Mark had into him. Don’t worry, we have a plan for what to do with him. We might be able to extract some answers out of him eventually.” Cecil sighs. “I don’t even know if we’ll be able to rehabilitate him.” He shakes his head. 

You know this is what Cecil does. While you may find some moral issues in using villains, you know this is how he works. There’s nothing you can do to change that.

You nod, “It’s worth a shot, sir.” You reply. “If we can have two Invincibles out there, that’d be a huge advantage.” 

“Yeah, that’s if he will change. These variants seem pretty set in their ways.” Cecil watches Donald work. “One step at a time. We need to get answers out of him first.” 

You nod, “Probably a good idea.” 

Cecil turns back to you before dismissing you back to your desk, “Thank you for your help.”

You nod, “Of course, sir. Call me anytime.”

—

“You sure he won’t wake up?” Darkwing asks, looking nervously at the body of the unconscious Invincible slung over Immortal’s back.

Duplikate walks up next to them, “I doubt it. If he does, Cecil told us he has a backup. We can also knock him out again.”

“We were lucky. If he wasn’t caught off guard, then we would not have knocked him out. He would’ve killed us all.” Darkwing responds solemnly.

Immortal slides the variant into the special cell that Cecil told them to put him in.

“Thank you, Guardians.” A scientist comes up to them, locking the special prison cell. “You needn’t worry about him escaping. You are free to go.” He smiles. 

The Guardians nod before rushing out of the Pentagon. Cecil walks into the room. “Is he up yet?” He asks.

The scientist shakes his head, “No, sir. We expect he’ll wake up in the next few minutes, though.” He taps his pen on the clipboard. 

“Good, all safety measures have been checked, yes?” Cecil asks. The scientist nods, “Yes, sir. He will not be escaping.” He responds. The two watch as the Invincible starts to stir.

“Agh, my head… Hey, where am I?” He looks around before making eye contact with Cecil. “You seriously think that I can’t escape this?” He sounds amused. He slowly stands up, walking up to the front of his cell. 

“Perhaps, but you will regret your attempts,” Cecil replies, his voice betraying nothing. 

The Invincible variant laughs, taking off his mask. “You had me knocked out, why not kill me?” He puts his finger through the mask and spins it.

“You aren’t in a position to be asking questions.” Cecil narrows his eyes.

The variant suddenly slams into the front of the cell where Cecil and the scientist stand. The scientist flinches back, but Cecil remains still.

“You truly think. I can’t kill you right now?” He laughs. “All it takes is— ARGH!!” He immediately falls down onto the ground, gripping his head. 

Cecil presses the button once again, cutting out the noise playing in the Invincible’s ear. “Like I said, you’re not in a position to be asking questions.” The variant looks up at him, the amused smile gone from his face.

"Now tell me why you’re here,” Cecil demands. 

The variant wipes the blood from his suit, “I’m not tellin’ you shit.” He smears the blood on his fingers to the ground. Suddenly, he says your name, the smile returning to his face.

“What?” Cecil asks, confused. “How do you know her?” He asks.

“Does it matter?” The variant rolls his eyes. “Where is she? I want to talk to her.”

“Sorry to say, we can’t do that.” Cecil didn’t sound very sorry.

The variant clicks his tongue, “Damn, guess you’re not getting a word out of me then.” He leans against the wall smugly.

“You can rot in this cell then,” Cecil replies.

The variant snaps and then does finger guns, “Oooh, so you see, that won’t work.” He laughs loudly. “I mean you’ll die eventually. I have centuries to escape, and trust me...” 

He leans towards the wall, placing his hands against it, “It will not take me a century to escape. You’re lucky if you last a week.” He pushes away from the wall, pacing in his room.

“Now, if you want answers. Bring her. It’s a win-win. I get the girl, you get your answers!” He grins widely, as if that’s a very fair deal.

Cecil sighs.

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

“Uh, what is it you need, sir?” You ask your boss over the phone. 

“It appears that the Invincible variant we captured refuses to answer any questions,” Cecil responds, annoyed, looking over toward the variant, who is grinning with two giant thumbs up.

“Okay..?” You respond, not liking where this is headed.

“I hate to involve you again, kid, but he will only answer questions if you are there,” Cecil replies exasperated.

You are frozen for a moment; this monster almost killed you. Why on Earth could he possibly want to talk to you?

“..Which cell is he in?” You eventually concede. You can hear Cecil sigh in relief. 

“Thank you, he’s in cell two hundred forty-three,” Cecil informs you. 

“I’ll be there in a minute.” You tell him before you hang up. 

You grab all your stuff and begin your long trek to the special prison Cecil has. It’s supposed to be able to withstand anything, but after seeing Omni-Man take a nuke, you aren’t certain.

You eventually get down to that level, and the security asks for your identification. You scan your card before walking in. You see Cecil and Donald standing at the end of the row.

You slowly approach, “There she is! I was wondering if you were gonna show!” You hear Not Mark (at this point, that’s his new name) call. 

“How long do I need to be here for?” You whisper to Cecil. 

“Long enough to figure out why they’re here and who sent them,” Cecil responds, matching your volume.

“You got your wish, now can you answer our questions?” Cecil asks, crossing his arms.

“Mmmm, I don’t know.” He looks at you and frowns. “I thought it was just gonna be me and her.” He looks disappointedly at Cecil.

You and Cecil share a look, you nod at each other, before he looks down shaking his head. “Everybody out! You get ten minutes with her, nothing more.” He states before the area clears out.

You shift uncomfortably, he is just watching you. He seems content just to stare at you. 

“What?” You ask, feeling scrutinized by his stare. He looks up at you, “You’re amazing.” He replies breathless.

You raise an eyebrow, “I’m amazing. After you told me that the other version of me you tortured was one of the best things you’ve done? Hate to break it to you, but I am just a normal person.” You cross your arms, looking at him. “I think you’ve noticed that already.”

He nods, “Of course I have. She was strong, sure, but you. You played me like a fool. When you hit me with that shoe at the end? Way to leave a guy with a cliffhanger.” He mockingly swoons.

You look at him unimpressed. “Very funny. Now we don’t have much time, so please just cooperate and answer these questions. It saves us both trouble.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Of course. What do you want to know?” He sits on the ground, criss cross, looking up at you like you hung the moon.

You ignore his gaze, “Why are you here?” You ask.

“Well… You see, I got into a fight with the Guardians. Oooh, I was so looking forward to actually fighting them. Instead, I met you.” He rests his elbows on his knees, holding his face with his hands.

“I was so enraptured by your presence that I got caught off guard.” He holds his hands out. “Now, I’m in prison.”

You look at him, glaring. “You know what I meant.”

He frowns, “Not big on jokes? We were chatting perfectly fine earlier.” He says to himself. You exhale annoyed.

“Sheesh, just playing! Okay, so this guy, right? He promised me the most fun dimensions for me to take over.” He shifts his weight onto his side. 

“What was his name?” You ask. 

“Angstrom Levy.” He says, and you freeze. “Oh, you’ve met?” He asks.

“Not personally, but I’ve heard stories.” You look down. “What exactly did he ask you all to do?” You ask.

“Eh, something about making everyone here fear Invincible. It seemed like he just wanted chaos, which I didn’t mind one bit.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

“How long are you guys meant to do this for?” You ask.

He shrugs, “Until he says stop, I guess.” 

“And when would that be?” You walk up closer to his cell. He stands up, meeting your gaze. His eyes glance down at your lips.

“I…” He stares at your face, “have no idea.”

You frown, “Helpful.”

“I try to be.” He grins.

You shake your head, rubbing your temples. This is way above your paygrade. “So, let me get this straight: Angstrom Levy brought over a dozen different versions of yourself,” He nods, “and he just told you guys to ‘cause chaos.” 

“Sounds about right.” He starts spinning his mask with his fingers again.

“And in return, he’d give you dimensions to conquer?” You frown.

“Yeeep.” 

“So you have no idea why he wants you guys to cause chaos?” You lean up against the cell. He leans against his cell, too, mirroring your action.

“To be honest, I didn’t particularly care.” He taps his finger against the cell. “But, I do know the me of this dimension did something to piss him off.”

You think back to the whole incident with the Mauler Twins and the other incident where Mark almost killed him. “Oh.” You respond.

“‘Oh?’” He quotes. “You gonna share with the class?” 

“I thought I was the one asking questions.” You look at him.

“And I answered! Come on, throw me a bone here, will you?” He grins at you, looking far more innocent than you know him to be.

You look at him unimpressed. 

“Please?! Come on. There’s nothing fun around here. You’re my only source of entertainment right now.” He leans against the wall dramatically.

“Glad to know I’m contributing to your lack of entertainment.” You respond, detached.

“Aha! There she is! I was wondering if you left all your personality back where we met.” He snaps his fingers and does finger guns at you.

You look at him blankly. “Cecil will be back any moment now.” You begin to walk away.

“Wait, wait!” He calls out, and you pause.

“Will you come and visit me?” He asks, giving you false puppy dog eyes. You know if he wasn’t in that cell, he’d probably kill you.

You scoff but find yourself smiling, “Why, so I can be a source of entertainment for you?” You ask, walking back to his cell. He walks up to where you are, and you both stare each other down.

“Perhaps.” He grins.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look like you’re getting answers out of him.” Cecil walks in. You immediately distance yourself from the cell, breaking eye contact with Not Mark. He doesn’t move from where you two had your little staring competition.

“Forgive me, sir.” You look away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I did get answers, though.” You consciously ignore Not Mark, who is waving at you both to try and get your attention.

“We heard,” Cecil responds dryly, he does sound a bit amused though. He puts his hand on your shoulder, “Thanks for your assistance. Sorry we had to bring you out again for.. him.” You both turn to look at Not Mark, who grins innocently.

“Yeah, no problem.” You say, feeling as if it were very much a problem.

“Wait, Cecil, is she allowed to visit me?” Not Mark asks, butting into your conversation.

“That’s up to her.” Cecil says, at the same time you say, “It’s prohibited.”

You look at Cecil, distressed. “What? It pays to be in his good graces.” Cecil whispers to you.

“Yeah? What’s his good graces? Not breaking out and killing everyone?” You respond frustrated. Cecil raises an eyebrow before looking over at Not Mark. “Fair enough.” You sigh despondently.

“I can hear you two.” Not Mark comments helpfully.

You look at Cecil, and he nods. “You can head back now.”

You nod, “Thank you, sir.” You start to walk away, ignoring Not Mark’s cries of “Wait!” and “Don’t go!”

You walk past the security, giving a nod of acknowledgement. You walk into the elevator.

Once you arrive on the floor, you were supposed to be on (before all of that happened). You sit down at your desk, grabbing your stack of papers you threw aside earlier. 

“How are the Guardians doing, or all the teams for that matter?” You ask your coworker, Bryan, casually.

He groans. “We’ve already seen at least three be eliminated or seriously injured.”

“Teams? Like they killed off entire teams?” You ask, shocked.

He nods, “Yep. Down and out.” He types frantically on his keyboard.

“…Have we managed to kill any of the Invincibles at all?” You ask hesitantly, unsure if you want to know the answer. 

“At the moment? Four.” He responds.

“Oh, that’s more than I expected.” You look around the panicked room. Every person around you is frantically working. Crazy to think that not even 10 minutes ago you were talking to one of those Invincibles while everybody up here was stressing.

“Did you find out any valuable info from the one we captured?” Bryan asks.

“Not much. Levy sent him.” You start to log in to your computer.

“Levy? As in Angstrom Levy?” He asks, flabbergasted.

“Yep.” You pop your lips. “Turns out Mark didn’t kill him.” 

“From what I heard, there was no way anybody could survive that.” 

“Well, apparently he did. He wants revenge on Mark, I think.” You respond.

“Great, so he brought sixteen different Invincibles in order to kill our Invincible.” He sighs, pausing in his typing.

“Eh, basically. Apparently, they won’t stop causing damage until told to by Levy himself.” You tell him. “The captured one didn’t even know when that’d be.”

“Oh, so they could go on until they destroy the world?” Bryan laughs humorlessly.

“Yeah. I have no idea when—”

A loud crash resounds in the room. You and Bryan whip your heads around, looking at the giant hole in the ceiling. You look and see an Invincible floating over the rubble. 

You quickly glance at Bryan before you both scurry out of the room. You start to run out when…

“HOLY SHIT!” You hear him yell. You turn around to look at him, narrowly missing the body that was flung inches in front of your face.

You stare in horror, watching as employee after employee is murdered. You begin to run again. 

“Ugh damn it…” You frantically yank your heels off your feet. You run off to the exit. You, Bryan, and a few other coworkers manage to escape that room, but you can still hear the screams from where the crash was.

“Where is Cecil?!” Somebody asks. You shake your head. “Probably dealing with the other one we captured.” You groan. This Invincible is probably here to break that one out of prison.

“Let’s go, it’s safer in the halls than it is here.” You look at the remaining people, who nod. You start to run out again before the wall on your left explodes. 

“Other way, other way!” You yell, panicked. You push back against the remaining people. They start to head in the other direction. 

“Are all of you guys okay?” You ask. Out of the thirty of you in that room, seven (including you) made it.

“We should’ve just let him go.” You hear a coworker mumble, and everybody turns to look at them. “What? Am I wrong? This never would have happened if we didn’t keep that other one hostage.” You hear some murmurs of agreement.

“We don’t know that. The Pentagon might’ve been a target regardless of the Invincible we kept.” You frown, shaking your head. 

“Yeah? Well, we can’t be too sure, can we? How about we find out, huh?” The worker pushes past you all, heading back into the original room.

“What are they doing?” Bryan asks. You all watch as they run to their death.

Suddenly, static cuts in from the PA speakers: “Cell two hundred and forty-three is open.”

You all sit in silence for a bit before some people in your group begin to sob. 

The door the worker ran into earlier opens, and you all watch as a head rolls through the door. It is the head of that worker.

You all look up in horror. The Invincible variant crushes the head of the worker before looking up. 

You, being in the back, turn in the opposite direction. You think you’ll take your chances with random exploding walls over that. Bryan notices, and you motion him to be quiet, and duck so that the variant doesn’t see you two escape.

You both crouch, walking in the other direction. The group is still back there facing off against that Invincible. Do you feel bad for leaving them there? Yes, but you can’t dwell on it. It’s either all of you die, or some of you die. 

You don’t even hear the screams of them, just the wet slap of their bodies hitting the blood-soaked floor. You flinch, knowing that you two are now in plain view.

“Bryan, Bryan, we have to ru—” You turn to look at your friend, but pause in horror. The variant stabbed his hand right through him. You cup your hands up to your mouth, holding back a sob. You look at the variant before attempting to sprint away. You feel yourself get slammed into the wall, and you let out a soft “Oof!”

You look up in fear, the Invincible’s goggles block you from seeing his eyes. You can feel the tears roll down your face at this point. You don’t say anything, just stare at him silently as he raises his hand to strike you down.

Suddenly, you’re thrown to the ground, out of the Invincible’s grip. You look up.

“Dude, what are you doing here? God, you ruined my whole plan.” Not Mark pouts petulantly.

“I wasn’t aware you were here.” The other Mark replies.

“Well?” He does jazz hands. “I am! Now get out.” 

“Sure, whatever, just let me kill the human first. Angstrom said kill as many as possible.

Within an instant, Not Mark tackles the other one, sending a cloud of dust throughout the entire area. You cough, watching in both awe and horror. You attempt to stand up, but feel a sharp pain in your leg.

“Agh… shit.” You whimper, an action that seems to catch Not Mark’s attention. Within a millisecond, he’s in front of you, “Do you trust me?” He asks.

You blink at him, feeling the gust of wind from him speeding towards you. “Absolutely not!” You suck in air from the pain.

He grins, “Great.” He then grabs you bridal style before blasting into the air.

“OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You attempt to yell over the rushing wind. You feel yourself suffocating, unable to breathe with the high speed and rushing wind.

“Aw shit, forgot humans can’t breathe when I move this fast. You think you can last a little longer?” You hear him ask. You try and nod, but can barely move against the strong force. 

Eventually, you come to a stop, he places you down gently on the ground. “Do not move. Go inside that building, I’ll be back shortly.” He points to a relatively run down looking building.

“What?! Where did you drop me off-” You watch him speed off back into the sky. “Unbelievable!” You yell out to nobody. Who is going to believe this happened to you today? Nobody! 

“I’m not waiting here, asshole.” You grumble to yourself.

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

You sigh, waiting inside the building.

“How long is his definition of ‘shortly'? It’s been days.” You lean your elbows on your knees. 

Luckily, despite its run down appearance the place Not Mark dropped you off at has running water and food. 

It took you a while to actually try and consume any of it, but you decided that you didn’t want to die in the middle of nowhere. You’ll take your chances. Worst-case scenario, Cecil pays for your healthcare. He is the one who put you in this situation anyway.

Suddenly, the door gets thrown open. You jump back into the corner of the room you’re in. You hear Not Mark call your name.

“Hellooo? Anybody here?” You hear him approach you before looking directly at you. “There she is!” He walks up to you.

You grimace in disgust, looking at him. He’s covered from head to toe in blood. 

“What’s wrong?” He frowns. “Do I have something on my face?” He asks.

You look him up and down again, “Blood.” You respond disgustedly.

He blinks, confused, “You don’t like the blood? I thought you’d like it.” He looks at the ground as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “I’ll be right back.” He zooms out of the room, the door shutting itself behind him.

You look at the spot he was just at, unimpressed. Suddenly, the door opens again, and his suit is clean. You furrow your eyebrows, “How’d you clean it?” You ask.

“Flew to space and back. It comes off.” He mentions casually, as if that’s normal. “Anyway, ready to head home?” He grins, looking at you, holding his arms out ready to carry you. 

You look at him, suspicious.

He rolls his eyes, “Oh come onnnn. If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done that way earlier.” He raises a hand and waves it back. At your horrified expression, he elaborates, “I mean like… You know what I mean. I don’t want you dead. I kinda went out of my way to make sure you didn’t die.” 

You nod, “Oh, yeah, okay… So I should just let you whisk me to who knows where.” You feign calmness.

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugs before grinning widely. “OOH, unless you want to give me your address.”

You stare at him, trying to discern whether he is serious. He stares back, smiling, looking like a dog begging for a treat. 

“No!”

“Worth a shot.” He sighs dejectedly. 

He carries you back, flying a lot slower this time, but still fast enough where you can’t bring yourself to talk in fear of choking on air or on a bug.

You feel him gaze at you a couple of times and pointedly ignore his stare. Suddenly, he pauses, slowing to a stop mid-air. “What’s wrong?” You ask, panic growing. 

You see him groan before throwing out some earpiece in his ear. “Oh, they didn’t take that out when you entered the Pentagon?”

“I don't know, I should be asking you that.” He leans down to your ear. “Hold on tight.” He whispers.

“What? OH MY—” You see him attack something. It explodes in the air. You both watch the debris fall onto the earth.

“What was that?” You ask, unsure if you want to know the answer. 

“Angstrom.” He says, pulling you closer before flying back where he was originally headed. 

You go the rest of the flight in silence. It wasn’t like you could talk if you wanted to. The wind made it difficult.

“Andddd we’re here. Wow, we really did a number on this place.” You look down, seeing half the Pentagon decimated. 

Out of nowhere, ReAnimen jump up into the sky. Not Mark drops you out of surprise. You feel yourself fall, closing your eyes and bracing for the impact. God, was this finally it? After everything you survived today?

A pair of arms catch you, and you open your eyes to see the singular red light of a ReAniman. You try to lean back away from the undead creature. You know they work for Cecil, but it doesn’t mean that you have to like them.

“Oh, good you’re alive. How’d you live?” Cecil asks. You feel yourself questioning for a moment if he is actually happy to see you alive. You turn toward Not Mark. He is fighting the ReAnimen. 

“Woahh, I never fought these guys in my world. They’re kinda fun.” He slams five of them using the body of one he already killed. “I killed you before you got the chance to create them, but man, Cecil. Good stuff.” He hovers over them.

“He saved me.” You tell Cecil, not exactly sounding enthusiastic.

He raises an eyebrow, “From the other one that came?” He asks, you nod.

“Hm…” He pauses, looking at the ground before pointing at you suddenly.

“What?” You whisper.

All the ReAnimen slowly turn their heads toward you. “Wait, Cecil, what are you doing?” You ask, panic growing. He looks at you coldly. “Cecil…” You try again.

Not Mark, noticing the lack of new opponents looks down. He spots you getting circled before he immediately dives in and lands right behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” He asks coldly. The grin on his face from the fight earlier is nowhere to be seen.

Cecil suddenly holds his hand up, and all the ReAnimen halt. “I see.” He says to himself. He says your name, “I apologize for my actions just now. I just had to…” He looks at Not Mark, “test something.” 

You look at Not Mark and then Cecil. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking what I’m thinking.” You look at Cecil in disbelief.

“What is it?” Not Mark asks right behind you. You step forward to create some distance between you two, and he steps forward to compensate.

“Say, how about you work for the GDA, Mark?” 

You and Not Mark both gape at Cecil before both of you simultaneously cry out:

“Are you SERIOUS?!”

“Oooh.” Not Mark laughs loudly. “Yeah, absolutely not. Why would I ever work for you?”

Cecil looks at you, his eyes seem sympathetic, yet unapologetic. “You can work with her.” 

So now here you are. Watching an evil version of Invincible shake hands with Cecil Stedman. The deciding factor? Getting to work with you. Truly, you’d feel flattered if it were anybody else.

“Soooo we’ll be in contact?” Not Mark grins at you, leaning into your personal space. You step away from him, but he follows.

“Kill yourself.” You deadpan. 

He smiles wider, and you know he heard it. “Now, is that how you talk to the person who saved your life? Oh, and your new coworker.” He removes his mask.

You feel your eye twitch. Is this seriously your life now?

“Why the long face?” He mocks your traumatized expression before breaking character and laughing loudly. “Come on, let’s get to work!” He floats up, flying in circles around you in the air like a hyperactive dog. 

“This is my life now.” You tell yourself, Not Mark nods because of course he heard you.

“Our life now.” He grins at you. 

You groan.

Quick A/N: Yes, yes, I'll get back to writing for Viltrumite Mark. Unless you guys want more of this. Either way Viltrumite Mark pt 3 is up next :D

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day five.

Thigh riding (1k words)

summary: Lando is too busy to help you relieve what you are feeling, but he lets you take care of yourself on his thigh.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, needy!reader, bit of mean!lando

It was a quiet day in your shared home, but not the type you enjoyed. You were both home, and today was supposed to be your designated lazy day, given that Lando didn’t have a race coming up this week and you were taking a few vacation days to be with him. 

However, something related to work always dragged Lando into his office; you were just hoping that wouldn’t happen this time. But it did. 

You were in your room, bored out of your mind, trying to find something to entertain yourself with — anything, but nothing would work quite as well as your boyfriend did. After realising you wouldn’t find something on your own, you decided to join him in his office.

When you opened the door and came in, you made sure to be as quiet as possible to not disturb whatever was so important it couldn't wait another day. He was supposedly going over some important emails regarding a new helmet design for one of the upcoming races.

He looks so good when he is focused, you thought, and the fact that he was only wearing a black tanktop and matching shorts didn’t help your growing needy state. 

You knew that what he was doing was important and that some of these things had to be done by midnight so the design could be approved by the sponsors in time, so there is no way he was stopping. You were very aware of that, but you also needed him. 

Lando started feeling a little too cocky as he realised how needy his girlfriend was feeling, so maybe there was something he could do. Maybe not helping you as you were hoping, but a little teasing could be fun. For him, at least.

“Are you okay in there?” He asked after you shuffled on the couch for the millionth time since you got there. 

“Are you almost done?”

“No, baby.”

“But I need you.” You blurted out, not caring how pathetic that sounded. 

“Not now, Y/N. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Please, I’ll be quick.” You begged. 

He didn’t even look at you, and he was trying hard to suppress that smirk that was threatening to appear on his face. Lando maintained his composure and acted like he was considering it, even though that was his plan all along.

“Fine, but you will take care of it.”

“What? I don’t wanna play with myself-”

"You can ride my thigh," he said, interrupting your failed attempt to seduce him. Your heart completely stopped when you heard those words come out of his mouth. 

“What?” You asked, and Lando simply repeated himself.

“I said you can ride my thigh. This is the best you will get, so make up your mind. And no touching, sweetheart.”

You made your way to where Lando was sitting, admiring the way his exposed thighs looked in those shorts. You would have said no and tried to beg for more, for him, but like Lando said, that was the best you were gonna get with how busy he apparently was, so you decided against it.

You slowly sat on his lap, placing your centre on his right thigh. Lando didn't even look at you; he just raised his eyes over your shoulder to keep working on his computer, making it clear to you that he meant it when he said you would take care of it.

Shyly, you started rolling your hips, eyes closed as your mouth let out soft moans every so often, but as the pleasure began increasing, so did your pace. 

Damn, he couldn’t deny how absolutely beautiful you looked riding his thigh, and as much as he tried to block out how needy he was starting to feel, he failed miserably. 

You hands gripped his shoulders for stability, but eventually they slowly travelled down his torso, finding the hem of his shorts. The plan was to slide one of them into his boxers and help him with his hardening cock, but he immediately stopped you, slapping your hands away and placing them back on his shoulders. 

“Stop. No touching, remember? Just take care of yourself.” You nodded and went back to work.

As you continued grinding him, he could feel his thigh covered in your arousal, filthy wet, and slick noises echoing through the small office. You left wet kisses on his neck and shoulders, your lips letting out more and more whimpers when he didn’t stop you as soon as you started devouring his thick neck, moaning even louder when you noticed him swallow hard. 

Lando tried his best to focus on the words in front of him, but having you being a complete mess literally on top of him made it hard, and it made him hard. It took his full strength and self-control to ignore his painful length and not ask you to take care of it like you tried a few minutes ago, but that somehow made it hotter for him.

You were getting close, and the sounds that left your mouth were making less sense, his name slipping out a few times, and just as he knew you were reaching your high, he couldn’t help it anymore, so he dropped everything and gripped your hips, guiding your movements.

“That’s it.” His forehead was damp with sweat, and there were a few strands of hair sticking to it, a single drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. Lando’s touch made you feel more electric as he helped you quicken your pace, desperate for a release. “Come on, baby,” He whispered, making you give in.

Your entire body was shaking as your nails dug into the soft skin of his shoulders, gradually stopping as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good job. You can go now,” he said in a serious tone. You struggled to get back on your feet, but as soon as you did, your eyes went straight to Lando’s thigh, glistening in your arousal.

↺ back to navigation — Kinktober masterlist

[strawberrysands]

Spencer Reid x Reader: he gets shot.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: Reader is Spencer’s secret girlfriend and works at the hospital when he gets shot.

Warnings: mentions of blood, getting shot (not reader), guns, fluff, a little angst, not proofread

Word count: 1.4k

I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. God, it’s been a long day. You look at your watch and groan; another three hours were left on your shift?

I turn my head as I hear a chuckle next to me, seeing my coworker raise her eyebrows at me.

“Long day?” She asks me.

“You have no idea.” I sigh. “I have touched way more bodily fluids today than I ever intended to in my entire life.”

She chuckles and shakes her head at me. “At least you got someone waiting for you at home.”

I can’t help the blush that appears on my cheeks as she mentions Spencer. Sure, we’ve been together for a while now, but it never got old.

My phone buzzes and I open it, smiling to see a text from Spencer: “We’re heading out now, should be back tonight. Don’t wait up for me ;)”

I quickly reply with a “Stay safe xxx” before returning to the computer in front of me. Those last three hours would feel like days at this rate.

--

An hour or so later, a message over the PA grabs my attention.

“Any available staff, please head to the emergency bay. Male, GSW to the neck.” So I was getting some action tonight.

But oh, I wished I wouldn’t. My eyes grow wide as I recognize who was being reeled in on a stretcher.

“Spencer!” His name had left my mouth before I could stop myself. I rush over to him, putting pressure on his wound.

“His pressure’s dropping!” 

A tear rolls down my cheek as I hear those words, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. A hand gently pushed me back, struggling against my attempts to get back to Spencer.

“Stop.” Another nurse says. “You’re too close to this. You’re no help in this state.”

I know he’s right, but my heart said otherwise. I stop struggling as Spencer gets reeled into surgery, my arms going limp at my sides as I watch helplessly.

I hadn’t even noticed the people he came in with, since I had never met his team. Their glances my way went unnoticed.

--

My knee bounces as I check the time over and over again.

“Hey.” I look to my right, seeing a woman with colorful clothing and glasses smile kindly at me. “He’ll be alright.”

I nod, not noticing in my own stress how she said ‘he’ or how she seemed to try to convince herself of those words just as much as me.

I shoot up out of the chair I was in when I recognize Spencer’s surgeon come out.

“Is he alright? Is he-“

He interrupts me before I could continue. “He’ll be okay. The surgery went alright. He’s in room 102.”

I can’t help myself as I quickly throw my arms around him. “Thank you.”

The team watches as I quickly make my way to his room.

“Who was that?” Emily asks, but she doesn’t get an answer. The whole team was just as confused as she was.

--

“Did they check your vitals again?” I’m frantic as I check them myself, not waiting for Spencer to answer. “Did they-“

Spencer grabs my hand, pulling me back into the chair beside his bed. “Look at me. I’m okay.”

I quickly shake my head as I sit back down and grab his hand in mine. “You were shot, Spence. You could’ve-“ I cut myself off as I notice the tears that start to well up in my eyes.

“Just- don’t ever do that again.” I kiss his hand, earning a smile from him that I return.

Our moment was cut short when a nurse enters, not even glancing at us as he goes to Spencer’s IV.

“He had antibiotics an hour ago.” I say, frowning at the syringe in his hand. He takes a look at the chart, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t say so here.”

I quickly realize just what type of antibiotics are in the syringe, just as Spencer does.

“Hey, I can’t have those.” He starts, reaching for the nurse. “I have a severe reaction to those, it’s all in the chart-“

When he completely ignores him, I get up. “Hey, stop!”

Just as I grab the nurse’s hand and push it away, I hear Spencer yell. “He has a gun!”

My eyes grow wide as I realize Spencer was right, seeing it just as the nurse pushes me to the floor. I scoot backwards as I stare right down the barrel of the gun. I hear Spencer yell something and commotion outside the room, footsteps coming closer. Just as the man’s hand curls around the trigger, I shoot forward in a moment of bravery.

The sound of the shot has my ears ringing, but the bullet hits the floor just as I grab his legs, tackling him to the floor and kicking the gun away. I’m breathing heavily, wether from the shock or adrenaline, I didn’t know. My hand connects to the man’s face just as the door opens, a rather panicked stern man coming in, other people right on his tail.

I see his lips move but don’t hear him say anything, the ringing too strong. I turn to Spencer to see if he’s alright, finding his eyes already on me. He, too, was saying something as he reached for me, his hand cupping my face.

“Hotch, get him out of here.” I hear Spencer say, my hearing slowly coming back. The stern man from earlier handcuffs and escorts the man out of there, the others behind him staying at the door.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks, his eyes scanning my face for any sort of injury. I cover his hand on my cheek with my own, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I’m just, uh, I-“ I ramble. “I’m okay.”

“I hate to interrupt, but uh-“ I turn around to see the voice coming from one of the people still at the door, black hair adorning her face as she motions to the two of us.

“Oh, yeah, I really wished you would’ve met under different circumstances, but,” Spencer starts, before motioning from me to the others, “this is my team. Emily, Derek, Rossi, JJ, Garcia, Hotch – this is Y/N, my, uh, girlfriend.”

A few looks of shock pass over their faces as I wave at them, a shy smile on my face.

“I really wanted you to meet her, I did, but it’s-“ Spencer starts explaining, but the man called Rossi cuts him off.

“It’s alright, kid. We understand.” He smiles kindly.

“Damn, pretty boy. I’m proud of you.” Derek says, smiling widely at his friend and winking at me.

“Shut up.” Spencer groans, and I can’t help but chuckle. He was never going to hear the end of this.

“You really pack a punch.” Emily says to me, referring to the man whose nose was probably broken.

“Oh, it was probably just the adrenaline.” I say, getting slightly flustered at all the attention.

“Girl, you broke the guy’s nose. That’s impressive.” The blonde woman, JJ, smiles at me.

“Now, everyone get out. I’d like to have my girlfriend to myself, before all of you steal her from me.”

Spencer’s statement earns a round of chuckles from everyone, before finally leaving the two of you alone.

His thumb runs soothing circles across your bruised knuckles, smiling at you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I know.” I say, grinning. “Your team seems nice. The guy in the suit, Hotch, could loosen up a little though.”

Spencer laughs at that, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to tell him for years.”

I lean forward, gently brushing your lips against his.

“I love you.” I whisper, feeling Spencer smile against my lips.

--

“He better not let her go.” Rossi says, all of the team watching you through the window.

“How did he not tell anyone for so long? If I had a girlfriend that pretty, I would be boasting about it.” Garcia huffs, shaking her head.

Derek chuckles. “Yes, you would, baby girl.”

Hotch clears his throat. “Don’t you think we’re a bit creepy, just watching them through the window?”

Emily shrugs. “Probably. But they’re too cute, I’m not leaving.”

[marksbear2]

Hey bear I have a request if you don’t mind but how about Steven with a gamer bf. So bf has been playing a lot and Steven wants some attention which leads to Steven trying to talk dirty into his ears. Which leads to him grinding on his legs to still gets his attention which then leads to him riding riding reader and overstimulating himself in the process.-🐻‍❄️(50%)

STEVEN GRANT X GAMER MALE READER

Heyy, And no I don’t mind at all thank you for requesting!! I missed writing for Steven so I’m back to my roots.

⚠️Warnings!! PRETTY LONG Overstimulation, riding, jerking off, blowjob, multiple orgasms, needy Steven, dirty talk, making a mess, detailed sex. And etc.⚠️

Steven hated the constant loop of his distracted boyfriend. He didn’t know if he was either being dramatic or clingy. Y/n always in the corner of the room at his gaming set up playing video games with his friends.

Steven could even wake up from a nap and his boyfriend would still be playing. The only time Y/n wasn’t playing was when he was at work or on the phone with the said friends.

The Brit craved for Y/n’s touch and attention again. Every time Steven made a attempt to grab Y/n’a attention it was the same. “After I finish this match,” or “In ten more minutes.” It was excuse after excuse and Steven was so tired of it.

Today Steven came back from work it was a real hard day at the museum and he wanted nothing more then just to be in his boyfriend’s arms.

He came through the apartment just about to announce himself but once he reached the bed, he only saw Y/n sitting in his gaming chair with his headphone mic on playing some popular game as he talked and laughed with them. Steven really hated seeming clingy, but he hated those friends. They would all playfully flirt with one another and make dirty jokes. Steven even saw once Y/n using his character to kiss his friend’s own character.

Steven walked over to Y/n and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. “Y/n…hey i-I’m home.” Y/n looked at Steven and smiled before softly pressing his lips to Steven’s cheek as an small greeting. But that small bit of affection wasn’t enough for Steven. He craved and desired more.

Steven walked over to Y/n’s desk and stood behind him, Y/n, who was focused intently on his computer. They had been a couple for a few months now and Steven loved Y/n with all of his heart, but sometimes, he felt like he came in second place to those Y/n’s online friends and video games. "Hey honey," he spoke softly, wrapping his arms around Y/n’s neck. Y/n hummed a bit in acknowledgment, but his eyes were glued to the monitor.

“But it was thinking we could have a little cuddle…?” Steven mumbled not letting go of Y/n’s sleeve. Y/n just ignored Steven and went back to playing the game. Steven slightly huffed at his attempt being ignored so bluntly. 

Steven hugged him wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Steven held Y/n tightly laying his head against him wanting to get his boyfriend’s.

After an moment of Steven trying to get Y/n’s attention Steven decided to step it up a notch. He was determined to get his boyfriend’s attention.

Steven moved Y/n’s headset and moved close to his ear. “Y/n…Y/n darling please…I miss you…I’ve been so lonely.” Steven whispered in his ear. Y/n merely glanced at him before looking back towards his computer. Steven had to suppress himself from letting out a pout. 

“Y/n please…I need you so bad. I want your eyes on me.” Steven said in another whisper, Steven pressed himself against Y/n wanting to get closer and closer.

 Steven could tell this was affecting Y/n. The way Y/n was slowly moving his mice around trying to listen to Steven’s words as he also tried to listen to his friends words that was in his other ear.

“Don’t tell me you choosing them over me…they don’t give you any pleasure like I do, I’m the one who’s in your bed every night not them…you love me don’t you?

Steven whisperd kissing and breathing into Y/n’s ear as he slowly began to move his crotch against Y/n’s own. Steven use one of his hands to hold Y/n’s cheek holding him close.

“I want you…I need you….I missed being in your arms so much.” Steven said as he rubbed his crotch against. Steven  whispered continuing to grind against Y/n legs.

While grinding himself onto Y/n, Steven hand traveled from Y/n’s shoulders down to Y/n’s sweats, he moved his hand inside and into Y/n’s boxers touching and stroking Y/n’s cock. Y/n let out a soft gasp as he kept his eyes on the computer. The Brit stared into Y/n’s eyes wanting to make eye contact with his boyfriend. Steven pulled the sweats and boxers down so Y/n’s cock was on full display. 

Steven leaned down and began to lick and suck onto Y/n’s cock. He swirled his tongue around licked the base until Y/n’s hard cock was wet.

Steven put one hand onto the base of Y/n’s cock as he gave a long lick onto the cock licking and kissing under the cock striding his tongue to the balls all the way to the tip. He moved his tongue around the silt of the cock. He gave teasing and affectionate licks to both sides of his cock making sure no place is untouched before finally wrapping his lips around it.

Since Steven didn’t want to start off to fast he sucked around the tip and used his hand to jerk off the rest of Y/n’s cock that he didn’t have his lips around. He pushed the cock around his cheeks and swirled it around his tongue as he looked up at Y/n.

Steven pulled his mouth away and used his hand to jerk off the now wet cock as he pulled down his own pants and boxers. As Y/n finally looked away from the screen he brought his fingers to Steven’s mouth carefully pushing them inside to get them all wet and soaked so he could prep his boyfriend. Steven licked and sucked around Y/n’s fingers coating the and making the wet.

Once Y/n decided it’s enough he pulled his fingers away and reached down in between Steven’s legs until he was met with his hole and slowly pushing one finger inside stretching out his boyfriends hole. Steven’s breath hitched as he moaned softly holding Y/n’s shoulders. Y/n moved and entered another finger fingering his boyfriend’s hole. Steven was bent over Y/n’s legs as he was getting fingered.

Steven was letting out heavy and cracky moans, with Y/n using his free hand to be in his computer and talking to his friends.

Steven lost track of time, the only thing he was making attention to was Y/n and the pleasure his boyfriend was causing him. 

After once Steven was prepared enough Y/n pulled his fingers out, Steven quickly crawled into Y/n’s lap and aligned himself to Y/n’s tip.

Steven lowered himself down on the cock himself. Steven started out slow breathing heavy and letting out a few moans under his breath as he went down on his cock. Y/n held his hips to keep him steady. With a deep breath Steven wanted to get it out the way and pushed himself down onto Y/n’s full cock at once causing him to let out a loud moan.

Y/n covered Steven’s mouth quickly praying quietly that his friends didn’t hear. “Sorry about that guys, I was watching a video on my phone.” Y/n said into his mic trying to laugh it off as Steven bounced on his cock.

Once Steven got used to it he raised his hips up before pushing himself back down. He did it in a slow motion, his ass jiggled with every moment. Steven was breathing heavy as he began to pick up his movements.

Steven bounced up and down onto Y/n’s cock holding onto Y/n’s desk as support as he rode it. Lince started to mumble under his breath probably about how thick and big Y/n’s size was.

Y/n sat back and held Steven’s hips making sure he won’t fall back. His cock was throbbing with each movement. Steven’s own cock was moving up and down as well as he rode him. Steven’s cock was leaking precum as he rode Y/n’s cock like some bunny in heat.

Steven used one of his hand’s and jerked himself off as he began to moan louder as Y/n’s cock began to hit and brush against his prostate. Y/n muted himself on his computer as he held Steven’s waist pushing Steven up and down.

Steven continued to bounce and ride on his cock faster and faster as if Y/n’s tip was glued to Y/n’s prostate. Lince felt like he was on cloud nine has he rode his cock jerking and stroking himself faster and faster as he felt his climax nearing. He loved how he felt so full and stuff with Y/n’s cock. Both men were in too much bliss and pleasure to not be focused on what’s going on whatever that was going outside of the room. 

With a few more bounces Y/n watched his boyfriend shoot his long white streaks of cum onto his desk and laptop. Y/n reached his hand out and covered Steven’s mouth helping him stay quiet.

Y/n pulled out and softly guided Steven off his cock and off his lap making Steven stand up. Steven’s mind was still cloudy from pleasure but Y/n just pushed Steven against the desk and thrusted his full cock back inside. Steven was moaning as his cock was dripping cum.

Holding Steven’s hips Y/n thrusted fast and deep inside his boyfriend. Steven gripped back held the desk as he was getting pounded into.

With Y/n’s cock pushing and hitting his prostate Steven came for 2nd time, Steven shot his load again on Y/n’s keyboard and some landing onto the computer. After a few more thrust and deep grunts and groans Y/n cums deep inside Steven’s walls. Y/n kept thrusting to burry his deep seed inside of Steven.

Steven leaned back into Y/n breathing heavy and moaning, Y/n reached down and began to jerk Steven’s cock overstimulating him more.

“Since you wanted my attention so badly here you go…let’s see how many times can you cum until you can’t no more.”

THE END

[springgirlshowers]

Begrijp je me?

Summary: You’ve got a problem with going quiet when you’re upset. Joost has a solution of comforting you.

WC: 1029

When you got annoyed or angry with someone or something, you had a tendency to go quiet.

Whenever a person would piss you off or you couldn’t get something to work the way you needed it to, you would completely shut down.

Whatever it was; multiple rude customers at work, cancelled plans you were actually looking forward to, arguments, being late to something, your computer or phone constantly glitching out, having a stressfully busy day, etc.

You’d end up talking to anyone for hours, usually just sitting alone, going on your phone or reading or watching your favorite show to make you feel somewhat better.

Of course, you would talk about it, going on rants about whatever pissed you off. However, Joost would never push you into talking about whatever bothered you when you didn’t want to. He knew it would only make you angrier.

And he understood. Even when he was the one who pissed you off and you gave him the silent treatment, he understood. He’s gotten like that before too.

So, he’d just leave you alone and try not to ask you too many questions, knowing all you wanted was complete silence.

Today you had a particularly stressful day. You ended up nearly missing an important appointment, your manager was getting all on your ass at work, you accidentally burnt your hand, and got yelled at by a customer.

As soon as you got home, Joost knew you didn’t have a good day with the way you slammed the door shut, kicked your shoes off, threw your bag down, and marched into the bedroom.

You changed out your work clothes and into pajamas even though it was only three o’clock. Sitting for a moment on the bed to try and calm down a bit.

While you changed, Joost noted this should be the time to put in earbuds while he worked on and edited his latest music video. Making sure the volume wasn’t loud enough to the point you could hear it coming out his earbuds.

You came out the room and flopped down on the other side of the couch, Joost and you looked at each other. You only shook your head with a scowl on your face, rubbing your hands down your face.

This was your quiet communication that you were having a shitty day, that you felt like shit. He gave you a sympathetic frown.

You opened your phone and he went back to his laptop. You scrolled through your apps for a while. Joost decided this was his moment to try and attempt to cheer you up just a bit.

He sent you a silly cat meme he saved earlier on Instagram. He secretly waited and watched you open the notification, letting you watch the video.

Some relief washed over him when he saw the way your lips curled up at the meme, seeing you double tap the screen and like it.

He smiled to himself, going back to the laptop sitting on the small table in front of him.

It was a few more minutes before you put your phone down, crawling over to him on the couch and snuggling into his side. He welcomed you, wrapping his arm around you.

He took one earbud out, looking at your face.

“Feeling any better?” He squeezed your arm.

“A bit. Still annoyed somewhat.” You muttered out.

“Bad day at work?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He tried to keep the questions to a minimum.

“Not really. I think I’ll just get mad again. Maybe later.” You shuffled closer to him, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Is this the Antwoord music video?” You lazily pointed to his laptop, trying to turn your attention away from your frustration that was still lingering.

“Yeah, I’ve got a little bit of the editing for it done. I’m trying to finish it before Saturday.” He said happily.

“Can I see?” You asked, preparing for him to say no. You knew he didn’t like to show anything to anyone until he had it exactly the way he wanted.

But he felt bad that you were upset, if it took your mind off your frustrations, then he’d show you the bit he had done.

“It needs some work.” He unplugged his earbuds from the computer, scrolling back to the beginning of the video.

The repeated lyrics felt like punch in the gut.

Begrijp je me? Begrijp je me?

Begrijp je me of begrijp je me niet?

Joost understood you so well. He could read you like a book. Sometimes Joost was a bit of a closed book. But you still knew things that he would share with no one else.

You hoped he knew you understood him as much as he understood you.

By the end of the hook he paused the video, signaling that’s all he had done.

He looked at you nervously, waiting for your rating of it.

“I liked it, I think it’s just fine.” You gave him a smile, his heart fluttered knowing your bad mood was melting away by the second

“Really? Or are you just saying that because you’re my girlfriend?” He mumbled, you rolled your eyes playfully.

“It’s very fast. Fast paced, I like it.” You nodded, head shifting against his shirt. “You looked cute in it too.”

“I always look cute to you.”

“Cause you are!” You exclaimed. Joost felt flooded with relief, seeing that your annoyed mood was taken over by contentment.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna keep working on it, are you okay if I don’t keep the earbuds in?” You nodded against his chest.

You watched as he edited clips, playing them over and over, rearranging them, and adding effects.

Your eyelids became to feel heavy, you kept yawing.

“I’m gonna take a nap.” You mumbled. You shifted down a bit, laying your head down on his lap. He moved the small table his computer was to the side, giving you space for your head.

He brushed a hand through your hair, stopping a little bit after he noticed you passed out, lips slightly parting and chest going up and down smoothly. He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head and letting you sleep.

[himbo-kuto]

spoilers! this is based of caleb’s story line in abyssal chaos, some dialogue from the game is included.

wavering heart - love and deepspace (if you go into the lads soundtrack playlist, every song after wavering heart also hurts while reading this! :D)

“cut the shit caleb.”

the inkling suspicions that you’ve been having this whole mission have finally bubbled over as you watched him meticulously tap away at the control room’s computer. his expression remained calm as he continued to pull up a bunch of files. 

“are you here as caleb? or as the farspace fleet colonel who must carry out a mission?”

“what do you mean?” he responded, turning his attention toward you. you squinted your eyes in disbelief. there was no way he was trying to play innocent with you right now.

“what do i mean? do you want me to list off every single weird instance that’s happened today?” his expression was neutral, but you could tell that his jaw was clenched. you held up your hand, holding your pinky to begin counting them off.

“first off, that badge you had when you searched the closet that you said you “put there yourself–”

“i wasn’t lying to you–”

“that’s not the fucking point, caleb!” he immediately shut his mouth, surprised by how you were speaking to him. your jaw clenched as you attempted to take in a deep breath to calm down. this man who you claimed to know your whole life felt like a complete stranger inthis moment…maybe you never really knew him at all. 

“you 'luckily' found this elevator down to this basement, you led me into this control room and had the key to it.” you started to spiral. all the thoughts that you pushed aside were now coming to the forefront, and they were all screaming at you. he didn’t join you on this mission as a friend who was worried about you, he joined you as colonel caleb. he knew that you were going on this mission and did his research beforehand. the layout, the offices, the keys, the guard– he was already 10 steps ahead of you and he just played along with your antics. 

you felt your throat beginning to close and the tears stinging the corners of your eyes as the confusion began to take over. you opened your mouth to speak but the words refused to come out. caleb was watching you the whole time and while yes, this was his agenda the whole time, he never took into account that you would find out. he reached out to you but you backed away from him, lightly knocking his arm away.

“please caleb…” your words could barely be heard over the whirring of the computers in the room. he wanted to be swallowed whole. he’s seen you look at other people this way, but never at him. a look of pure confusion and hurt, all on his part. he put out his arms with caution, trying to explain himself.

“my goal has always been the same as yours: to bring peace to this place.”

“yes caleb, but at what expense? going behind my back? lying to me and telling me that you were worried about me–”

“i've never lied about being worried about you.” he was firm in this statement. it may have seemed like something he said in the moment, but caleb was always genuinely worried about you and your safety. 

“caleb.” you took a step towards him, lightly taking his hands. you felt defeated.

“i’m a hunter. this is my job, this is what i do for a living. i choose to do this, willingly.” he got dangerously close to your face as he looked you right in the eye with a solemn expression.

“and it kills me everyday knowing that you did.” you felt your heart sink to your stomach as he backed away from you. he placed his hands on the desk with his head down, trying to control his erratic breathing.

“i can’t protect you like i promised.” 

it’s like the ground was falling from underneath you. caleb was perpetually proud of you and your accomplishments, but it all made sense now. he was always apprehensive about you becoming a hunter, but he pushed it down knowing that’s what you wanted to do with your life. whenever he saw you in your hunter uniform, there was always a tinge of something in his eye that you couldn’t put your finger on. now you know that tinge was his anguish. 

“...and what if i don’t need protection anymore?” a single laugh choked out of caleb’s lips. he felt crazy. he was confident that he was someone that you could rely on and if he didn’t have that, then what did he have? he couldn’t look at you, knowing that you had that expression on your face, but he wanted to see you– he always did. he turned to you, leaning his weight on the desk as he didn’t trust his legs to move. 

“then there was no point in me coming back.” 

[lycandrophile]

some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

[tainted-liquor]

⋆✦ Keep Talkin' ⋆ [3.11.23] - ft. Miles G. Morales ⋆ Ingredients: Sugar, Smiles, and a lil bit of Salt! A/N! READER HAS A STUTTER. Please keep that In Mind.

“Miles, c’mon…get up-“ You chuckled, using all your strength to shuffle Miles off your body. “Absolutely not.” He blurted, somehow getting heavier than earlier as he further relaxed on top of your chest. “I-It’s almost the e-e-end…fuck” you sighed, growing more and more agitated by the minute. For as long as you could remember, you had a mind that moved faster than your mouth could deliver; words and syllables getting lost on the tip of your tongue every time you attempted to vocalize your thoughts. “Mamita, está bien. vamos, sigue hablando, It doesn’t bother me” Miles grunted, plunging his face further into your soft navy-blue wool sweater.

“Y-y-yeah y-you don’t, I do” you chuckled, feeling the air fill your lungs as Miles hoisted himself off of you. The temperature difference was terrifying; you had gone from a comfortable cozy warm to a sudden burst of wintery air blowing directly on you from the A/C. You pulled yourself off the sophomore lounge’s plush bean bag, stretching and yawning while Miles poured coffee into his matte black water bottle. The enticing scent of fresh brew wafted through the space, invading the senses of anyone who passed by the cozy lounge. “You want some?” He asked, pouring French vanilla, cinnamon, sugar, and caramel into the bottle and giving it an aggressive shake.

You nodded, taking the bottle from his hands and taking a deep swig from the warm cup of caffeine. “Aight, c’mon. You have class” Miles recalled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he guided you out of the dim and inviting lights of the lounge to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the school hallway. “Miles, can we go to…what’s i-i-i-it called…the cafe across the str-..the cafe across the str-street?” You asked, twisting the cap back on his water bottle and handing it back to him without missing a beat. “Yeah, of course, come get me after class,” he beamed, shoving the water bottle back into the side of his blue backpack. You said your goodbyes, slipping into the cold confines of your classroom while you waited for the rest of the student body to cram into their assigned seats.

Tension was high as everyone opened their computers, faces being illuminated by the ghostly white hue of their screens as they got ready to present their Google slides. You’d always been exempt from vocalizing lengthy presentations, but today you wanted to at least try to work through or around your stutter. You got up from your seat as quietly as possible before fixing your ash grey skirt and made your way over to Mr. Talgate’s desk. You felt slightly more confident, or maybe that was just the ghost of pride taking over you from Miles’ reassurance prior. But regardless of what it was, you wanted to present your slides, especially with how hard you worked on them for the past 3 days.

“Mr. Talgate? Is i-i-it…is i-it alright i-i-if I pres-present today? I’m really proud of my slides n’ I wanna try tod-today” You whispered, attempting to suppress that agitating stutter of yours. Mr. Tailgate looked elated, like a proud father who was ready to support his daughter with anything she wanted. “Yeah, of course! You can go right after…uh,” He mumbled, looking over the classroom to see who you could sandwich your presentation in between. “Lisa! You can go after Lisa. But if you ever wanna stop, just let me know…Make a time-out sign with your hands and I’ll let you go, alright?” He smiled, waving you off as you nodded and retreated to your seat. No thoughts were coursing through your head as everyone went up and gave their speeches; one by one, people’s names were removed from the list as your time to speak came closer and closer. 

You fixed everything that you could, reciting your I’s and Y’s and E’s with each passing second. Lisa took any final questions, before giving a warm smile and a thumbs up in your direction, mouthing “Good luck babes!” before collecting her computer and returning to her seat. You gave her a sheepish, lopsided smile in return as you prepped the small podium in the front of the classroom to present your project. You sucked in a deep breath, wrangling your thoughts and lingering anxieties before turning to face your peers.

“Hi! So, m-my pres-presentation i-i-i-is about th-th…the chemical compound Nitrous O-Oxide.  As you can see, there’s-” You began, quickly beginning to feel the epiphany of speaking in front of a whole class setting in. You were doing fine for the most part, until a random voice in the back spoke up, ruining the rest of your day. 

“Yo, does she always fuckin’ stutter like this? We can’t skip her?” He moaned, throwing his hands in the air like he was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Your blood ran cold as you shut your mouth and clutched the sides of the glazed oak podium. The class erupted in groans of annoyance and shouts of ‘Shut up!’ aimed at the boy as you quickly sat back down at your desk. Your waterline pooled with tears as the boy named ‘Kaiden’ was ejected from class. What a fucking loser.

You barricaded your face in your arms, the tip of your nose ghosting your desk as tears silently trailed from your eyes. The sound of whispers and apologetic glances in your direction went unnoticed as the tinnitus made itself known in your ears, flooding your senses as the pressure on your throat grew heavier. You struggled to control your breathing while you asked the teacher to leave, earning quick confirmation and a gentle pat on the shoulder from Mr. Talgate. When you finally brought yourself out of the classroom, you wiped away the remnants of the salty tears in the mirror that you kept in your blue locker. No matter how hard you dabbed at the trail of tears, no amount of recovery or cleanup would dissipate the feeling of dread that pooled into your stomach every time you went to open your mouth.

Anyway,

Thankfully, that was your last class of the day. All that was left was to find Miles and get some food, and then you could go home to your warm and comforting pink cotton sheets. Your glossy Mary Janes clinked against the pure white vinyl composition tiles, echoing through the spirit-painted walls as you advanced toward the sophomore lounge once more. You pushed open the deep grey sliding door, revealing your boyfriend with his legs propped up on the window seal. He crouched with his knees to his chest, one AirPod in his left ear as he read a bright red comic about someone named Spider-Man. His eyes broke their pattern of scanning over the small font and vibrant pictures, instantly turning over to look at you as he lifted himself off the window.

“Wassup, Ma…You out early, they let you go or somethin’?” He asked, giving you a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. There was a moment of silence as you nodded with a small smile, earning a sideways glance from Miles. There was a thought that itched at the back of his mind, but he went against his better judgment and assumed you were tired and just wanted some food. It was all going fine until he realized that you were 2 minutes away from the familiar French cafe and you hadn’t said a single word. He missed your usual commentary as you passed by buildings, giggled about dogs, and pointed out signs that caught your attention. He glanced over in your direction, observing as you stared at the ground and fiddled with his bandaged fingers.

“You good Ma? You been real quiet lately… what's on your mind?” He questioned as he held open the glass door so you could pass through into the soft, dim, yellow lighting of the cafe. It was virtually impossible to get anything past Miles; he knew you better than he knew himself, that was clear. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you unpacked the events of 8th  period. “Then he said that I shou-shouldn’t be presenting,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the deep brown leather booth just by the back exit. The store was warm and the fragrance of fresh baked goods wafted through the air, something that could always be associated with comfort and relaxation wasn’t doing much to help you relax right now.

“Well fuck him. Fuckin’ dumbass ain’t even had the balls to say it at the front of the classroom…Kaiden failing his classes anyway baby don’t pay that bum any mind. His mama got 2 teaspoons of hair, Déjalo donde está” He grumbled, rolling his eyes as he slid you closer to his side. “Listen, don’t let them niggas hurt your feelings. He a fat rectangle with buck teeth, don’t let that motherfucker bend you,” He grunted.

“Now c’mon, I want a cannoli.”

Tags !!

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x  @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[lynnzelds]

re4r leon kennedy x afab!reader (kinktober prompt four - thigh riding)

resident evil kinktober masterlist

wc: 1,302 words

(tags: thigh riding, reader is super clingy and needy, reader is a bit of a brat, rough sex, unprotected p in v, leon fucks reader on his desk, aftercare)

a/n: my writing has detoriated as i am sleep deprived as hell. oof. i at least went back and did some light edits so that it's readable. with that said, enjoy whatever words my fingertips decided to conjure.

Today is the day that your boyfriend returns home from a long mission, and as you hear the clicking of a key, you eagerly leap from the couch as the front door opens to reveal Leon, shoulders slumped from exhaustion but a small smile on his face as he sees his favorite person in the world standing before him. You run over to him, wrapping your arms around him and clinging to him like a magnet. His smile grows wider, the fatigue leaving his eyes for just a moment, and he slips his fingers into your hair as he presses his lips to your forehead. 

“Missed you,” he mumbles. You repeat those words back to him, continuing to hold onto him. You nuzzle your head into his broad chest. 

“You can let go of me now,” he laughs.

You make a “nuh uh” noise that gets muffled by his shirt. He sighs and picks you up as you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He carries you over to your bedroom, already used to how clingy you are after he returns from month-long missions. “Come on, love, I need you to let go,” he says quietly into your ear once he makes it inside your cozy room, his deep, smooth voice leaving chills on the back of your neck.

“Need you,” you whine, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“Love, I can’t,” he says, trying to shake you off of him a few times before giving up. “I’m tired and still have to get work done.”

You don’t budge.

Leon sighs. “How about this? I’ll let you get off on my thigh while I write up my report, and if you’re good, I’ll reward you later.”

You pull away from his neck, your eyes lighting up. You finally loosen your grip on him and set your feet onto the soft carpet as he removes his jacket and unbuckles his belt. He walks over to the office chair in front of the small desk situated in the corner of his desk, and once his trousers fall to his ankles, he takes a seat in the chair and pats his bare thigh.

You swiftly pull your shirt over your head–and it’s then that Leon realizes that you intend on stripping yourself bare. Your clothes hit the floor and then you go over to Leon, the cold air hitting your naked body.

As he logs onto the computer and begins his work, you position yourself over his left thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth that radiates off him, and lower your weight onto him. You slide yourself up his thigh to press your body against his, whining in pleasure as his leg provides pressure and stimulation to your clit. 

With unsteady movements at first, you begin to grind yourself into Leon, his name falling from your lips like a sweet melody. Your pace grows steadier, and your hushed moans make their way into his ear. You glance down at his boxer briefs, noting his growing erection straining against the confines of the fabric. You move your hand down there to palm him, but he growls quietly and pulls your hand away from him. 

“What did I say about being good?” 

You bring your arm back around his neck, letting out a huff of defeat as you continue to rut yourself into his thigh. You close your eyes as you rest on his shoulder, fantasizing about him grabbing your hips and bouncing you on his thigh, but you know he won’t give you any attention. Not unless you’re being disobedient, that is…

“Leon, please,” you whine into his ear, “need you.” Your desperate hand makes its way down to the waistband of his boxers, attempting to tug it down, but Leon forces your hand away again.

“Enough,” he says firmly, moving your hand up to his shoulder. You can sense the impatience growing within him. You smirk as your hand makes its way down his chest, feeling every inch of his musculature. 

Leon sighs heavily, knowing that you intend to touch him again. He stands up with you in his arms, and next thing you know, you feel the cold hardness of his desk slamming against your back, making the air leave your lungs. You’re surprised he didn’t break the desk.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” he says in a harsher tone than he means to, pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. He slides it down to his knees, taking a moment to spread his precum over his cock before he lifts your legs up and positions himself at your entrance. “How many?” He takes notice of the shocked expression on your face. “You want my cock that badly?” You bite your lip and nod, feeling desire growing in the pit of your stomach despite knowing that he won’t go easy on you for this. “Well that’s what you’re gonna get,” he growls, before pushing himself into you with a long groan. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his size, and tears form at the corners of your eyes.

“Leon, I’m–I’m sorry,” you whisper, but you know it’s too late for his forgiveness. He pulls back before slamming into you roughly–a loud cry leaving your throat. You can’t help but squirm around the desk as he continues his relentless pace, that coil in your stomach building up quickly.

“You asked for this,” he says. His heavy balls slap against your ass with every thrust, the sounds of your moans joining in with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He relishes in your loud cries and quick, heavy breaths, his hips never relenting.

You want to apologize, but your words won’t get through to him. Your head spins as he continues to fuck you roughly, the pleasure building and building. It’s too much, but you need more…and then the words “don’t stop” leave your lips. He grins slightly as he slows down a little, just enough to let you catch your breath. A part of him feels guilt for having been so rough. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

You moan his name so much it seems like it’s the only word in your vocabulary, your walls convulsing around him at around the same time his cock twitches. He grunts as he picks up the pace once more, moving your legs to have them wrapped around his waist as he continues to rock his hips into yours.

You don’t even get the chance to tell him you’re close when your orgasm comes crashing down over you, pleasure rippling throughout your body. Leon is soon to follow, emptying himself inside you with a low groan. Once he’s finished, he pulls out and lowers your body gently onto the desk, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“Are you alright, love?” he says softly, running his calloused fingers through your hair. 

“‘M okay,” you respond, panting hard. 

He pulls up his pants and zips himself up before lifting you from the desk, noticing how worn out you look from just a single round with him. He carries you over to the bed and leans down, kissing you on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, brushing back your sweaty strands. Feeling the exhaustion from both the mission and the physical exertion from pleasuring you, he then says, “I could use a nap now–care to join me?”

You nod eagerly, and he crawls under the covers next to you, holding your naked body close to him. He whispers sweet nothings into your ears, just in case he had hurt you during the sex. His warmth engulfs you as you both eventually succumb to sleep.

kinktober prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

[atzloverr]

selfish desire - chapter 2

previous chapter - next chapter

Masterlist for selfish desire

You let out a deep sigh as your eyes wandered to the clock on the wall. You had no classes today, and had decided to take a shift at the corner, never saying no to some extra money.

Today was however, not a busy day at all. There was an occasional customer, but other than that, you just had to sit and wait for your shift to end.

The deadline of the report you and Seonghwa were working on was itching closer, and you felt the stress catch up to you. Sure, working with Seonghwa had gone great, but this was a three man job.

A week and a half had passed since you got the assignment, and during that time, you and Seonghwa had only worked on the project when you were both on campus.

You hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask him to study with you after school. You continued to procrastinate taking contact with him, but now you decided, now was the time.

You fished up your phone from your back pocket and hesitantly clicked on Seonghwa’s contact.

“Hey! Just wondering if you would be interested in studying with me sometime today? I just figured it would be nice, since the deadline is coming soon.”

You ended your message with a cute little emoji before clicking send. You exhaled deeply after finally seeing the ‘delivered’ pop up on your screen. Why were you so nervous to message him? Talk to him? Meet him?

He was a very nice guy, even though he still kept his words few, but something about him was suspicious. You couldn’t tell what it was. It was like he always kept his cards close to his chest, but never expected you to do the same.

He knew quite a bit about you now, but you basically only knew his name. Your attempts to get to know him better were turned down, as he answered impersonally.

Your head perked up as you heard a notification from your phone.

“Sure, I would love to! Where and when do you want to meet?”

His answer startled you slightly. He would “love to”, huh? Didn’t seem like him to be so enthusiastic over something like this, but you were happy to have a little study date planned.

“Great! How about the spider lily? I’ve heard it’s a great cafe for studying, and I’ve never been there. I’m working right now, but I’m free from 2pm!”

He answered immediately.

“Sounds great. How about 3pm then? at the spider lily :P”

Gosh, you thought. Even his messages are kind of cute.

“Yes, that sounds good! See you then!”

You finally put your phone down and spotted a customer on their way into the shop. Finally, something to do.

✧ ･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ :*

You looked at your GPS once again, and then at the road, and then the GPS again.

You really shouldn’t have recommended a cafe that you didn’t really know the location of, but you still had a few minutes before you were supposed to be there.

You stopped in your tracks, spinning around, trying to get your GPS to work like it should. Letting out a sigh, you continued to walk in the direction you assumed was right.

Just as you were about to stop again to see the GPS, a low voice startled you. You looked up at the man in front of you, and saw none other than Seonghwa.

“Y/n,” he called out. Hearing him say your name made your heart beat a tad bit faster.

“Oh, hi Seonghwa!” you greeted him. “I’m sorry I’m almost late, I just couldn’t find the way…” you admitted ashamed. He only smiled before pointing at the cafe on the other side of the road.

You facepalmed, which earned a chuckle from him. “Well then, let’s not waste anymore time, shall we?” you suggested, before the two of you walked to the cafe.

✧ ･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ :*

”What do you think of this?” you asked as you turned your computer to face Seonghwa.

You were seated in a private spot of the cafe, and you had to admit, it was going well for the two of you.Your earlier stress had almost been wiped away by Seonghwa’s calm demeanor.

He nodded enthusiastically at the design choice you showed him. He looked around, and after seeing the lack of people, he finally did what you had been waiting for.

“That’s beautiful (Y/N),” he said. You felt your breath shudder when you met his strong gaze. The way he looked so deeply into your eyes, it almost made you uncomfortable at times.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. He looked around once more. “Let’s take a little break, shall we?” he asked. You were flabbergasted at his sudden ability to speak like this. “Oh, okay!” you said, happily closing your computer.

“Suddenly you speak to me, huh?” you accidentally said out loud. You slammed your hand over your mouth in shock at your own words. You were about to apologize when he suddenly laughed. Not just a little giggle this time, a full on laugh.

“Oh, how you amuse me (Y/N)!” he laughed.

✧ ･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ :*

In the last thirty minutes or so, Seonghwa had spoken like never before. When you asked him why he was suddenly so talkative, he just shrugged the question off. He truly was a mystery.

“Do you live near the campus?” he asked, leaning towards you slightly. “Uh, yeah I live pretty close. Do you know where the corner is?” you asked him. He nodded. “Yeah, I work there, and live in the next building,” you explained.

He nodded with an ‘ohhh’. Now was the time, you decided. The time for you to find out more about this mysterious mister Park Seonghwa. “How about you? where do you live?” you threw out.

He looked down nervously. “I- I don’t live nearby,” he tried. No way, you thought. No more of this sneaky shit. “Really? In what area?” you smiled innocently. “Oh, just like, out in nowhere,” he laughed.

You were clearly not going to get anywhere with this. “Okay… Well, do you have any roommates?” you asked. “Yes, I live with someone… special to me,” he smiled fondly.

You raised an eyebrow at his vague answer. Someone special to him? Could it be a girl? “Well, maybe we should get back to work, don’t you think,” he suggested, clearly wanting to avoid any more questions about his private life. You bit your bottom lip and nodded i defeat.

✧ ･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ :*

”Thank you for today, Seonghwa! I think we made some great progress today,” you smiled.

He nodded, apparently back in mute-mode again. You had a really hard time understanding Seonghwa’s personality. He never spoke, except for today, when he was super talkative out of nowhere. He didn’t tell you anything about his private life, but asked you all about yours. You tried not to get too worked up about it, considering you probably wouldn’t speak to him again after this assignment was done.

As the two of you left the cafe, you noticed that the weather had gotten pretty chilly. It was October now, so the weather got colder for every day that went by.

Seonghwa seemed to notice the way you put your arms around your body, trying to warm yourself up. He took off his coat, and kindly offered it to you.

“Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry about it!” you said, trying to politely decline his offer. Seonghwa however, just shook his head. Before you could protest further, Seonghwa threw his coat over your shoulders. You looked at him with a shocked expression. “Thank you again but it’s really not necessary! I can’t have you go all the way home without a jacket, considering you live far from here,” you tried to convince him.

To your surprise, he got closer to you, talking lowly in your ear. “I won’t take no for an answer.” He pulled away from you, and smiled innocently. You felt your mouth open slightly in shock. What the hell?

Seonghwa walked you to your bus stop, and waited with you for your bus. You tried to assure him that he didn’t need to do all that, but he shook his head again.

“Are you going home?” he asked, voice low, barely even audible. “No, I’m going to my friend’s place. His name is Wooyoung, maybe you’ve seen him in class sometime?” you asked.

Seonghwa’s demeanor suddenly changed. You could feel his body stiffen slightly, and his gaze suddenly turned hard. He looked at the ground. “No. I don’t know him,” he said, voice dull, and still very quiet. The conversations died out as the two of you watched your bus arrive.

As you sat in the back of the bus, gazing out the window, you let your thoughts wander. You desperately wanted to figure him out. What was up with him? Did he have anything against Wooyoung? Why did he insist you took his coat? Why was he so secretive? What was he hiding?

✧ ･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ :*

Seonghwa closed the door behind him as he entered the house. His cheeks were warm, despite the cold autumn weather outside. The only thoughts that occupied his mind were those of you. You, you, you. It was getting harder every day. Forcing himself to pretend like you weren’t his everything. Their everything.

“Hwa? Is that you, my love?” Hongjoong’s voice echoed from the kitchen before he stepped out in the hallway. Seonghwa couldn’t help but to collapse in his lover’s arms, sighing lovingly. Hongjoong chuckled.

“What’s got you like this, hm?” he asked. Looking closer at Seonghwa, he noticed something. “Hey, where’s your coat? I told you to wear it, didn’t I?” Hongjoong scolded lightly. This however, just gained a laugh from the boy in his arms. “(Y/N) has it,” he explained while slowly leaving Hongjoong’s arms.

“She was cold and- and- Hongjoongie, she was just perfect,” Seonghwa explained. “She asked so many questions and I- I just couldn’t tell her the truth. But I- I never want to lite to her, Joongie,” Seonghwa explained, eyes getting slightly teary.

“You spoke?” Hongjoong asked with a serious tone, the sudden question putting an end to Seonghwa’s rambling. “Yes, but there was nobody else around.” Hongjoong raised his hand to stroke Seonghwa’s hair lovingly.

“You’re being so good Seonghwa. Keeping all your little promises,” Hongjoong smiled. “So, why don’t you tell me more about your little date, hm?”

Next chapter

Complete Masterlist

[wildyueblonder]

Febuwhump Day 1: Lost Voice

My first ever fic so please be kind! After watching all of slow horses I've been INFECTED and I can't get it out of my head, so 2000 words of River whump just fell out onto the page. No idea if I'll write any more although the Febuwhump prompts are gooood. May upload to AO3 if people like it (and once I have my account set up)

*****

River let out a long sigh as he eased himself down into his desk. Just that small rush of air made his throat burn, and he resisted the urge to drop his aching head into his hands.

He probably could have justified staying home today. It was a grey drizzly Monday morning in the streets of London, commuters going about their business with heads down and hoods up, trying to shelter from the ever-permeating English dampness. It was not the kind of weather that inspired action, and he couldn’t imagine even terrorists wanting to brave this when they could be sat at home with a cup of tea and some daytime telly. Nothing would be happening at Slough House today. Nothing ever happened at Slough House.

Despite it all, somehow River had dragged himself from his bed that morning, eyes sticky and head throbbing, with a throat like he had spent the night swallowing shards of glass. As a child, the O.B. had been strict on illness – the words ‘if you’re unwell enough to complain, then you’re unwell enough to stay in bed’ echoed through River’s mind. He had never been a patient child, and had usually been keen to avoid a day stuck in his bedroom. He had learnt to push through any signs of illness, and had noticed a glint of pride in the O.B.’s eyes whenever he did so. The old man had valued toughness. Even now, River couldn’t help but try and prove himself, although his grandfather was no longer in a fit state to recognise his efforts.

And so, here he was, at 9:07am, slumped in his desk chair at England’s most useless intelligence branch, staring with slightly glazed eyes at the loading screen of his computer, as Louisa noisily clattered her way into the office.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, out of breath, dropping her bag on the floor as she unwound a scarf from her neck. “Tube was rammed. Has Lamb noticed?”

River shook his head, doing his best to seem focused on his screen and hoping Louisa couldn’t see that all he was doing was entering his password. He really just needed to keep his head down and get through today, and Louisa had this annoying way of caring that threatened to throw off his composure.

(Briefly, his mind flashed back to memories of a cool hand on his forehead, an arm around his shoulders, a soft voice washing over him. His grandmother had not always agreed with the O.B.’s childrearing methods, and would go behind his back when he went to work, sneaking River ice cream and comfort. As he had gotten older, River had rebuffed these attempts at care, fearing that they would make him weak. But what he would give now for one more day with Grandma Rose, making him feel warm and cared for and loved.)

“Cup of tea?” Louisa asked. River grunted in affirmation, watching her make her way to the kitchen before turning his eyes back to his screen, where he had finally managed to pull up last week’s surveillance footage reports. Focusing on the numbers made his eyes feel hot and prickly, but he rubbed them with the heel of his hand before pressing on with his work.

He didn’t notice Louisa’s approach until a steaming mug thumped down onto his desk. He attempted to cover his flinch with a quick ‘thanks’ but all that came out was a croak.

Louisa turned on her way to her own desk, eyes narrowed and raking over his slightly slumped form. River made an effort to sit up straighter. “Everything okay?” Her voice was suspicious.

Attempting to clear his throat, River gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Fine,” he tried to say, although all that came out was a whisper. “Just a bit of a sore throat, nothing to worry about.”

Louisa still looked concerned, but made her way round to her chair and sat down. “You sound like you shouldn’t be here. Lamb wouldn’t mind, you know. Even slow horses are allowed sick days.”

River felt his shoulders tense, but forced himself to stay calm as he answered her. “Seriously, Louisa, it’s fine.” He instantly regretted the emphasis he put on the last word, as he felt it aggravate his already shredded throat. Grabbing the mug, he swallowed a large gulp, hoping it would soothe his voice.

It didn’t. Immediately his body rebelled at the scalding liquid and he began choking. Each cough bounced inside his head and made his eyes water. He blindly reached for his desk, needing some support to stay up, and he distantly heard something crash to the floor. Desperately he hacked and coughed, trying to bring air into his lungs, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t breathe, and his throat was on fire, and the world was fading to black at the edges…

A hand. A hand was gently rubbing at his back, and River focused on it, trying to slow down his heaving chest. He steadily became aware of a voice, murmuring “Easy, easy…” above his head. Louisa’s voice. When had Louisa made her way over to his desk?

Gradually, River’s breathing slowed, and he blinked away tears from his eyes. A droplet of cold sweat tracked a path between his shoulder blades, making him shiver, and Louisa hummed as she moved a hand from his back to his cheek.

“Jesus, River,” she muttered, crouching in front of him. “You don’t do things by halves, do you?”

River tried to answer, but this time when he opened his mouth, not even a whisper could make its way out. Worry danced in Louisa’s eyes. He looked around for the cup of tea, hoping to take a more measured gulp this time, but couldn’t see it. Casting his eyes around, he saw a flash of white on the ground, and peering under the desk revealed the mug upended, its contents soaking into the already stained carpet. River stared, eyes wet, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss for his traitorous beverage.

“Right, come on then,” Louisa said, interrupting his train of thought by slapping her thighs as she stood up. River tried to ask what she meant, but again when he opened his mouth no sound came out. He settled for a puzzled look up at her.

“I’m taking you home,” she said. “You need to be in bed, and it gets me out of work, even if only briefly. It’s a win-win.”

Now that she mentioned it, bed did sound nice. And truth be told, River really did feel rubbish today, didn’t he? The pain in his throat was steadily being outmatched by his headache, which had only worsened in intensity after his coughing fit. His face was burning, but there was a cold clamminess settling into the rest of his body, along with a heaviness in his limbs that made him want to curl up and never move again. But the thought of Lamb’s reaction to River’s weakness, along with the dark, empty flat waiting for him at home, was enough to steel him for one final fight.

He glared up at Louisa, then pulled out his phone, cold fingers stumbling over the keyboard. Louisa’s phone pinged, and she pulled it out, sighing at the message on screen.

Not going. Don’t need to.

And a second message, almost immediately after the first.

Please just leave me be

Louisa perched herself on the edge of his desk, exhaling heavily through her nose. “Fine,” she said. “I guess it’s your choice.”

River felt a flicker of hope, along with a treacherous sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach that he instantly tried to smother. Maybe now he could-

“Of course,” Louisa continued, a hint of amusement in her eyes, “Catherine will be very upset to hear you’ve come in feeling so ill.”

River’s eyes flicked up to hers. She wouldn’t. She knew that was too far.

Catherine Standish was notorious at Slough House for her attitude towards injury and illness. She was keen to instill a sense of self-preservation in all the slow horses, a task which anyone could have told her was doomed to fail from the start. But River didn’t mind her intention. It was a perfectly noble, if ridiculous, thing to wish for.

No, what River couldn’t stand was the execution. Make no mistakes about it, Catherine liked to fuss. She would look at you with disappointed eyes, like each time you got in the path of a bullet, or got punched in the face, or picked up some bug from the cesspool that was the London public transport system, you had done it specifically to hurt her. And then she wouldn’t stop, offering you cups of tea and blankets and bandages, trying to do your shopping or drive you home. It was too much, and right now it sounded like more than River could deal with. If someone offered him that kind of care right now, the wateriness of his eyes might spill over into real tears, and he didn’t think he could get past the absolute mortification that would be crying at Slough House.

He scowled at Louisa. She allowed herself a small smile as River huffed and slowly, reluctantly nodded. He didn’t have much choice right now, and Louisa was preferable to Catherine. Pushing himself up from his desk, he wobbled slightly, waiting for the world to come back into the focus around him. When it did, Louisa was next to him holding his coat out.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go. Before Lamb decides to give me something pointless to do.”

They made their way together down the creaking metal steps outside Slough House, Louisa one step behind River, walking slowly as he held onto the railing with a tight grip. As they reached his car, Louisa held out a hand for his car keys. River opened his mouth as if to challenge her, then thought better of it, anticipating the pain and futility of trying to protest. He handed them over wordlessly then made his way round to the passenger seat.

Louisa got in and started the car, pulling a seatbelt on and turning on the radio to a low hum. As she drove off, the passing scenery set River’s stomach churning, and he closed his eyes, pulling his coat tighter around him as a shiver swept down his spine. He felt Louisa reach over to adjust something, and a blast of warm air began to fill the car. River sniffed, finally allowing himself to feel a bit miserable. He jumped a little as he felt a hand brush some sweaty hair of his forehead, and opening his eyes a crack showed Louisa breaking focus on the road for a second to glance warmly at him.

Smiling, River allowed his eyes to close again. Sure, it wasn’t Grandma Rose, but somehow, within Slough House’s motley crew of misfits, he’d managed to find some of that same love and care, just packaged up in a slightly less homely manner. The streets whizzed by outside the window as River, uncaring of his surroundings, drifted off, a warmth spreading through his chest.

[chaosduckies]

Friends In Small Places (Chapter 1)

The size shifter story is finally here! This is more of a slightly sad piece, even though this first chapter isn’t really all that gloomy and monochrome, I actually have this entire plot line planned out and everything, and whew is the ending going to be something.

But I hope you enjoy! (this chapter is mainly just for introductions so I’m sorry if there really isn’t anything interesting TwT)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Depression, major anxiety, slight gore warning? (Though nothing actually happens)

1-Liam

Today the main hall was bustling with people crowding the board that had all of the activities and clubs posted on. Most of the time people didn’t care all too much about it, only the people who were actually in those clubs, but today was different for some reason. Fitting in between the seemingly hundreds of people, I saw what the commotion was all about. The psychology classes were all being called to a meeting at four. Which was when most classes ended, but still. It’s rare that this school ever calls meetings. It just so happens that I was taking psychology though. 

I sighed, moving back on the free sidewalk get to the library. A friend was waiting for me to help her study for a test she had in just a few hours. I thought I might as well help seeing that I’ve already taken the course. I used to think that college was extremely strict from how my old high school teachers described it, but in reality it’s not that hard when you just take the time to study and take a few practice tests the day before one. It was just two-and-a-half years before I major in psychology and become a therapist. Well, that was my dream anyways. In this world, it was a lot harder given that most therapists get assigned to a size shifter. That was something I didn’t want to do. Well, maybe if it was one who could only shrink, but that’s maybe it. It freaks me out knowing that there are some shifters who could be as tall as a small skyscraper, and some even bigger. A shiver ran down my spine even thinking about it. But that won’t happen. 

Among the few people sitting at the quiet tables lines with pencils, a few pieces of notebook paper, and a lamp that barely even worked, there was a girl waving her arms around aimlessly trying to gain my attention. I laughed softly before walking and sitting down next to her. It seemed she had been here for hours with how she kept her space. Papers spewed all across with scribbled down notes that was barely even legible, colored pens in a mixed mess with her other writing supplies. It made you wonder how she had even made it to college. 

“I see you’ve been hard at work, Rhya.” I set my slightly heavy bag down and started attempting to clean up the vast sums of paper all over the desk and try to keep her notes in order. 

“Yeah well, not everyone can be all neat and tidy as you are.” She lightly elbowed me before grabbing the stack of papers in my hand and shoving them in a folder. I guess she was going to re-do them after all. Either that or she didn’t need them. Despite this being primarily a nursing and health school, Rhya was in the art department. Of course she had to take the core classes along with her own elective, but she plans on becoming a graphic designer. 

“It’s not my fault I know how to study and you don’t.” I joked around, watching her pull out her computer and grab a few empty pages on notebook paper and her calculus book. 

“And it’s not my fault you don’t know how to have any fun.” She stuck her tongue out playfully before pulling up a practice test. 

“Hey I know how to have fun, just not when I know I have better things to worry about.” She solved the first problem right, pumping her fist up in the air as she wrote down the question and highlighted everything she needed to do. I’m also guessing she planned to study whatever notes she was making. 

“I guess you have a point. How’s that psychology major coming along?” She had asked, writing down the problem and attempting to solve it. I sighed, pointing to the number she was missing, “You square root that,” Rhya groaned, “It’s going good. We have some kind of weird meeting later today though.” 

“Oh? Do you know what about?” Rhya asked, but I could tell she was hiding something from me. She knew something. 

“No. Do you?” I skeptically looked at her, earning a side eye right back as she had paused her writing for a moment. 

“Would you believe me if I said no?” She grumbled, I shook my head, a slight smile forming on my face. She knew I would win this argument. 

“Okay well, this might not be true, but I heard that a few psychology students were chosen to have a training. Like, the real deal kind of thing. Size shifter and all. That the ones chosen were supposed to act like one of those special therapists.” My heart nearly skipped a beat at the news. Where did she even hear this from in the first place? There’s no way that’s even real. 

“You’re kidding, right?” I laughed nervously. Even if it was true, I doubt they’d choose a sophomore. I’ve only really had a few practices and I still have a couple more years until I become the real deal. 

“Would I lie to you?” She turned to me, a worried look on her face. Did she think I would have to go through with that? I sincerely doubt it. There was no way they’d put me on whatever list they have going on. Maybe my upperclassman though. They could choose Chelsey, she was really good with everyone and a senior. They’d most likely choose her. Maybe even Ryan since he was really experienced. Actually, he was a size shifter himself, but he’s so good at controlling his emotions that he doesn’t even need to worry about accidentally shooting up a couple feet. 

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I doubt they choose someone with barely any experience. Don't’ worry about it.” I smiled, pointing back to Rhya’s computer to tell her that she needed to get to studying and stop worrying about me. Seriously, she really needed to study otherwise she was going to fail. I can almost guarantee that she’ll be crying to me later when she fails her test. Not my fault she doesn’t study. 

——————

The gym was a large space, but our entire class only took up one tiny portion of the bleacher space as our instructor and several other people dressed up in fancy suits were talking on the ground. I sat next to Ryan, who was playing with the green-colored band on his wrist, showing that he was in one of the five classes of size shifters. Purple represented that they could shrink down to an inch or maybe even smaller if their emotions had the better of them. Blue represented that they could shrink too, but not as much as the one’s with a purple wrist. Green represented that they could both shrink and grow, but only to a certain height. Yellow meant that the shifter could grow to be the size of about a small building, or maybe even a little more depending on how they’re feeling. Red was by far the worst one. To me at least. The shifter’s with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Which was why all shifters with a red band were all forced to be with a specialized therapist for only them. Because if they lose control of their emotions, it could end pretty badly.  

“I’m glad you all saw the announcement on the board. I’m a little surprised really.” Mr. Smith shoved his hands in his front pant pockets, taking a look at all of us before his eyes laid on me, smiling warmly. Why? Something was up. 

“These two gentlemen here are the head of the SSU. Also known as the company that helps size shifters in need. Recently, there has been a shortage of individuals that are willing to work with shifters in helping them control themselves. These two are on the look for candidates-in-training to help fill those missing spots.” 

The two men in suits walked to the front, holding out a clipboard. Those had whoever was going to be picked for this. But why this school? There was another college not too far from here. They could choose from them. Unless they were, and the “tiny” shortage was actually a big one. Or… no. They wouldn’t do that, right? It’s the SSU, they’ve literally helped the world become safer for decades. They wouldn’t be doing an experiment, would they? 

“It’s wonderful to see all sixty-two of you young scholars gathered here today. As your professor already said, we are both from the head office at SSU looking for the best of the best to fill in those empty spots, regardless if you do or don’t have any experience.” That last part made a shiver run down my spine. Ryan turned his head to me, patting me on the back. There was no way they’d choose a nobody like me. No way in hell. 

“This list contains twenty of you who will be taking part in this. You will be in charge of taking care of your designated partner until we can find a professional replacement suited well enough to take over. If I call your name, please stay behind after we dismiss everyone.” The tall man smiled, looking down at the clipboard and calling several names. The anxiety pricked my skin like icicle shards, it had almost seemed like the man reading off names was speaking in slow motion. A few deep breaths, and it was back to normal. 

“Ryan Wright.” He smiled while earning several compliments and congratulations from his fellow classmates. 

“Chelsey Torres.” She giggled a few seats away from us. 

“And Liam Rover.” 

My muscles tensed up at the mention of my name. I couldn’t tell if my heart had stopped or if it was just beating horrifyingly fast. I could tell people were trying to praise me, but I couldn’t hear, their appraisal only reaching my ears in a muffled and slow manner. I managed the most sincere smile I could while trying to hide how much I was trembling. Maybe this would be okay? Maybe I’ll be lucky and not be paired up with a shifter who could potentially crush me between two if their fingers if they really wished to. Was the room cold or was it just me? 

“Everyone else may head to their dorms. Thank you for coming.” 

After everyone had filed out of the empty gym, the other shorter man dressed in an identical suit as the taller one started calling out our names all over again, handing them a red folder with presumedly the shifter we’ll be assigned. Was this how it was when you’re actually a professional? You just get assigned to one? You don’t get to know them or anything? 

Once I was handed my folder, I dreaded every single second of opening it. Please let it be easy, please let it be easy, please let it be eas-

Oh. 

It was only a picture of who we were partnered up with and anything that might be worth mentioning about them. Wow was I overreacting. Then again, that didn’t exactly smoothen out the anxiety that was still pricking at my skin. Though, this shifter didn’t seem so bad. If anything, he actually looked pretty nice. The only thing I had noticed was that he was diagnosed with depression. He kind of looked like it too if I were being honest. It seemed hard for him to smile for the picture. Why did I also get the hint that he wasn’t feeling very good either? I guess I’ll find out when we officially meet. 

“Inside you’ll find who your partner will be for the foreseeable future. You’ll still be coming to your classes, which was why we mainly wanted to stick with the upperclassmen, and afterward go back to where we are currently housing your designated shifter. You have three days to pack everything you need and want, and you’ll soon be living off campus. Just think of it was having a roommate that needs constant supervision.” 

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I’m almost entirely confident that this shifter won’t really be a big deal. I mean, he looks about a year or two younger than me. So he just graduated high school? Agh, I have no idea. I’m just jumping to conclusions. But, hopefully they won’t make me handle anything crazy. That I can’t do. 

——————

They were driving me across the city to go meet up with the shifter I’ll be taking care of for however long. For all I know it could be a few days or weeks. I would think someone would want to step up for the job instead of letting students do this, but I guess not. Chelsey and Ryan have texted me a few times that they were getting settled in already while I was still heading over. It was already around thirty minutes just to get across the place, so that means I’ll have to take a bus almost everyday just to make it to my classes. That’s just great, but I’m in no position to complain. I actually tried talking with Professor Smith about it, but he told me that he had no say in the matter at all, which was weird. I doubt he would want his younger students to even take part in this. 

Along the streets were the many, many buildings that both accommodated for humans and their much larger or smaller companions. Although I’ve only ever been around Ryan about twice when he’s giant, it really wasn’t that bad. He can only grow till someone was like the height if his entire hand so it really wasn’t even that bad. Of course it’s still nerve-racking, but I trust him. Plus, we were at a small party with our little friend group. I doubt he could even bring himself to hurt someone. So really I wasn’t too worried. The only other shifter I’ve been around is an old high school friend of mine, but she goes to a different college now. 

Hundred of houses passed by us as we drove into a little neighborhood. What really made me worried was that the driver wasn’t exactly stopping at the normal-sized houses. Where was he going? I watched grimly as some of the huge houses we passed by came to a halt to one on the very end of one of the many streets. This one wasn’t as big as the other one’s down the street, but it wasn’t exactly small either. At least to me. So… I was paired up with a shifter who could only grow. That’s great. Just… great. 

I grabbed my bag and the small suitcase I had brought with me that was just full of my clothes and some stuff for school. Well if I’m supposed to stay here almost all of the time now I have to find something to keep me busy. And apparently from the immense size difference that will be between my new roommate and I. Of course I was terrified! If he really is diagnosed with depression and was a shifter who grew that only made matters worse for me. I hope whoever plans to take over for me does it soon. 

It took me and the driver to reach the doorstep, but eventually the driver gave it a knock. I swear I could hear some mumbling coming from the other side, but I didn’t dwell too much on that. Most.y because the extremely large door started to open slowly, but I saw no one on the other side. Maybe he was shy? 

“Well I may take my leave, though I have been ordered to tell you that a bus comes in the morning at around 6 just down the street from here, and another will take you back here around 5 and 8. Also, if anything goes wrong, to call this number on your phone.” He handed me a folded slip of paper, then took his leave. I shoved the slip in my pocket, hesitantly taking a few steps into the huge house. 

It was neatly cleaned around the place, though I couldn’t really see from my view on the ground. Everything around me was huge. I mean I’ve been to one of the rooms on the bigger side of the campus, but those rooms were smaller. It’s not an entire house filled with furniture. 

As I took a few steps out more, I jumped when the door had lightly closed behind me. My eyes trailed up and up, finding the face of the person I had seen in the picture. His eyes grew wide when I met his gaze, then bit the bottom of his lip before sliding his back against the wall behind him. 

Everything in my body told me to run, but if I did then I would only get scolded for it later. This isn’t even what I wanted to be! I wanted to be a normal therapist that helps regular adults and kids feel better. Not a human who could easily trap me in a fist and just kill me. I would have been fine if they could only shrink, but this was much worse. 

I faced down, taking a few deep breaths that barely even help me in this situation. I had to take care of someone fifty times my own size? How was that even possible? There weren’t even any smaller sized things around this place. Nothing that could help me get around easier either! 

I guess I could attempt to get his name. I mean, nothing could go wrong then, right? Just maybe from a distance… even if he could, at any point in time, just grab me whenever he so wanted. I felt sick just thinking about being held. Wouldn’t I have to be though? I can’t exactly just climb everywhere I want to go. 

“H-hi. Um, I’m Liam.” I forced myself to walk closer, even under his gaze, but I stopped walking closer when he moved himself further in the corner, looking a bit saddened. He probably knew I was scared. Maybe. I hope I’m some-what hiding it well enough. Though, I’ve never really been that good at it. 

“Oh, um, C-Casper. You can call me Cas if you want.” He kept his voice to a very quiet whisper. So he knew that if he talked too loud it would hurt my ears. At least he’s self-aware. Though, I couldn’t help but feel bad. I may be utterly terrified of him, but I mean he hasn’t really given me a reason to be truly scared, yet. 

“Nice to m-meet you, Cas.” I put on my best fake genuine smile. What? Have to find some way to convince him I wasn’t scared. Even if my body was trembling like crazy and my heart threatened to just come right out of my mouth. 

“Y-you too, sir.” His hand slightly twitched, but he just shook his head, giving me a sad look. ‘Sir?’ Why did he call me that? I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I turned to look at the place, not finding a place to put my stuff. I sighed, hurrying to place it up against the wall opposite of Cas. This would be fine. Yeah, yeah. 

Casper, overall, seemed pretty nice. He had a black, messy hair that complimented his light-brown eyes. He wore a baggy long-sleeve shirt with a pair of jeans I have no idea why he was just wearing jeans in his own house, but it’s whatever he wants to do. Not my place to comment. The only real thing that caught my attention were the light bags in his eyes. Has he been sleeping? 

“Did you want to come here? Like, willingly?” He had asked, slightly leaning a little closer to my spot in the middle of the floor. I admit, it made me a little uneasy, but I don’t think he realized it. It just made it really hard to answer his question when all I could think about was how easily he could kill me right now. He wouldn’t do that, right? He seems so nice. Even if I’m barely two inches to him and I could easily just be crushed or accidentally killed if he wasn’t being too mindful. I shuddered at the thought, but forced my voice to work with me. 

“I-I’m just a student at a college. They just told us we were going to help out shifters, for like, real-world training I guess.” I started speaking a little fast and I could hear my voice slowly get quieter the more Cas seemed to lower his body to me. I felt so small compared to him. It’s overwhelming really, but it’s not like I can just back out. I already asked and they said if I did then I wasn’t cut out to stay in the classes. Seriously, all I wanted was to either be a therapist or a social worker. Not take on these huge responsibilities of making sure an entire living being is doing okay and doesn’t have any malicious intent to just… Aghhhh. 

“Oh. Well, I’m not exactly the best person to be paired up with.” He laughed sadly, holding up his wrist and revealing a red band. A little squeak left my mouth as I stood in place, practically frozen in fear. Why did they pair me up with him? They gave me more than I can handle. There was no way I could do this. I bit the side of my cheek, struggling to keep my composure. 

Cas caught onto my fear, scooting as far away from me as he could while making sure I wouldn’t freak out. Why did he move away? I was going to be fine. I think- But I was okay. Just as long as I keep a certain distance from him for a while. It takes me a long time to adjust to new things, and this might take me a while, but I couldn’t just do nothing. It was obvious to me that Cas was afraid of something, I just couldn’t figure out what just yet. 

“I’m fine, Cas, I promise.” I nervously smiled, hiding how terrified I was. Shifters with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Great. Seriously, what have they done? They think I can handle someone who already looks like he’s struggling to keep himself together just by meeting me? I didn’t really want to find out what would happen if he doesn’t contain his emotions. Was there a person partnered up with him before? I knew I wasn’t going to be getting any answers, but there was no harm in asking them. 

“O-Okay,” He whispered, getting in a more comfortable sitting position, “Are you sure though? I don’t mind giving you an hour or two to get used to… everything.” He looked away for a second, and I could tell something was on his mind. Along with the constant moving away every time I had tried to walk closer, or when he knew I was scared of him, I would think to say that he’s scared of himself. Or, at least hurting other people. It makes sense actually. I’ve heard stories that a lot of shifters realize that they can really hurt people and just try their hardest not to interact with people smaller than themselves. It’s like they collapse on themselves since they don’t want to hurt anyone. I guess Cas and I weren’t so different. 

“Okay, look, it’s obvious that you’re more afraid of yourself than I am of you,” Cas’s eyes widened, “How about we both try to help each other out? I’ll keep trying if you do.” I held out my hand without thinking. A compromise between the two of us. I know we both met like five minutes ago, but I’m pretty sharp for people my age with little experience. But, honestly, maybe this wasn’t so bad. I think all that Cas wanted was the relief that he won’t hurt people. Or something like that. 

“You’d go through with all that? I’m not exactly mentally stable.” I could tell that he was worried, but I just nodded my head, a genuine smile on my face that I hoped he could see. 

He eyed my hand for a while, and I still hadn’t realized what was wrong until he lightly pinched my hand between the tip of his pointer and thumb, barely even lifting it up and down for my own sake. Oh he has no idea how scared I was right now, but he didn’t have to know that. Just a little more pressure and he could just yank my arm right off-I shook that thought away. Don’t think about that right now. It would be okay. Just as long as I get an idea of what to do when he does eventually lose control or something. I had zero idea. I think the thought that stuck in the back of my mind was making me more worried than anything really. I’m just a stress toy for him. But I’ll just have to get over my fear. There was no way I would let this stop me from graduating. Not in a million years.

——————

Sorry for a slightly boring chapter! I did a LOT of world building for this one, and had to map out almost every single interaction through the course of the entire story plot. There also wasn’t much g/t but again, it’s just an introduction chapter. (I’m doing what I love and no one can stop me hehehe-)

But I hope you enjoyed reading! I promise the second chapter will have a much, much better g/t interaction. (Oh trust me it will >:3) I hope you all have a great day/night!

[dreamwatch]

Computer Love

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #22 - Prompt: Alternate Universe | Word Count: 995 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Steve | Pairing: pre-Steddie| Tags: IT Crowd AU, banter, my attempt at humour,

Ok, I wasn't going to write for today, but I was sitting on a work call and it made me think of the IT Crowd and that made me think of our beloved idiots. And honestly, I've been writing so much angst I thought I should try and redress the balance!

Steve wasn’t exactly over the moon about working for his dad, but one failed retail job after another and a few unpaid bills is all it took to have him crawling back to Harrington Senior. He didn’t want to be an office gopher, or work in the mail room, not at his age, but he’d suck it up.

Head of IT. His dad was making him Head of IT.

So far he’s told two friends. Robin, who stared at him like he had two heads before saying “Is he joking? Is it— is it like an April Fools thing?” And Dustin who was even less polite:

“What the fuck do you know about information technology?”

“Is that what it stands for?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

He heads to the bank of elevators looking for his department. Harrington Industries is spread over twenty floors. He wonders if he’ll get a corner office. God the views… 

Steve runs his fingers down the list until he finds IT. Basement. No view then. Shit.

He exits the elevator into a dingy hallway, discarded PCs and printers stacked everywhere, and trips over a cable almost immediately.

Finally he finds his department. And… well…

Fuck.

Yeah. It’s all making sense now.

It looks like a frat house. There are two guys on a ratty couch playing video games, and another two at desks; one mop top making cat memes, and an admittedly cute guy with long hair with his feet up on his desk. There are phones ringing and no one seems bothered by them, until eventually Long Hair lets out an exasperated sigh and picks up.

“IT Support, have you tried turning it off and on again? Uh huh. Yeah it’s the button on the front of the… yup, big grey button… can’t miss it… you know what, let me send someone up. What’s your floor? Uh huh, and name? Melanie. Melanie in Marketing. Well, I’m going to be sending my best guy up—“

And, finally someone has noticed he’s there.

“Uh, he’s on his way, bye.” Long Hair drops the phone. “Guys, we have company.”

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he says, smiling at the four faces now firmly fixed on him. “I’m your new boss.”

“Not for long,” snarks one of the guys on the couch.

“Matty, be nice!” says Long Hair, and god he has beautiful eyes. Shit, fuck, no, don’t go there. “I’m Eddie, that’s Matt, who is just about to head up to Melanie on four—“

“Oh for fu—“

“—That’s Jeff sitting next to him,” Jeff raises a hand, “and this is Gareth.” Gareth just scowls at him.

Steve finally gets a good look at them all. Ratty band shirts and sneakers, ripped jeans, totally unprofessional, they look like they’re in a band not an office. He’s going to be making some serious changes around here.

“Well it’s good to meet you all,” he says and finally catches sight of a small office. He points at it, “Take it this is mine.”

“Sure is,” says Eddie. “We didn’t know exactly when you were coming so you’re not set up yet, but Jeff will get that done this afternoon for you.”

“Why this afternoon?”

Jeff stares at him like he has two heads. “It’s Minecraft Monday.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is.”

Eddie laughs. “It’s fine, I’ll come in a few minutes get you hooked up. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. Boss.” 

His office is small and cluttered with more junk, and definitely no window. God, this sucks. 

There’s a knock at the door and he turns to find Eddie leaning against the door frame, arms crossed against his chest. 

“How d’ya like the place?”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

“Uh, yeah, it’s, you know…”

“A shit hole?”

“Yeah, a shit hole.”

“I take it Donny didn’t exactly fill you in on the details.”

Steve drops into the torn office chair. “Not really,” he sighs. “He has a habit of that.”

Eddie straightens up. “You’ve worked with him before?”

He laughs. “Better than that. He’s my dad.”

“Oh shit.”

Gareth barges in. “Wait, Donny the Dick is your Dad?”

“Donny the— hey, that’s—he’s the guy that pays your salary, a little respect.”

“Pretty sure that’s Karen in finance.”

“What…? You know, never mind. Point is, this department is a mess and there’s going to be some changes around here. Starting with the way you answer the phones, you can’t just tell people to turn the computers on and off—“

“—off and on,” Jeff cuts in.

“Whatever, you can’t do it. You need to ask what’s wrong.”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, we could, but the answer would still be to turn your PC off and on again so…”

Jeff and Gareth nod along like those stupid plastic toys. God, is it too late to go back to Family Video?

“Well, that’s as maybe, but for now you’re… ah, dismissed.”

He doesn’t miss Eddie’s amused smirk, as he gestures for his troops to leave. But then he’s perching himself on the edge of the desk, leaning into Steve’s space, those big brown eyes pinning him in his seat.

“So, just between us, you don’t actually know anything about IT, do you?”

“I mean… I know… uh, like mice, you know and uh… oh!” Steve snaps his fingers and points, triumphantly. “HTNL!”

Eddie’s biting his lip, god he has beautiful lips. “It’s HTML, but you were close. Do you do a lot of coding, Steve?”

He flops back in the chair, defeated. “Up until last week I was working in Family Video.”

“In their IT department?”

“No, in their ‘this is due back in two days department.’” He groans. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

Eddie laughs. “Don’t sweat it, you’ve got a lot more going for you than the last guy.”

“I have?”

“Oh yeah. At least you’re pretty,” he says with a wink.

Yeah, Steve’s totally screwed.

[gamercookies]

What’s better, me or the game? 

Genre: smut (please be advised!)

Pairing: Han x you (Han x reader)

Warnings: msub, fdom, use of “mommy”, straddle, grinding.

Word count: 1057

Note: this is my first attempt doing this so hopefully u enjoy :D I don’t do this stuff but yeah

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . your boyfriend, Han jisung, was a well-known Twitch streamer, but he preferred to keep his relationship a secret from his fans. He was the kind of guy who valued his privacy. He seemed flawless, which is why many of his followers were women, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of jealousy. One day, while he was in his room, you overheard Han reading a comment from a woman asking, "Hey, would you like to DM privately?" Just as he was about to respond, you stormed into his room...

“B-babe..!, what are you doing here..?!” He said, in a panic. You stand by his door and respond to him, “Don’t “babe” me right now, did I just hear you saying someone, which is probably a women of course, wants to talk to you?” you said with your hands on your hips looking at him with a hint of anger.

“Babe..” he whispers. “You know I’m live right now.. you can’t just burst into my room like that, that’s kinda rude of you.”, he says while looking back at you for a moment then back to his gaming computer as he continues his stream. You stand there silently watching him answer some of his questions. 

You were always shy and innocent that you let Han dominate you... but this time, you decide to take things to the next level. Not tomorrow, not next week, today.

After a brief moment you decide to go in front of his webcam, “oh, hello everyone nice to see you all here.” You say with a hint of smile knowing you will make Han mad. Han groaned in annoyance. He looked at the stream and was too stunned to speak. While some of his fans asked in the chat: “who’s the girl..?” 

he quickly gets up from his seat and walks towards you, trying his best to act normal in front of his stream. “honey.. can we talk about this.. o-off stream?..” he whispers to you. He turns back to his webcam and quickly says, “Uhm.. guys that’s all for today, see you guys tomorrow!” He says as he quickly shuts his pc off. 

He quickly grabs your arm and brings you out the room and shuts the door. “babe! what the hell was that?! do you know how bad that looked on stream?!” He knew you were jealous. 

You reply with confidence, “you know what? I had enough..”

You gave him a smirk and chuckled.. you then stepped closer, and you pinned him against the wall, as you spoke in a sassy yet deep tone.. 

“mmm and who says I’ll allow to stream the next day?” he let out a soft gasp as you pinned him against the wall, and blushed even more when you spoke in that deep and sassy tone. “baby.. I didn’t mean to.. I’m sorry for making you jealous.. I-“ He was completely helpless in your hands as you kissed him, taking his breath away. 

As you let go of the kiss and start to speak again, “Han.. I’m not going easy with you today, after all you did, I had enough. you deserve a punishment baby~, he felt a shiver run down his spine as you say “punishment”, he looked at you with a mix of fear and desire, his breath quickening as he spoke in a soft voice, “b-babe.. what kind of punishment?” 

You reply with a whisper into his ear, “don’t worry about that babe~ but first take off all your clothes and then sit on the bed.” He swallowed hard, his heart racing in his chest. He did as he was told, quickly unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them. Then the rest of his clothes follow. He then walked over to the bed and took a seat, his breathing becoming more Labored, the anticipation building.

You approach him with a sly grin, fully aware of what’s about to unfold as you lean down to plant kisses on his neck and chest, while Han is enjoying seeing you dominate over him. Han’s body shivered with each kiss, his mind swirling as he enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his skin. 

He was completely under your control, unable to resist as you teased and dominated him. he let out a soft moan, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

 “Mommy~ please touch me.. use me.. I’m sorry.” he spoke in a soft yet pleading voice, wanting you to touch him and use him. his cheeks flushed red as he called you “mommy” for the first time, clearly desperate and wanting more.. 

You felt a wave of excitement and satisfaction wash over you, knowing that he was completely yours to do with as you please.

you gave him a sly smile and leaned in close to his ear, whispering.. “as you wish, baby..” As you slowly pinch one of his nipples. He quickly let out a soft moan as you pinched his nipple, his breath hitching in his throat. His body instinctively arching towards you, begging for more. His cheeks flushed even more red, as he looked at you with pleading eyes. 

You slowly take off your clothes and then you find yourself sitting down on his cock and slowly move up and down on him, he gasps as you slowly start moving your body in motion, his heart racing as he looks up at you. His hands instantly find your hips, holding on as he lets you take control. He feels your warmth and weight on him, and he can’t help but let out a soft moan..he looks into your eyes, full of desire and helplessness. 

You quickly say, "what's better me or your game?" he was a bit thrown off my the sudden question, but he answer truthfully.

"Ah..~, you, you're so much better than any game.." he says, his eyes locking with yours, desperate for any sort of touch or even praise..

“Then let's continue until the break of dawn. Okay baby?” he nods immediately, completely at your mercy

He says, "yes, mommy.. anything you say.."