#living in a computer has its perks

[nubs-mbee]

It’s not ALL bad

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Love Game

DI!Single!Dad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You hear a glimpse of Leon's relationship with his daughter. And later he makes you a proposal you just can't refuse

Warnings: mild sexual content, still minors dni, brief phone sex, allusions to sex, Leon has a mouth on his as always, bit of soft!dom leon, mostly Leon being a soft dad on this one, foul language (as always), no use of y/n

WC: 3k

A/N: so I'm totally in love with this dynamic! And yalls support was insane. I literally wrote two separate drafts of a continuation of these two and whichever I finished first was gonna be posted, so the light smut one won bc I'm tired atm and didn't feel like sitting in front of my computer for 6 hours🙃 so this short part will have a second part to it with full spicy time. And another standalone part with these two (coffee and other things) having some more spicy time is also in the works, so stay tuned. Besitos <3

Universe Masterlist

Leon blinked slowly, his eyes now starting to grow sore from staring at the bright computer screen for so long. But he just hadn't had time to finish this stupid report. Sure, he has had two whole days to get it done, but with a tiny human clinging to his arm every waking minute, it was a bit more complicated than he thought. But he couldn't possibly ignore his little girl when he barely had the time to be with her without having to worry about stopping some mad scientist with too much time in their hands. He didn't mind though. His little girl was more important than anything else. 

Still, he took advantage of the little window of time he had now. He had given Isabella dinner a little over an hour ago. Then left her in the dining room to finish her homework. She had always been a smart girl, responsible with her homework, she never fussed when he asked her to do it, so it didn't worry him in the slightest to leave her to do her own thing. She tended to get distracted when he was around anyway. 

Though, maybe an hour had gone by when he heard tiny feet pad bare through the wood floors and he saw a mess of chocolate brown strands sticking from its bun peek above his computer screen. He slowly lowered the screen until it was almost shut and he was met with a pair of sapphire eyes that were a replica of his own. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Daddy." She took a step closer to him, her eyes big like she wanted to ask him something. 

Leon sat up fully, setting his laptop aside and nodded at her, giving her his full attention now. "What's up bee?" 

"Can I.. uhm.. I can play with your switch now?" She asked, dark lashes batting as she fiddled with her hands. As if she had to give him puppy dog eyes for him to say yes. He kept his face serious though. 

"You wanna play on my switch?" She nodded. He ran his fingers over his light stubble as if he was thinking real hard, he pursed his lips in thought. "I dunno hun, did you finish your homework?" 

"How did you know I had homework?" She asked with an adorable frown on her face, it took Leon all of his willpower not to break then. 

"Well I do now." He slipped a smile and she pouted. He couldn't help but chuckle at his little girl. He took her in his arms and sat her on his lap. "Well I knew before. Wanna know how?" 

Her head perked up. "How?" 

Leon leaned into her ear with a smile, "'Cause dads know everything about their little girls." He pressed a kiss to the side of her hair and set her back on her feet. "But yeah, Miss Pretty Teacher told me." 

"That's cheating!" She whipped her head around with a gasp and glared at him. He again couldn't hide his laugh. 

"Yeah alright, you caught me," he raised his hands up at her in surrender. "You can play on the switch for a bit. Do you remember how to turn it on?" 

Izzy proudly nodded and skipped over to the large TV hooked up to the living room. The TV had been on, nothing playing, but just on, since Leon had intended to play some white noise in the background but never actually loaded up anything. He switched to the right input as he watched Izzy turn on the Switch. It took her a second to remember how, but she was happily skipping back to the couch with the controllers as the loading screen came up before Leon could get up to help. He shook his head to himself, but he puffed out a breath when Izzy jumped on his lap, rather hard, the little girl giggling when he groaned. 

"Jesus Christ, when did you get so big?" He chuckled, fixing her on his lap so she wouldn't fall and watched as she scrolled through the games until she found Mario Kart. 

"I turned seven in October, remember?" She piped up, genuinely reminding him of such an important date, as if he would ever forget. He nodded. 

"I know, Izzy. I took you to Dave and Busters with Amara, remember?" 

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. That was fun. We should go again sometime! Please daddy?" She turned her head to look at him with this smile on her face and her big blue eyes. 

God, what did he ever do to deserve this kid? 

He pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded. 

"'Course. I'll talk to Amara's mom, okay?" 

He watched as Izzy excitedly nodded and cheered happily before she got lost in the game in front of her. He didn't mind her having screen time. It wasn't like she had an iPad glued to her face twenty-four-seven. He let her play once or twice a week, and maybe a third if he was feeling like playing with her. And she was more than happy to spend that time with her dad. 

Tonight he wasn't really feeling playing, so he watched her do her best. To her, she was the biggest winner there ever was, throwing turtle shells and bombs at practically nothing and hitting the wall with every curve, but she had fun with it, so he let her be, cheering her on whenever she finished a race, even if it was in ninth or eighth place. 

Maybe thirty minutes had passed when he felt his phone buzz beside him. He took his eyes away from the colorful screen to look at his phone. It lit up with a text, and his smile grew wide at the name. 

My pretty teacher. 

He grabbed his phone and quickly opened the conversation. You had been texting back and forth all day, for days now, after what he considered a perfect first date, but he just hadn't gotten around to match your schedule to plan another date. So you had resorted to texting and maybe calling once here and there. But God, he was really missing you right about now.

My pretty teacher: sorry, I went to dinner with my mom and sister. And I just got home. Hru? 

He bit his lip as he attempted to type into his phone one handed. 

Me: It's fine. I'm ok. With izzy. 

My pretty teacher: awww🥰 

Me: Can you call? I'm texting with one hand at the moment. 

You saw the message, and he could see the three text bubbles appear and disappear. Until they didn't come back. He mentally grimaced at himself, maybe the idea of talking to him while Isabella was there made you uncomfortable? Shit. He hadn't thought about that. Christ, he hadn't dated in so long he had forgotten that being a single dad wasn't exactly the biggest turn on. No matter how much one liked kids. 

His anxiety riddled brain stopped racing when he saw your contact name pop up on his screen as his phone started ringing. He grinned to himself. He glanced at Izzy— her full attention was still on her game, he shrugged and answered the call. He set his phone down, still having one ear bud in from when he was working on his laptop. 

"Hey Miss." He spoke first, his heart racing in his chest a bit. 

"Hi Leon." He could hear the smile in your voice. That shy smile he thought was the prettiest thing. 

"You busy?" He asked, still a bit worried he was interrupting you in the middle of something. Though the indistinct sound of TV playing in the background let him know that maybe you weren't that busy. 

"Not really. I got home a little bit ago so I was just about to run myself a bath." You answered, walking back and forth between your bedroom and the bathroom connected to it. "You?"

Leon tried his hardest not to think about your words too much. Not right now. 

"Nah. Just watching Izzy play on my switch. She's kicking ass in Mario Kart." He heard you blurt out a giggle, which made him chuckle, but what made him actually laugh was Izzy shooting him a frown over her shoulder. 

"Daddy, that's a no-no word." 

Leon snapped his head down at Izzy and he frowned, not sure if he heard her correctly, "What's that bee?" 

"I said that's a bad word."

"What is?" 

"Ass." 

Leon almost snorted at the way she said the word. With a frown and her lips pursed. He didn't care if she said bad words or not. He sure as hell said them all the time, but he encouraged her not to repeat what he said, in front of other people, at least. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

"So don't say it. I'm an adult. I can say them." When she kept looking at him, he placed a hand on top of her head and —gently— turned her head back towards the TV screen, despite her protest. "Keep playing your game, Isabella. Or you can't sit on my lap anymore." 

All Leon could hear was you attempting to muffle your laughter, but he could hear your giggles loud and clear. He only rolled his eyes, but he had a tiny smile of his own. 

"C'mon don't laugh, being a parent is hard. Are you the one teaching her this no-no bull— B.S?" He caught himself, closing his eyes when you laughed even more, now not even bothering to hide it. 

"I have to! I have a swear jar, I'm sorry. I gotta set an example." 

He actually laughed at this, remembering the mouth you had on you when he had you on his bed. 

"Yeah, well, you weren't so pure and innocent when you were screaming—" He caught himself again, his own eyes widening when he remembered Isabella was right there and he sighed out softly. "Give me an hour and I'll give you the answer you deserve, Miss." 

You stayed quiet for a second, not because he offended you, but because you needed a second to breathe and control the heat that flashed between your legs at his insinuation. You exhaled deeply before responding. 

"You're what again? Playing Switch with Izzy? 

Leon hummed in response. "She is. She's sitting on my lap so I'm being forced to watch." 

"I'm not forcing you!"

"On your game, Isabella. Stop listening to my conversation." 

"Does she have her own Switch or something?" You asked, now sitting on the edge of your bathtub as hot water poured from the faucet. 

"No. It's my Switch. But I leave it in the living room so she can play sometimes." He answered you with a shrug you obviously couldn't see. 

You chuckled softly, "How old are you again?" 

"Thirty-eight, but that's besides the point. I barely have time to use the thing. I mostly bought it for Izzy." He wasn't lying— entirely. He sometimes played, late at night by himself when he wanted to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. He would choose to play a game to blow off steam instead of getting drunk with his little girl sleeping in the next room or passing out drunk at some shitty bar. 

"I'm very convinced by that." You snorted, making him sigh out at you.

"Hmph. Whatever. You wouldn't understand how cathartic throwing green turtle shells at tiny cars can be." 

"Oh I bet." 

"Daddy?" You heard Isabella's voice through the phone and your heart warmed.

Leon looked down at Izzy, "Yeah?" 

"Who are you talking to?" She asked with genuine curiosity, her very glorious race tournament now over and her attention was on him. 

He heard you go silent, most likely having heard the little girl and he sighed out, his eyes landing up on the ceiling for a second as he thought of his answer. 

"Just a friend, bee." He ultimately decided on that answer. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being with you, not at all, but Izzy was still young, and even he knew there had to be a proper introduction of you outside of your teacher role. He actually wanted to do this the right way.

"You fuck my brains out last week and I'm just a friend now?" He heard you comment in his ear and he groaned out. 

"C'mon, that's not fair." He leaned back into the couch, his forearm over his eyes now as he basically had two women all over him, pressing him with way too many questions for his liking. 

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Leon. I get it." There was humor in your voice, lightheartedness and even though he couldn't see you, he had a feeling you had that gentle smile on your lips. That eased the pressure on his chest. 

"Listen sweetheart, it's almost Izzy's bedtime," His eyes were on Izzy now, and with his eyes he was nudging at her to start wrapping up her game. She pouted, but didn't otherwise fuss. "Call you in an hour?" 

You both had this dumb, lovesick smile on your face, if only you could see the other.

"I'll be up."

The warm water, the foaming body wash and the intoxicating smell of your favorite candle had done wonders to relax you. When you left the bathtub you felt like a whole new person. Though there still this tug of butterflies in your stomach as you anxiously waited for Leon to call you. 

You sat on the edge of the tub, warm and fluffy robe wrapped around your naked body as you mindlessly scrolled through your social media for a little while before you decided to check out for the night. You nearly slipped right off the tile when your phone buzzed and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. 

"Hey, sorry about, y’know, earlier. Izzy and I are like that." You smiled at the sound of Leon's voice, now a bit hushed but more relaxed and carefree, like he now could say whatever the fuck he wanted. 

"It's okay. It was cute, hearing how you talk to her. You're sweet." You smiled to yourself, and you could hear him breathe out a soft laugh, most likely a bit flustered by your words, but he otherwise didn't show it. "You put her to sleep though?" 

"Yeah, I stayed with her 'til she fell asleep. I'm in my bedroom now, about to take a shower." He said the words slowly, with purpose, like he wanted you to think about it like he had been thinking about you, taking that bath. "So, you take your bath yet?" 

"Yeah, it was nice. I definitely needed it. I could've used some company though." You bit your lip, testing his reaction. There was silence, then he hummed. 

"Yeah? That so?" Now it was your turn to hum in agreement, your legs instinctively closing as you tried to soothe the ache between your thighs. "I'm sure you could've. Would've been nice to have someone hold you, right? Have someone leave kisses on your wet skin, say how good you're doing while getting your pretty pussy fingered?" 

You couldn't hold back the moan that left your throat at his words, and your free hand instantly traveled down, stopping at your belly. 

"Oh, that's a sound I'll never get tired of hearing. Fuck, you're already moaning for me and I'm not even there to give you a reason." He exhaled out a chuckle, his hardening cock starting to press against his sweatpants. 

"Fuck, I really wish you were here." You sighed out, your hand itching closer towards your already wet cunt, but you knew it wasn't your touch you ached for. It was Leon's. 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

You whined softly, your phone almost slipping off your grip as your head fell to the side. "Leon…" 

"Tell me." 

"Because… I really, really, need you to touch me, hold me, ugh— I just need you to fuck me, Leon." 

Leon clenched his fist as his side, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he listened to your desperate words, and the sound shot straight to his cock. Fuck, he'd be lying if he said he didn't need you, too. 

"Goddamn baby," He grunted softly, his hand now brushing the front of his sweats, where his cock strained against the material, and he tried to muffle the sound between his teeth, but you heard it anyway. "You have no fucking idea how much I've been wanting to ruin that pussy of yours again. It's actually driving me crazy." 

You shuddered, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable. "I really want to see you too, baby." 

Leon closed his eyes, biting his lip raw as he thought fuck it. He could explain in the morning. 

"Fuck it, just fuck it. Wanna take the drive here? I swear I'll give you exactly what you need and it'll be so worth it." 

You'd like to think you were a rational person, you always thought things through twice, three times if necessary. You didn't take risks, much less acted in a way that could be considered immoral, but for Leon? Fuck, for that man you would become the biggest whore in this world if it meant he would take you just one more time. 

"Be there in thirty." 

Fuck it. 

Sneak peek of A Love Game Part II, coming soon

His lips were hard on your own, messy on your jaw, like he didn't know which part he wanted to kiss more. Your fingers were entangled in his perfectly soft honey brown strands, already melting under his touch. His hand came up under your jaw to grip your face in place, long fingers sprawled out over your neck. He pulled you back by your face and his eyes were hard on you, with this mixture of authority and utter need to fuck you. He could be both. 

"This is how this is gonna be. I'm going to throw you on that bed and fuck you the way you deserve. But I better not hear a single fucking sound leave those pretty lips of yours. Not tonight. Got it?"

Stay tuned for upcoming parts lovelies. Besitos<3

[cashmeremars]

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝐦.𝐥

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mark lee x non-idol!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you miss Mark, but he’s busy with work and you’re busy with school, so your relationship lives through a computer screen.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, established relationship, semi-secret relationship, mark sings you to sleep :(

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: soft boyfriend mark is the only mark that matters. i’ve had this in my drafts since 2018...

11:48 pm

12 more minutes until you’d get to see him again. 

You sighed as rays of blue light danced on your skin. You hadn’t heard from Mark in 2 weeks. His schedule had gotten so hectic preparing for the Dream comeback and the 127 tour, he hardly had time to think, let alone call you. Mark’s absence was difficult, but it was understandable. He was doing what he loved, even if it meant being sleep-deprived, overworked, and under-appreciated. You hated how the idol life took its toll on him, but he constantly reassured you that he was fine. 

With bags under his eyes, ever-so-slightly slumped shoulders, and a jitter in his fingers, he told you he was fine. So you told him you believed him, even though it split your heart in two to watch him suffer. You never wanted to pry because it might stress him out to really talk about his feelings, so the time you spent together was treated like an escape from reality; An escape from fame for Mark, and an escape from academia for you. 

Mark would tell you about a funny thing that Haechan did in the dorms, or read you a poem he had written while in the car heading to dance practice. Your favourite was when he would bring out his guitar and pluck haphazard melodies as you watched him through the screen. Then Mark would ask you about your day, and you’d tell him about the quaint little cafe you stumbled into after an exam, or the squirrels that you fed at the bus stop on your way to school. 

The few times that Mark would actually tell you about his NCT activities, he’d rave about how amazing tour practice has been, and how he wanted you in the crowd with him. On those days, you’d have to remind Mark that you couldn’t be anywhere near his professional activities because the chances of one of you slipping up and giving nosy fans or intruding journalists a reason to speculate Mark’s romantic life were too high. 

Then you’d fall into a suffocating silence until one of you changed the subject. 

11:58 pm

2 more minutes until you’d get to see him again.

Your heart melted into the floor as you tussled with the wires of your earphones. Should’ve just bought those Airpods, you thought to yourself. You opened up your laptop, hands shaking as you navigated toward the Facetime app. A green dot appeared next to your laptop camera, and you stared into your reflection. You analyzed the background presented on the screen with a sigh. Your room was a mess. Worse than it usually was. You pushed yourself out of your desk chair, practically sprinting around your bedroom trying to make it seem presentable. Mark had seen your bedroom in every manifestation, from organized to sloppy, but it had never been this bad. 

You tossed the dirty clothes laying on your bed into a hamper before adjusting your duvet. Your textbook sat open on your pillow, reminding you that you’d have to finish whatever chapter you were on once you were done indulging in fantasyland with Mark. You threw your bookmark into the bind of the textbook before slamming it closed. Reality could wait until tomorrow morning. The stuffed panda Mark gave you leaned on your headboard, greeting you with its permanent smile. Mark won the stuffed animal for you at a carnival in Chicago when he was on tour. He told you that the moment he saw it, he knew he had to win it for you. 45 minutes and $60 later, the panda was looped under Mark’s arm for the entirety of the tour until he was finally able to bring it back home to you. 

12:00 am

Your ears perked at the unmistakable melody ringing from your laptop. 

[Mark <3 is calling]

Your feet carried you to your computer in what felt like half a second. You plopped down onto your chair, fixing your hair before putting in your earphones and navigating toward the answer button.

“Yeobooooo,” Mark’s voice flooded your ears, allowing a riptide to form in your heart.

“Maaaarrrk,” you reply as the corners of your mouth began to upturn. You felt your cheeks warm up at the sight of Mark. He was dressed in an oversized grey hoodie, with flat hair, and his round glasses. You loved when he wore his glasses. You’d always teased him, calling it harry potter cosplay, but he was undeniably adorable. 

“Oh, God, you don’t even know how much I’ve missed you. I’ve been talking about you so much that Johnny actually banned me from talking about you,” Mark chuckled, “$2 fine every time I mention your name,” Mark explained. You felt your heart flutter knowing that Mark missed you as much as you missed him.

“Tell me about it. My friends groan whenever I bring you up when we’re hanging out on campus. I’ve been insufferable without you,” you sigh.

“Glad to know we’re in the same boat.” Mark’s hearty laugh warms your ears. “How’s school?” he continues. 

“It’s fine. Just the usual; tests, quizzes, labs, annoying professors, blah, blah. How’s idol life?” You ask.

“Same old. Dance practice, recordings, youtube content, variety shows, same as it always is,” Mark’s reply matches yours, embodying the mutual frustration with the repetitive monotony of your lives that you both feel. 

“I get it. It’s nice seeing you for a change, even if I’m technically not actually seeing you. I like hearing your voice.” You fiddle with your earphone wires.

“Yeah, I wish I could reach through the screen and just be there with you. I’ve really missed seeing you in person. Hearing your laugh, the way your nose crinkles, how warm your hugs always are,” Mark trails. You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You missed him more than you’d ever missed anyone. 

“Yeah, it sucks a lot. You know, at one point I started listening to those ASMR phone call things on youtube that your fans make of you. They’re actually quite well done,” You confess, opting to stare at your laptop keys instead of Mark.

“ASMR phone calls? I didn’t even know those existed,” he replied. He sounded more amused than weirded out. Mark was never judgemental, especially when it came to you. 

“Oh, well you do now I guess.” 

“I guess I need to record one of our phone calls so I have something to listen to as well,” Mark joked.

“I’ve sent you like 200 voice recordings in the past, though,” you laugh. Whenever something happened at school and you didn’t feel like typing, you would send Mark voice recordings of you detailing the events that had occurred. Mark always preferred those as he felt as though he were having a real-life conversation with you. 

“Oh yeah. I hadn’t even thought about that. I’ve just been suffering without your voice for no reason.” Mark pushed up his glasses. “Hey, is that the panda I got you?” He says as he leans further into his laptop camera to peek more into your bedroom. 

“Of course. I’ve kept it on my bed since you gave it to me. It still sort of smells like you,” You say as you get up from your chair and walk toward the panda.

“Probably because it was in my suitcase for like 2 months before I could give it to you,” Mark laughs. You give the panda a squeeze before walking back to your chair, placing the panda on your lap.

“I like it. It feels like you’re here even when you’re across the world,” You gaze at the panda once more. Noting how its right ear has started to flop down with time. 

“When do I get to see you?” Mark asks, adjusting the hood of his sweater.

“I’ve got three more weeks until the semester ends,” You say as you glance quickly at the calendar hung above your desk. 

“I’ve got three more weeks until the tour starts,” He sighs.

“So that gives us… 2 days?” You squint.

“2 days,” Mark confirmed.

“Is that enough time?” Your fingers start to tinker with the leg of the stuffed panda.

“If you’re willing to be a night owl, then it should be perfect,” He replied, running his hand through his dark hair. 

You and Mark hardly ever hung out during the day because of the risk of fans or sasaengs spotting you in public. So you’d usually hang out through the middle of the night, hanging out in parks, taking walks through your neighbourhood, or sneaking him into your house so you could watch movies together. It wasn’t ideal, but just being with him was enough. 

“I think it’ll work,” you smile. 

“Oh! Do you wanna hear something I’ve been working on?” Mark perks up, looking around his desk for a moment before locking eyes with something off-screen. 

“Of course.” You straighten your posture in your seat, anticipating whatever Mark has stored for you. Mark reaches over until his body is out of frame. He returns with his acoustic guitar in hand. 

“Okay, it’s a work in progress, and I don’t really have any lyrics for it, but I thought the melody was cool.” Mark begins strumming the guitar, closing his eyes as he allowed the melody to float from his fingers. 

It was beautiful. The melody was soft and sweet, a contrast to most of 127’s songs. He began humming along to the guitar, possibly singing what he imagined the lyrics should sound like. The song was pretty, even through the slightly muffled audio from your earphones. You leaned your head into your hands, watching him get lost in his music. It was amazing to watch him. You could only hope to find something that made you feel half as passionate as Mark was with music. His sleepless nights were worth everything in the world if it meant he got to create music. 

“How was that?” He asks, opening his eyes to gauge your reaction. 

“It was perfect, Mark.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at you. He was always so hypercritical of his own work. 

“Yeah, I really loved it.” you nod, “Do you know what you want the song to be about?” You continued. 

“Yeah. I think I want to make it a love song about a boy who meets a radiant girl that he can’t stop thinking about,” Mark looks at you expectantly, holding back his signature ping-pong giggle. 

“Would it be a stretch to assume that the song is about me?” you raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Not a stretch at all. The song is absolutely about you,” Mark’s smile seems to warm the atmosphere of your room. 

“So, would you release it with the group?” you glance at the mini NCT poster decorating your wall. 

“I think I would want it to be a solo song.” He tilts his head, quirking his eyebrows. 

“A solo?” your voice perks.

“Yeah, I mean if that ever happens again. I feel like it would be refreshing compared to the concept that I currently have going on.” Mark motions with his hands.

“I agree. The duality of man,” you joke. 

“And it’ll be like our secret special song or something. Only we would know that it’s about us,” He continues. 

“Well, us and the rest of your bandmates would know,” you say. 

“Right,” He smooths out the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“I really like watching you perform, Mark.” you lean closer to your camera, watching the way Mark becomes bashful under your gaze. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. His eyes remain locked on his keyboard as he scratched his forehead. He always got awkward when you complimented him. 

“I’m really proud of you, Mark. Even if the company takes you for granted, I see the effort you put into everything, and all I can say is that I think you’re phenomenal. You’re so talented, Mark. Everything that you do leaves me in awe,” You continue. 

Mark pauses for a moment, allowing your words to sink in, “I love you,” he replies. 

“I love you too, Mark.” You smile. 

“Do you wanna hear something else?” Mark asks, reaching for his guitar once again. You nod. You bring your knees to your chest, allowing your head to rest on them as you wait for him to start playing his next piece. You spent the next hour joking around, trying to come up with the most absurd lyrics as Mark strummed his guitar.

3:02 am

Your snores peppered Mark’s ears as he watched you through the computer screen. You’d fallen asleep accidentally about 30 minutes ago, but he didn’t have the heart to end the Facetime call because it meant he wouldn’t be able to see you again for a while. Mark placed his guitar on the floor before reaching for his phone. Your upper body was still in the frame as your head was leaning onto the desk. He could see the soft rise and fall of your shoulders through the pixelated screen. Mark always thought you were adorable when you slept. Your cheeks always puffed up and your mouth would twitch occasionally. Mark opened his camera app, laughing to himself as he zoomed in on your sleeping face. He snapped 3 photos before he started looking through them. Mark laughed again as he clicked on his favourite photo, making it your new contact photo. He sent the same photo as a text message to you, as a fun surprise for when you wake up. He closed his phone, opting to look at you once more. She looks peaceful, he thought to himself. The stress of school-work or exams didn’t matter to you when you were in slumber, and it made Mark’s heart swell. All he wanted was for you to be happy. Mark takes off his glasses, placing them down as he lays his head on his desk, mimicking your position.

“Good night,” he sighs, joining you in sleep.

masterlist

fic recs

[agirlwithdemonblood]

The Celebrity Next Door: Chapter 2 - Tensions Rise

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Chapter Summary: Sometimes its better to avoid your neighbours, especially the grumpy ones.

Warnings: Grumpy Jensen, swearing.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

"How are you liking Los Angeles so far?" Angela, my new boss, chuckled as she leaned against the doorway of my office. I shrugged, trying to summon a positive response.

"It's... different. I guess I haven't fully settled in yet," I replied warily.

Angela smiled reassuringly. "Give it time. LA has a way of growing on people. Plus, you'll probably run into more celebrities than you expect."

I laughed at the thought. Celebrities. Yeah, that would be fun to meet more celebrities.

I hesitated, debating whether to mention my encounter with Jensen Ackles, my grumpy, celebrity neighbour from yesterday. But I quickly realized she knew where I lived, and sharing his address wouldn't be wise.

"And how's your new office?" Angela asked, walking around the room.

I grinned, gesturing around the spacious room that came with my promotion. "It's perfect. Quite the upgrade from my office back in New York."

Angela nodded approvingly, her positivity contagious. One of the perks of working here was her cheerful presence.

"Well, I'll let you get back to it. We're glad to have you on board, Y/N!"

I smiled genuinely and nodded, "Thank you, Angela!"

The rest of the day dragged on as I navigated through new office protocols, met my coworkers, and sorted out administrative tasks. It wasn't much different from the routines in the New York branch, just with a touch of LA attached to it.

By 5:00 pm, I was eager to head home. Climbing into my truck, I couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that had settled in. New York was never this quiet; there was always a sense of hustle and bustle that gave me comfort but here, it was silent and isolating.

The drive home was quick, but noiseless. Pulling into my parking spot, I spotted a figure standing at my door, his back facing where I was standing. I cautiously stepped out of my car and the figure turned around, and I froze in my step.

Jensen.

I managed a shy smile and greeted him quietly. "Uh... Hi."

He returned a dry smile, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. "Hi. We didn't properly meet yesterday. I'm Jensen."

I extended my hand hesitantly, but he didn't reciprocate. Feeling awkward, I withdrew my hand and crossed my arms. "I'm Y/N."

He nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance.

"Well..." Jensen started, his gaze locking onto mine momentarily before quickly racing away. "I, uh, wanted to ask about the window. I'll cover the cost."

I shook my head, leaning against the railing. "It's already taken care of. Don't worry about it."

Confusion flickered across his face, as if my words didn't compute in his mind. "Katie broke it. I should pay."

I shook my head, standing straighter as the tension between us eased slightly. "It's fine. I work in insurance; getting it fixed was no big deal. Besides, save your money for the next window she breaks," I joked, immediately regretting my attempt at lightheartedness.

Jensen's demeanor shifted, reverting to the stern and irritated man I'd encountered the day before.

"Sorry," I apologized quickly, realizing my mistake. "That was my shitty attempt to lighten the mood."

He nodded briefly, descending the stairs past me and muttering a goodnight before disappearing into his house. If I could reach behind myself and kick my own ass for my stupid joke, I would have.

I have never been good at speaking with others, not really, especially with someone like Jensen. Unlike my professional appearance at work, I struggled with genuine interactions. Speaking to actual strangers, having a conversation and opening up-that I was terrible at.

It was something I always faked-the confidence. People wouldn't guess it by looking at me, but I was a pretty anxious person, it was a part of me that I didn't like being shown. It seemed like with Jensen, my secret was becoming unraveled.

As I headed back inside, a sense of loneliness and frustration washed over me. It was disheartening to realize I'd started off on the wrong foot with my neighbour, especially one as important as Jensen Ackles.

The next morning, I set up my computer in my home office. Working from home twice a week was a luxury that helped ease the transition to LA life.

After my second meeting of the day, I pulled off my headphones and the sound of shouting filled my ears. Curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped out onto my porch to see Jensen, phone in hand, yelling loudly enough to echo through the neighbourhood.

"You knew I had a fucking audition today! Half an hour's notice? Are you kidding me?" His words shooting out like venom causing my anxiety to rise.

I hesitated, debating whether to offer help despite our rocky start. There was an unexplainable urge to reach out, to make sure he was okay and it confused me.

Jensen hung up abruptly, slumping onto his stairs with defeat engraved across his face. My heart ached for him; beneath his gruff exterior, there was obviously something deeper going on with him.

In that moment, I made my decision. I was going to help him, or at least offer. I crossed my yard and nervously opened his gate, approaching cautiously. His head snapped up as I cleared my throat.

"Hi... I just wanted..." I started hesitantly before he rudely cut me off.

"Look, it was nice meeting you, but we're not that kind of neighbours," Jensen interjected sharply. "You don't need to keep coming over uninvited."

My smile wavered, my words caught in my throat. "What?"

"Is it because you know who I am? You want to get close to your famous neighbour? Want the scoop on my fucked up drama?" His tone was accusatory, his frustration evident.

I flinched, stung by his assumptions. "Are you kidding? Yes, I know who you are, but I couldn't care less. To me, you're just my neighbour, my grumpy ass neighbour who happens to be famous."

Jensen's expression wavered between disbelief and something unreadable.

"I came over to offer some help or somebody to talk to considering you were just screaming so loud, the entire damn block could hear you, but forget it. Screw being neighbourly."

His mouth hung open as he struggled to find words, but I didn't care what he had to say. I didn't want a response. I stormed back to my house, anger bubbling in my chest like sparkling water. My mind was clouded with anxiety and nerves, and I felt on the verge of collapsing.

As soon as I shut the door, reality hit me, flooding my head with his words and my own. I hated that I felt suffocated by a stupid argument with him, hated the tears threatening to pour, hated that he made me vulnerable and exposed a side of me I didn't know existed.

I hated living next to him. I hated that I ever knocked on his door.

I was done trying with him-done saying hello, offering a smile, or caring. I was fed up, finished.

Jensen Ackles was not a nice person, and I was done trying to be nice to him.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 3 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[catscidr]

im sorry i know i should be writing reqs but i just can’t stop thinking about slightly creepy office au coworker dottore...... im horn

you have a boring 9-5 job, trying to find joy in the mundane, else you go crazy. waking up to birds chirping outside of your bedroom window, the tasty to-go coffee and breakfast sandwich you always get in the morning, and your coworker greeting your still-sleepy self when you step into the office. always one to gossip, she’d motion for you to hurry up and sit at your cubicle so she can gush about whatever rumor was currently roaming the building. 

“have you seen zandik lately? his temper is worse than usual! think he just got broken up with or something? honestly, i see why his partner would call things off, it seems like he’s always prioritizing work over people...” you take a long sip of your coffee, relishing in the newfound energy that flooded your system. it takes you a minute to process your coworker’s claim. 

“how do you know he was even in a relationship in the first place?” you ask, scoffing in amusement at how fast her brain seemed to work; it was almost impressive, really. “well, he’s handsome, for one. and he’s loaded! i don’t understand how he can afford such a nice car with a salary like ours,” she sulks as she finishes her rambling. you take the opportunity to finish your food, setting your half-empty cup down to start prepping your workspace. 

“inheritance? or he’s crazy good at managing money,” you suggest. just as you thought your coworker was about to drop the topic, she perks up and slams her hand on her desk a tad bit too loudly. “oh! or maybe he works a second job? y’know, the cost of living is getting pretty high, so maybe he has a 5-9 on top of working here!” 

someone shoots her a look that says “it’s still early, lower your voice”, and she grins at them awkwardly before turning to look at you with a smile that rivals someone that just uncovered the cure to a deadly disease. 

you pause your typing, fingertips resting idly on the mechanical keyboard. “why do you care about what he’s up to, anyways? usually you avoid talking about zandik or any of the higher-ups because you know they’ll probably get us in trouble,” you point out, your shoulder getting hit as soon as the words leave your mouth. giggling lightly at how dramatic her reaction was, you turn your attention from your computer to your coworker. you’re met with a petrified expression and uncomfortable body language along with the lack of natural light behind you. 

“and why, pray tell, are we gossiping about my foul mood?” someone says from behind you, though you could recognize its owner anywhere. your blood runs cold— the warmth from your morning coffee having vanished from your body, not a single trace left in the presence of the office’s most intimidating employee (arguably). your coworker flashes him a wide, albeit shaky smile, and shakes her head a bit too quickly for it to be considered normal. 

“n-not gossiping! we’re just concerned for your health! right?” she says your name, nudging your foot from underneath the desk. you don’t have time to decide whether you want to detach yourself from your predicament or to go along with her bullshit because zandik bends down to your level, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his dull eyes as he speaks for you. “then avoid spreading rumors about my personal life, it gives me a headache,” he murmurs quietly.  

you’d catch the unspoken threat in his voice if you weren’t so flustered. he was so close you could smell his cologne— musky sandalwood that made your head spin, losing whatever train of thought you had just seconds ago. “s-sorry,” you’re the one that apologizes since your coworker was frozen in fear, looking more like a deer facing headlights than an office worker. 

zandik’s lips stretch wider, vermillion eyes narrowing at her before flickering over to you. you immediately look away, suddenly now noticing the sheer lack of space between you two. if what you were doing before was unprofessional, then this was beating it by a landslide. although you couldn't help but wish that he bent down to your level more often. though, at the same time, he looked good looking down at you…

he stays like this for a few more uncomfortable seconds before straightening his back and walking away, no words spoken between the three of you. your coworker exhales a breath she had been holding in, and turns to face her desk in silence. 

you're left with a rapidly beating heart and the need to take a bathroom break even though you just clocked in not even ten minutes ago.

[pensivegreen]

CH 2: Echoes of Darkness

Whispers In The Dark

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Note: not canon, diverges from storyline. Slow burn. Also, my first time attempting to actually write.

TW: typical criminal minds description of crime and criminal behavior

WC: 1.3 K

Ringing begins to pull you from sleep.

“Hotchner” Hotch states answering the intrusive noise. Naturally, he has a deep voice yet layered grogginess adds a deeper timbre that nearly has you groaning out involuntarily. You begin turning over to stare at your boss, noticing that the early morning light is just making its way into the room.

Hotch lay on his back with an arm behind his head and the other cradling the phone to his head. A course of hums rattle in his throat as the phone call progresses. “I understand, I’ll inform my team and head out”.

You continue to stare at Hotch waiting for an explanation for the unexpected wake-up call. He drops the hand from his ear onto the mattress letting out a heavy sigh. Hotch’s head pivots to look over at your curled-up form in the other bed, just being able to make out your open eyes from dawn's arrival.

“They found another body.”

You hum out in understanding, “he is picking up the pace and showing off”.

“It seems that way,” Hotch moves, sitting on the bed with his feet flat on the ground. Rubbing a hand across his face in what you perceive as stress, “you go ahead and get ready first I’ll call everyone and fill them in.”

· · ─────── · ୨୧ · ─────── · ·

Everyone gathers in the conference room at the station as Lieutenant Cook explains the details of last night's crime scene. Another girl has been found in a nearby park, fitting the same pattern of violence that has been troubling the team for weeks. The atmosphere is tense as the team listens intently, aware that the pressure to catch the perpetrator is mounting.

Rossi, who has been poring over the case file boxes, suddenly perks up after reviewing the new crime scene forensics. “Guys, listen to this,” he calls out, breaking the heavy silence. “The same type of fibers were found at every crime scene.” His revelation sends a ripple of realization through the room, providing a potential lead in their investigation.

Reid, who has been working on creating a geographical profile for the offender and the crime scenes, looks up with renewed interest. “Let me integrate that into the profile,” he says before dialing Garcia. “Garcia, I need you to help pinpoint potential locations. We’re looking for textile buildings that match this geographical pattern.”

After a few moments of computing, Garcia replies, “Reid, I need more information to narrow it down.”

Rossi interjects, “Garcia, look up companies that use the same material the fibers are made of. We need to find out any places locally that might be dealing with these specific fibers.”

Moments later, Garcia’s voice comes back excitedly, “Got it! There are three warehouses in the area using the same materials found at the crime scenes.”

“Morgan, Y/N, and I will each take one warehouse to canvas. Our main objective is to question the supervisors about their employees.” Hotch is already getting up before everyone can agree. “Prentiss and Rossi I want you to go over all the victimology again. Look for any possible connections between the victims that we might have missed. Focus on their routines, social circles, and any recent changes in their lives."

He turns to Reid next. "Reid, you continue working on the geographical profile with Garcia. Use the information about the fibers to narrow down potential areas where the perpetrator might be based or frequent. Make sure to cross-reference with any known locations of interest we've identified so far."

· · ─────── · ୨୧ · ─────── · ·

The industrial area is eerily quiet considering the gravity of what you are investigating. The desolation and stillness only add to the tension, making every sound seem magnified.

Arriving at the location assigned to you, you are surprised to find not a large warehouse but a small, nondescript carpentry business. The building is unremarkable, blending seamlessly into its surroundings. The sign reads “Handcrafted by James.” The name seems innocent enough, but you're well aware that appearances can be deceiving. Stepping inside, you are greeted by the owner, a middle-aged man with a warm smile and a polite demeanor. His calm and friendly nature seems almost out of place.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” he asks, his eyes twinkling kindly. There is no hint of malice or deceit in his expression, which makes you all the more wary.

Introducing yourself and explaining the situation briefly, he welcomes you inside. “Please, have a seat,” he offers, motioning towards a small seating area. “I am going to grab a water, would you like one?” His hospitality is disarming, almost making you forget the danger you might be in.

You nod, trying to maintain a professional distance despite his disarming kindness. “Thank you, that would be nice.”

As the man heads to the back of the workshop, you begin scanning the room. Your eyes take in the rows of sharp tools, meticulously organized on the walls. Various pieces of wood are in the process of being shaped, each one a testament to the man's skill and craftsmanship. However, what catches your attention is an unsettling number of leather bindings scattered around the workshop. They seem out of place in a carpentry shop, raising questions about their purpose.

A chill runs down your spine just as you begin to piece together the potential danger. Dangling on the wall in front of you is a handful of charms, the exact ones found at every crime scene. Before you can react, a sharp pain explodes at the back of your head. The world spins and your vision fades as you fall to the floor. The realization sinks in—the man holds a blunt object in hand, and you are now caught in the web of the unsub.

· · ─────── · ୨୧ · ─────── · ·

Hotch makes it back to the station, finding everyone rummaging through papers. Glancing around, someone is missing.

“Where’s y/l/n?”

Everyone’s heads shoot up and their hands still as the team gazes around the room.

“I haven’t heard from her but I figured she was in contact with you,” Morgan ascertains. Y/N was known for sometimes ignoring everyone but Hotch. She could get too wrapped up in her thoughts not wanting to lose her train of thought. Hotch was always the trump card, not just because he was her boss but also because he had a unique way of breaking through her focus when necessary.

Hotch's eyes narrow, sensing something is off. “She was supposed to check in,” he states, his voice betraying a hint of worry he rarely shows.

The team quickly mobilizes, tracing Y/N’s last known location to the small carpentry shop, “Handcrafted by James.” As they arrive, the eerie quiet of the industrial area heightens their anxiety. Hotch’s heart pounds in his chest, a mix of professional concern and personal dread gnawing at him.

Entering the shop, they call out but receive no response. The place seems deserted. Moving further inside, they notice signs of a struggle—a large piece of hardwood lying on the floor, tools scattered, and then, the unmistakable sight of blood on the floor. Hotch’s breath catches as he spots Y/N’s phone lying abandoned nearby. The realization is immediate and harsh: she’s been taken.

Rossi kneels to inspect the blood, confirming their worst fears. “It’s fresh,” he says grimly.

Hotch stands rigid, his jaw clenched tightly. Inside, a storm of emotions rages—fear, anger, guilt. He feels responsible for not being there, for not anticipating this. His mind races with thoughts of Y/N, alone and in danger. He let her down just like Elle. Just like Haley.

Morgan places a reassuring hand on Hotch’s shoulder, sensing his internal turmoil. “We’ll find her, Hotch. We won’t stop until we do.”

Hotch nods, his resolve hardening. “We need to move fast. Garcia, I need you to track any recent activity from the owner of this shop. Reid, update the geographical profile with this location. Morgan, Prentiss—start canvassing the area. Someone has to have seen something.”

As the team springs into action, Hotch silently vows to do whatever it takes to bring Y/N back safely. The weight of his responsibility feels crushing, but he channels it into determination.

[eumivrse]

NEVERTHELESS : armin arlert

summary there’s no such thing as fate. being laced in a relationship with someone who you’re not meant to be with was the last thing you expected. nevertheless–

warning(s) oral, semi-public, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, 69, co-workers to lovers, slight angst, catcalling, armin and reader are both secretaries for eren

word count 9,069

author’s note the title and some of the phrases were inspired by the k-drama, nevertheless, even though i really fucking hated the drama itself LMFAO. also armin was based on mr. cha from business proposal cuz yum.

Routines, you love ‘em.

Nothing sounds better than your whole day already mapped out in your head to avoid any inconveniences. Wake up, get ready for the day, work your 9-5 office job, go home, get ready for bed, sleep, then repeat.

People tend to push this negative narrative on office jobs, but you pay no mind to it. You prefer it this way anyways– you’re earning enough money and you’re cruising through life smoothly.

You’re in your shared office right now with your partner secretary, timidly asking, “Arlert, can you go with me to pick up proposal documents for the meeting on Friday?”

Your job isn’t bad at all. Being employed right under the CEO as his secretary has its perks, but it’s hard to ignore his other secretary's distant behavior towards you. He frequently avoids you unless it’s for work, yet he confuses you whenever he sees you struggling and would be the first to help you.

Instead of saying anything, he just glanced up from his computer to acknowledge your existence, nodded, then went out the room ahead of you without a word.

See?

But just a month ago, when there was a dispute between you and one of the marketing managers, right when the other person stepped closer and had their hand balled into a fist ready to swing at you, he pulled you away to the office and offered you water and support, stammering and fumbling with his words as if he did something wrong. Oftentimes, he seems to want to say something to you and it leaves you skeptical. What, is there a piece of lettuce stuck in between your teeth? You don’t believe that you’re that ditzy, but you certainly feel that way when you’re around him.

And not only is he the CEO’s right hand man, he’s the Jaeger family’s adopted son, meaning he’s just as significant of a figure as your boss. The only reason he’s below him in terms of occupation is because he chose to– even though in technicality, he’s much more qualified than Jaeger. And though your position equates to his, he’s much more experienced than you are since he knows what pleases Jaeger — they’ve lived together for fuck’s sake.

You weren’t going to lie, you can admit that you’ve checked him out a few times. What can you say, he has an ass and a yummy bod, his uniform that included slacks and a button up doing him justice. Though he’s never piqued your interest — considering how you work with him. You and him are supposed to be a team, yet you feel so apart.

You had an inkling that maybe he had feelings for you but that’s just thinking of yourself too highly. He’s the same way with everyone else, introverted and antsy. That’s why he let his brother take the position as CEO.

Nevertheless, he’s never wronged you in any way, so you let go of speculations and separated your opinions from work.

Jaeger had some of his father’s business friends over in his office today. As per, he ordered you to brew his morning coffee as well as extra for his guests while Arlert treats them with hospitality. As you went into the dry room to place the drinks down on the glass coffee table, you already felt stiff as if you were being analyzed — specifically by the oldest man in the room — as you bent down to place his drink in front of him. It’s uncomfortable being observed like this; you were wearing a pencil skirt today, nothing scandalous, but nonetheless you felt uneasy.

The two other guests said their thank you and you were about to leave to give privacy, until the man that was checking you out, blurted, “Jaeger, you let things like that run around here?” He was obviously referring to you, pointing his chin at your direction.

Even though you wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, you couldn’t. You’ve never been catcalled like this, and it’s twice as embarrassing that the first time had to happen in front of your boss and your co-worker. Your back is turned towards the rest of them, hand wrapped around the cold knob, frozen in place.

“Let’s be professional here, yeah?” Jaeger sighs as he grabs a stack of papers in front of him. Your hand quietly turned the knob and you exited out of the room, though you couldn’t help but just stand outside and try to recuperate from what you just heard.

Instead of dropping the topic, the man went on. “I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Jaeger answers, his patience running thin. “She’s my secretary. Nothing more and nothing less. I’m not quite sure what you’re trying to imply.”

“If she’s up for a part time job… you know I’m in need of a new assistant. You don’t really need two secretaries after all, I’m guessing. You’re a big boy.” Your stomach churned and your limbs felt weak, the next thing you know, you hear Arlert raise his voice.

“Get out.” Armin’s tone is filled with disgust and thus, you speed walk off the vicinity and into the room where your shared office with Armin is as you hear the voices in Jaeger’s room get more intense by the second.

You’ve never heard him raise his voice, much less on someone who seems important for the growth of the company. You perceive yourself as someone trivial to him, so why would he go the extra mile to protect you?

As you sit down, you see your faint reflection on the computer screen. You stare at yourself, cheeks flared up in heat due to how ashamed you are. Maybe if you’ve worn slacks instead of a skirt this wouldn’t have happened, maybe your boss didn’t have to be put into that position, maybe then—

“Are you okay?” A stern, yet gentle voice shatters the self-deprecating thoughts that’s straining your head. You turn your chair around and it’s Arlert behind you, arms crossed, head looking down to meet your eyes for what seems like the first time.  

You stammer as you look away, “Yes- yeah.” Drops of tears fell and dampened the carpet beneath you, losing the fight of trying to hold back tears. Cupping your face with your hands, you quietly snivel in front of your partner, him kneeling to see you eye-level, reaching into his pocket and handing you a handkerchief as his own way of comforting you.

As you take the checkered cloth from him, your eyes puffy, he continues, “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Eren said can take the rest of the day off.” And though you couldn’t face him in the eye, you take note of his left cheek: swollen and flushed red.

“Hey… did you get hurt?” You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, but hesitated knowing how he is.

There was no use of lying, even a kid can decipher the fact that he’s been struck across the face. “It’s okay, a little ice can fix it. Don’t worry about me and rest, alright?”

You know it was a lie— he wasn’t okay, but nevertheless—

“Okay.”

Weeks have passed since then and oddly enough, he’s been treating you differently. In other words, he’s been more polite, visiting your desk more often, and such. It’s even gotten to the point where you’ve exchanged flirtatious glances, staring at each other for a bit too long, but both of you always quickly turn away to avoid any more awkwardness.

In general, your perception of him has changed and if this couldn’t be cliche enough, you’ve caught a little crush on him. You didn’t take it seriously though, as you figured that this is probably just from your lack of romance and your heart is mistaking your co-worker as someone you could potentially have a romantic relationship with.

Your fellow colleagues have noticed his sincerity towards you as well. By you— meaning that he’s still the same stoic person towards everyone else.

Tonight is the annual office Christmas party and instead of renting a proper venue, the president decided why not hold it on the floor you work on instead. Parties aren’t your forte, but you don’t mind. After all, it’s part of the job and to get on people’s good side. Avoiding this will just cause others to look at you as someone who’s arrogant.

It’s part of your routine to loosen up once in a while, so you didn’t hold back on the drinks. It wasn’t to the point where you felt like the world was spinning, but you obviously weren’t your… usual self. Calm, collected, and professional.

“Are you going to be alright going home yourself?” Sasha’s arm was draped over you as you walked her to the front of the building to wait for her Uber.

“Of course! I’m no baby!” She laughs maniacally, leading to you wondering how she landed on an office job with this energetic personality of hers.

After she got in the black sedan, you went back inside, hopped in the elevator, and when you got to your designated floor, you peeked through the small open crack of your office room as you were about to head home yourself. Arlert was typing away on his laptop, a bottle of whiskey along with a small shot glass sitting atop the wooden surface of his table.

“You can come in, you know.” He sighs, glancing at you for a moment then back on the screen in front of him, glasses reflecting the white sheen from the laptop. You entered the room, struggling to walk properly as you plop on the green velvet couch in the middle of the spacious room. You weren’t wasted by any means, it was just your damn 3 inch stilettos getting in the way.

Too tired to physically bend down and take the uncomfortable shoes off you murmur, “Why weren’t you out there with everyone else?”

“I prefer it to be quiet.” He clicks away on his keyboard, foot tapping on the carpet, the faint music blaring through the walls. The room was dim, the only light coming from his laptop and the open blinds. “Care for a drink?” He takes out another glass from his drawer, pops off the decanter of the whiskey and you watch the liquid meld onto the shape of the round glass.

You honestly don't feel like consuming anymore alcohol since you need to drive home, but your mind is urging you to take the drink anyways as a chance to spend more time with him. After balancing yourself, you sauntered towards him, took the drink in hand, and hopped so you could sit on his desk.

Clearly being faded is giving you more self-confidence, you’d never do this if you’re sober. You had no underlying intentions, you just wanted to unravel a layer of you he’s never seen before since you’ve led yourself to believe that he just thinks of you as his weak hearted co-worker and that’s why he’s treating you nicely and with care. Closing his laptop and walking around to lean against the edge of the desk next to you, you clink your glasses together and drink away.

“Good job on your presentation today, even Eren couldn’t make Ackerman as agreeable as you did,” His compliment only made you giggle. Placing your drink back down, you answer with a lopsided grin, “Well, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

It was sudden when he felt your head against his shoulder, not paying attention to the finger that slid around the edge of his jawline and the tilt that startled him, your noses nearly bumping. “Are you going to give me a reward?” You murmur, the corner of your lip turning up into a smirk.

“What would you like?” He wasn’t retaliating at all which only egged you on to go further.

You leaned to press your lips on his, the realization of how insane you are for doing this finally hitting you, but it’s too late. The repercussions for being unprofessional in the workplace can be dire, so you try to pull away with the assumption that Arlert will reprimand you. Before you could even part, he just pulled you back in, deepening the intimate moment and whimpering against your mouth from mere desperation.

One of his hands was around the back of your neck without force, but to imply that he wishes to keep going. You laced your fingers on his blonde locks, drawing his face closer as you nibbled on his bottom lip. When his other hand nipped on your collar button, you became aware of the buzzing in your heart.

The hunger and yearn you’ve had for him.

But is this really ethical? A few minutes of pleasure can cost you your career.

When half your button-up came undone, bra peeking in the crevice it revealed, you pushed him as lightly as you could.

Immediately, he stopped touching you and distanced himself by a few inches. “I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” He apologizes.

“No- it’s not you… it’s just that- I’ve never… God, this is embarrassing.” Yes, you’re a virgin and indirectly admitting it to your co-worker who was in the process of taking it is making you cringe. A part of you thought that you should’ve just kept going without telling him, but another part of you is afraid, what if it hurts?

What if you start bleeding and he gets icked out over it?

It’s not as if you’ve never had a significant other, you’ve just never gotten past second base because of the reasons just mentioned.

You were fiddling with your hands, trying to avoid looking at him at all until he pushed your chin with his finger to meet his eyes. His complexion is disheveled, strands of hair out of place and a smear of your lipstick apparent on the corner of his cheek. He seemed a little drowsy himself, his eyes are drooping, but impressively, he’s able to keep a good posture.

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing, but it’s up to you whether or not you want to proceed.” His words were reassuring with no doubt; you felt comfortable with him being your first, it was just a matter of judgment.

“We can keep going…” you shyly mumble, fingers grasping on his tie and pulling him back in for a kiss. Your skin felt cold, goosebumps forming from the anxiety bubbling in your stomach mixed with the fact that it’s actually freezing in the room you’re in at the moment.

Arlert noticed this when he felt your body trembling and your breathing hitch, ailing the tension by pressing soft kisses down your neck, one hand now past your top, cupping your boob under the fabric of your bra. He allowed his hand to squeeze around the swell of your breast, thumb flicking on your nipple.

Gasping, you mewl, “Arlert—“ he hushed you by putting his thumb over your lips. “Drop the formalities. Forget about our positions at least for tonight, okay?” You nod your head yes, hands slipping from under his shirt to frantically removing his buttons from its respective holes to shed Armin off his top. Being distracted enough, you didn’t take note of his hand sliding under your skirt and onto your thigh, finger teasing the cloth covering your pussy.

Shuddering, you squeeze your thighs back together out of instinct, Armin just prying them back open. He went down on his knees, kneeling in front of you while keeping your legs apart, taking a moment to appreciate the fresh view upon him.

The idea that he’s going to be your first drives him insane, more so that he’s not sober. It gives him a sense of possessiveness, the fact that his junior secretary is still a pure virgin. Still, he wanted to make sure you’re getting the best of the best instead of you feeling forced to do something you aren’t up for.

After all, it’s the least he could do. You’ve contributed a lot to the company— his family, and you share a lot of the same qualities which makes you two a great team.

Your panties were definitely soaked and Armin proceeded by pulling them down and tossing it over the headrest of his chair behind you. It felt bizarre that one of the company’s biggest names is kneeling in front of you, half naked and in between your thighs. “Are you sure you want to do this?” You mutter.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? I’m fine, but I need to know if you’re good. As soon as you start to feel… unsettled, let me know and we’ll pretend this never happened.” His tone had a hint of tenderness, but still domineering. Your fingers are curled on the edge of the desk, Armin delicately trailing pecks to your inner thigh and rolling your skirt up to give him more allowance.

The tip of his tongue sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body as he licked your clit and down the slit of your cunt. You shivered, Armin gazing up and catching you biting your lip to prevent yourself from being too noisy. He chuckles, hands wrapping around the meat of your thighs, “Don’t be shy on me now, I thought you wanted a reward, sweet girl.” At this point, he’s lost all sense of logic, all he wants to see— to hear —now is just you, you, you.

With fingers laced and gripped tighter on his hair, you pushed his face further on you, his lips brushing and nibbling right where you wanted it. “A-Armin—“ You hesitated to cry out his name, yet it’s the only word you can think of.

On the other side of the wall, a dull mixture of music and mumbles of co-workers passing by the room are caught by the ears while Armin slides his tongue in between your folds, hole leaking with arousal.

While you fought to squeeze his head in between your thighs, he’d only push them out and moan, piling onto the sheer heat that you’re experiencing within your pussy. He puckers his lips, pushing two of his fingers in your plush walls. “So sweet…” He reveres, mesmerized to say the least.

Fuck, you were tight, Armin told himself.

He offered his free hand for you to clasp onto to assure that he isn’t hurting you. You grab ahold of it while his fingers stretched you apart, a slight squelch noise painting your cheeks with heat out of embarrassment.

You weren’t going to lie, it did hurt.

Did.

After a few pumps, Armin was able to slip his digits in and out with ease, curling them up when they’re knuckle deep, and it drove you over the edge. It’s different when someone else does it for you, it’s never felt like this when you were experimenting by yourself.

You were practically pulling on his hand, heavy squeezes letting him know that you’re close. With repeated mumbles of his name, you announced, “Armin, Armin, I’m so— hah, god, I think— I think I’m close…” Your whole body was stiff, head shifted back and eyes set on the ceiling as Armin added the tip of his tongue on your clit. He wasn’t rushing you to your orgasm at all, but he’s precise, he knew immediately when he hit your spot and repeatedly arched his fingers in that angle.

Coating his fingers with your slick, you cried in silence, still sober enough to realize that this isn’t your bedroom and there’s people constantly walking back and forth by this room. Armin used his thumb to swipe languid circles on your clit, soothing you of your orgasm, massaging your inner thigh with his other hand, mumbling, “You’re okay, you’re okay… you did so well, love.”

You kept shuddering even as he got up on his feet after being on his knees, tugging on your waist slightly, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in for a longing kiss, lips gentle and with a slight tinge of your arousal apparent on his taste. Craving for more, you sneak your hand in between his pants to get a feel of the rigid texture against his boxers.

You giggle, pulling away from him. “Mm- you’re hard.”

“I just saw a beautiful woman cum in front of me, who wouldn’t be?” He smiles drunkenly, taking a chunk of your cheek in between his fingers to pinch you.

You could only feel flustered at his comment, not knowing what to say after that — you aren’t particularly used to someone complimenting you in that manner.

In a world where this situation might seem immoral, to you and Armin at this exact moment, it just felt… right.

You give him the green light. “Please… continue.”

His eyes flickered with surprise. “Are you sure you’re ready? It- it doesn’t have to be right now, we can take a rain check-“ Shushing him with your finger, you chuckled for two reasons.

First reason, you decided to verbalize. “Why are you talking as if it’s as simple as a team dinner? You’re so cute, Arlert- I mean- Armin.”

Second reason? This whole thing is just a fling. The most that’ll come of it is just more sexual tension in the workplace and probably awkwardness, but what are the chances of that happening when your personalities won’t allow that to happen?

If this is going to be your way for your feelings to fade into a memory, then you’ll take it. You’ll go to work on Monday pretending like it was just a wet dream, and avoid eye contact with him until you clear your head of it.

But unfortunately for your little innocent head, feelings don’t work like that.

Your reassurance was enough said, he slips his hand into his wallet to search for a condom, which luckily he had one, unbuckles his belt, then pulls his pants down. The lump against the fabric of his boxers seemed as if it was begging for fresh air, you pulled his briefs down to his mid-thighs as he bent over to place kisses on your neck.

His cock was on the lengthier side, tip flushed pink and oozing with pre-cum. You wrap your hand around it with a light squeeze, gliding up and down lazily. He groaned your name right up in your ear, hands traveling all over your body, holding onto you like he’s been longing for this more than you have.

A stroke up, then down, roll your thumb on the tip, and repeat. “Holy shit, oh yeah. Oh god yeah…” Occasional grunts turned into chants of mewls and cries before you swallowed his pleas with your lips. It felt a little empowering to have this much control over your senior, so safe to say that you were eating this up.

He completely submerged himself under your touch, the vanilla scent of his hair vigorating the nerves of your nose. Armin felt weak in the knees the more you teased him by denying him of his release, one twitch oh his cock means your strokes would get twice as slow as prior. He gasps as you parted, “Oh fuck, oh fuck—! baby… please make me cum… please…”

Not like you were planning on teasing him any further, but he came almost straight away, warm cum spurting on your hand and the edge of the desk, in between your thighs. “Fuck… thank you, darling.” He sighs, unwrapping the condom from the packet and slipping it around his cock.

“God, Armin.” You whimpered when he slid his cock up and down your slit, tip bumping against your clit with each slip. Armin’s hand kept your thighs pried as he positioned himself to enter the crown of his cock past your hole.

You nearly screeched, lips parting, fingernails etching onto Armin’s shoulder blades. ”Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ll be as slow as you need to.” He captures you by the lips, comforting you as you engulf him whole. Whining into the kiss, his warm hand caressed your tear-stained cheek, thumb swiping away the tear that rolled down your face.

A few inches in and you weren’t moaning into his mouth because of the burning sensation, it became bearable— pleasurable. Armin was being as careful as he could, his chest nearly touching yours as he bottomed you out.

“Ready?”

“Yes…” And with that, he drags his girth out your hole, until it was only his tip stretching you. One slam of his hips and you were forced to choke in your moans, a hand keeping your thighs apart while the other hoists your skirt up your waist. If he could be honest, he wished you weren’t being modest with making noise. In his drunk point-of-view, who would even care that the CEO’s two secretaries are screwing in their office when everyone else is having their own fun outside?

You muttered curses while he drilled into you, his hips not too fast that it was painful, but not too sluggish that you were left bored. Armin pressed soft pecks on your jawline, hand sneaking up and fondling with your breast, nipple in between his fingers.

“Ah- mm— hah- Armin-“ You cry, his free palm wrapping around your ankle and bending it towards you, one knee against your chest. Armin’s face was warm, eyes nearly brimmed with tears to how good your pussy felt.

He groans, grabbing your chin to pull your eyes on him without faltering the speed of hips. “How does it feel having me take your virginity, hm?” He knew how you felt judging by the way your face is making that fucked out expression, drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth, but he wanted to hear it.

Quivering, you whisper as he lets go of your face, “I love it, I love it s’much.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Greedy bastard, he totally heard it. Your slick frothed and pooled on the wooden luster of the desk, coating his cock while his balls pressed up against the base of your ass with each thrust.

Your ankle felt a bruising pain with his tight grip, your nails clawing on his back while you raised your voice, feeding into his covetous desires. “Armin—! Fuck, I love it. It’s- it’s so good, baby please.” You’re practically babbling nonsense, words slurred and barely coherent.

With each slam, the desk rumbled, pens and organized documents plummeting off the desk and scattering all over the carpet floor. Your hand went up to cup his face, thumb pressing on his lips and in his mouth. His tongue swirled around your finger, humming while you struggled to keep still.

“Hah- yes, yes… taking me so well,” Armin praises, forehead clashing against yours, hunching himself over to lick your lips open and slip his tongue in. You took a fist full of his hair to pull him closer, your body leaning back until you were laying on the table, legs pulled to rest against his shoulders. Each slam of his cock progressively turned rougher, his thighs slapping on the back of yours as he threw his head back, the evening glow gleaming through the curtains and on his Adam’s apple glossed with sweat.

It’s as if your walls were molded just for him, you were so good, pussy clamping onto his cock like a goddamn champ. Armin mumbles without his hips faltering, “Would it be okay if- if I change it up?”

“Yes— holy, fuck—“ You were folded in half, Armin pushing the back of your thighs. It was getting harder to breathe, but he put you in a position that allowed him to plunge his cock deeper, penetrating your g-spot. Your body is tense, teeth sinking on your bottom lip while Armin kept a tight push on your thighs, his eyes glued to how your creamy cunt stretches nicely for him. Using the tips of your finger to relieve the ache of your clit, you yelped, a stream of liquid spurting out of your hole.

“Fuck… you fucking squirted…” He groans, leaning back down to kiss you as he cums. He lets go of your exhausted legs, hands now cupping and massaging your boobs to help you come down from the intense stimulation. Your breathing stuttered when he pulled out to take his condom off, your lower half feeling numb and limp.

“Thank you, Armin,” You whisper.

“Of course, love.” He chuckles.

You’re aware that it has already begun, you started something you know you shouldn’t have, but nevertheless—

It’s the next morning, Saturday, meaning you’re off.

Eyes slowly snapping open, your brain immediately went into panic mode. You weren’t in your apartment and your body felt like it got hit by a truck. The room you’re in was unfamiliar, it was in the color pearl as opposed to your creme walls and the decor was off too– it’s not suited to your taste. Your eyes wandered to see picture frames on the white oak nightstand of Arlert, Mr. Jaeger, and their family.

Arlert… Mr. Jaeger… wait.

“Good morning.” A voice interrupted your train of thought. It was Arlert, carrying a tray with a bowl of warm soup and a glass of water. Hardly remembering how you ended up here, you just nodded as he sat on the edge of the bed, placing the tray on the nightstand and handing you the glass of water.

You held the cup with both your hands, and took a sip, clearing your throat, then asking, “Um… so how did I end up here? Don’t tell me I went batshit insane and-“

“We slept together.” He cuts you off, the water almost splashing out of the glass as you were taking your second sip.

Those words immediately struck you and you were able to recover some patches of yesterday’s events. Specifically the part where you threw yourself at him.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

This isn’t right, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s your co-worker, your work partner. Sure, you have feelings for him but that was supposed to be suppressed.

The silence felt too thick even for Arlert. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to come home by yourself after all that, so I took you to my place. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

You weren’t angry nor disappointed at him. You felt stupid that you could barely remember the first time you had sex. Your memory is so fogged, you forgot everything past when you kissed him. Plus, he’s the president’s son. If word gets out, you’d be lucky if the company just lets you go quietly. No, rumors will start to spread about how you were just sleeping around to get to your current position. You’ve worked too hard to prove yourself competent, you’re not going to risk everything just for some temporary fun.

Eventually composing yourself, you take your belongings from the lounge chair next to you and slip your shoes on, as hard as they already are to walk on without the ache on your legs. “I’m sorry… uh- can we pretend this never happened?” Maybe you should’ve worded it more nicely.

In a perfect world, it would’ve been nice to entertain the idea of having a relationship with Arlert. He’s smart, handsome, and he’s quite caring once he lets you in his personal bubble.

Armin’s heart sunk, his mouth shaping from a smile to a blank stare. “What do you mean ‘pretend it never happened’?”

“You know… that it was null and void.” You purse your lips, leaving him with that cruel statement while you flee the room with your head hung low.

You couldn’t bear to look at him after saying those harsh words, he didn’t even bother to run after you.

But that’s that, you tell yourself as you hopped in the elevator. Maybe you’ll just take a few days off of work and hope for the best.

You’re aware that there’s no turning back no matter what you say. Nevertheless—

Needless to say that you couldn’t skip work after the weekend that felt like lasted forever. Jaeger will end up interrogating you, and you’d rather not make it obvious that you’re avoiding a certain someone.

Arlert didn’t show any signs of concern, he treated you the same way and gave you your desired space. You did the same, making sure no one will suspect anything, which went on for a few consecutive weeks.

He’d constantly try to approach you after work, but you’d always excuse yourself first and hurry down to your vehicle to get away as soon as possible. You’ve dug yourself a hole by saying you never want anything to do with him again, ashamed of yourself for not remembering what had happened that night.

Even so, fate is always somehow always against your wishes, thus Eren assigned you both to travel for the weekend since his terminally ill grandfather wished for a specific kind of bread only available at a bakery 4 hours away from town. You offered if you could just do the task yourself since it’s just bread, but Jaeger insisted on having Arlert by your side to secure your safety.

Neither of you could refuse, it is Arlert’s grandfather and it’s part of your job to aid him out of respect as he’s the former president.

You drove there right after work, in a separate car from Arlert. The drive was silent besides the mellow jazz from the aux. Your fingers were tight on the steering wheel, barely able to relax the whole way there as you’re about to spend the weekend alone with him.

It was around midnight when you got to the hotel, Jaeger offered to book a room since he has some connections with the owner. Arlert had already arrived, waiting for you in the front, glancing at his watch then up to see you walking to the front steps.

“Would you like dinner first before we check in?” He offers, hand rubbing the back of his head.

“Uh…” you were planning on making some excuse, but your stomach said otherwise.

You’re here for work after all, not for some cheesy romance bullshit.

You grin meekly. “Sure.”

Dinner was quiet, yet uncomfortable. You had it right in the hotel, the menu prices almost got your heart to flat line, but Arlert slipped a company credit card out of his pocket to assure you.

You barely spoke, the only conversation you really had was about the meeting today, nothing outside of work.

The sounds of silverware clanking on the ceramic plates and other people’s chattering filled your ears, soon interrupted when Arlert blurted out, “So um, Eren only booked a one bed-room on accident. I’ll stay on the sofa and you can take the bed.”

You kept silent, acknowledging him by nodding, but for some reason you felt unsatisfied that he’d rather sleep on the couch than share a bed with you, even though it’s clear that he’s respecting your wishes. It’s agitating — enough that you wanted to blurt what you’re feeling right here and now.

“Arlert-“

“It’s okay. ‘Just pretend nothing ever happened’, right? You don’t have to feel like you have to avoid me anymore.” He didn’t even make eye contact, blue eyes latched onto the slab of steak in front of him.

You’ve never felt so conflicted in your life. All the signals in your brain is telling you that it’s best that he’s drawing the line, but something in within you is saying to fuck all of that.

When you finished eating, you got your luggage from your car and went ahead of Arlert to go to the room first. It just happened to be 6 stories high, spacious with a huge king-sized bed, the window overlooking the unfamiliar city.

Placing your bag on the ground, the door behind you opened and it was him.

The quaint pair of glasses sitting gracefully on top of his nose bridge, complexion calm and collected, yet was filled with solitude.

You really couldn’t take having to tighten the lid of your feelings anymore.

It’s over. You know this, but nevertheless—

“Wow the view is nice huh?” He tried initiating small talk, sauntering towards the window. You followed behind, pulling his arm, then pushing him against the cold glass, hands on his wrists. He neither seemed startled nor irritated. Just that same stoic look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Armin… I just- ugh. I don’t remember anything.” You sigh.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

You didn’t have a tight grip on him, but he didn’t retaliate. You continue rambling. “I only remember a little bit of sleeping with you that night, but… but… aghhh! I know how frustrating this is for you, but god this has been killing me for the past week now. I just- I’ve been trying so hard to hide how I really feel about you, but now I just feel like I fucked everything up.”

He chuckles, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. “You’re adorable, you know?”

You exhale, “And also… what if everyone else thinks I’m some ladder climbing whore?”

“I won’t let them do that to you, I promise. You’re the smartest, most reliable woman I know, I’ll make sure that’s how everyone else perceives you.” His flattery is tugging on your heartstrings, a slight smile forming on your complexion.

“So did you actually mean what you said earlier about pretending like it never happened?” You frown.

“Let’s make that null and void.” You felt like you were able to breathe again when he finally kissed you, one arm wrapped around your waist to push you against his body and the other on the back of your head.

You stumble towards the bed backwards, unaware of whatever else is happening besides the pair of lips clashing onto yours, breathing heavily through your nose. He quickly pulls away to toss his glasses to the side while you work on tugging his tie off, then undoing the buttons of his linen top.

Armin expertly popped the buttons out of your top and you shimmy your way out of it, leaving the both of you topless. You tripped on the mattress, back landing on the plush surface, Armin pinning you down with both his arms.

“From now on,” He presses a soft kiss on your neck, “I’ll make sure you remember everything.”

While he nibbles on your earlobe, you tease, “I’ll be keeping my expectations up.” You wiggle your way towards the huge headboard, suddenly holding onto Armin’s biceps and swiveling them to make your way on top of him, legs folded on either side of his thighs.

“You sure you can handle it?” He chuckles, face lit with fervor. You unclamp the button of his trousers, sliding them down, leaving him with only his boxers on. A dark splotch of precum was apparent on his underwear, the fat of his boner melding through his boxers.

You palm his clothed cock, cupping and eliciting sharp gasps from him. “Arlert, I wanna suck you off,” Already crawling with one knee in between his legs, he grabbed onto your wrist and paused you.

“Hold on.” He shuffled himself until he was laying on his back, your expression painted with slight confusion. “If you insist, sit on my face while you suck my dick.” His grin showed pure malice, as if he’s been dreaming about your pussy suffocating him.

You’ve seen what he just described in porn you come across on your twitter timeline, except you don’t have the self-confidence to push your whole weight down on someone’s face.

“Um- are you sure? That sounds uncomfortable…” You ponder, hand now grasped beneath the sheets from anxiety. This whole thing is still so new to you, it’s so nerve wracking knowing that someone else is taking the effort to make you feel good.

Armin reassures, reaching his arm out to turn on the table side lamp next to him. “Does it look like I care about that? Come on, let me give you a good time, hm? If you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

There’s no harm in trying. Armin has been so sweet and careful knowing that you don’t have a lot of experience, assuring that you’re receiving the best of the best.  And it’s not as if he’s not getting perks of his own. He’s still wondering how no one else has taken you up and given you what you deserved.

First off, you’re pretty. Often clad in a tight white button-up, see through enough to the point where he can see the color of your bra strap if he takes the effort to stare. He also knows the days you alternate between skirts and pants. Not on purpose of course, but he sees you everyday and he’s a meticulous person, it’s easy for him to notice patterns.

It’s perverted, he knows, but he can’t help it. That’s why he’s so nervous whenever you’re around that his hands get sweaty and he frequently has to twist his tie to cool down.

Plus, you’re the dopest person he knows. Ambitious, self-serving, never takes shit from anyone. You also didn’t kiss Eren’s ass to get to your position which isn’t necessarily common in the company where kissing up might as well be part of the job.

So it’s nice to see you under that veil, where you’re so frail and whiny all of a sudden because he’s too fucking big for your unstretched cunt. Where he got to take a picture in his brain of every second of that night– how you look like under your clothes, nipples prickled hard from the breeze of the AC while he fucked your brains out.

You stand on the mattress, carefully pulling your slacks down then curling your finger under your bra strap to slip it off one shoulder, then the other. Your breasts bounced out of its confinements and Armin observed as you knelt and swung your legs so that one would be on each side of his head.

Swallowing hard, you stared at his navy boxers, smeared with precum, the outline of his cock prominent under the fabric. Your thighs were trembling, the air was cold and you felt a pair of eyes piercing its gaze towards the wet splotch apparent on your panties.

Armin took the crotch part of your underwear and pulled it to the side, your pussy already puffy, folds glossed with slick. He grasps your waist and gently pulls you lower, closer to his face, and he sticks his tongue out until the tip bumped your clit.

Meanwhile, you’re shuffling to pull his boxers down, just enough for his cock to spring out, the head swollen and leaking with translucent, thick precum. You wrap your palm around the base, just above his balls, suddenly hissing at Armin teasing your clit. “Fuck, Armin… “ You laughed off the sting of his wet tongue, but you were getting a little frustrated.

And Armin can tell. “Baby, you know I can’t reach you if you don’t sit on my face properly right? Just relax, you have nothing to worry about.” He chuckles, practically lying through his teeth because he knows damn well of what he’s capable of.

Hesitantly, you placed more weight on top of his face as you slid your hand up his cock and rolled your tongue out where a ball of spit coated the head. Your back arched into a firm bow, a response of pain when he sank two of his fingers inside you. “It- it hurts.” A low hiss crept past your lips, just right on the head of his cock.

“Does that mean you want to stop?” Armin was being polite, but him drooling on your cunt shows nothing but pure spite.

Squirming, you whisper. “No… I need more. Stop teasing.” Your ass was aching from your position, mouth practically pressed against the length of his dick. He sighs, his breath fanning against the heat of your cunt. Your bossy attitude provoked a laugh out of him, he thought it was cute.

After chuckling, he jests, “Agh, I guess I can’t deny a pretty girl like you.” Those words wrapped your heart in a warm blanket, it felt so sweet and nourishing even if he meant it sexually.

That feeling didn’t last long however, he was back to licking your pussy, tongue making its work by slipping along the slit while his lips sucked your clit. You whimpered, your mouth around his cock sending vibrations straight to his balls.

You had never given head, but nonetheless you use this opportunity to try things you’ve seen in porn. Caving your cheeks in, you take slow steps in taking more of his cock in your mouth, saliva dripping all over his dick.

Armin noticed what you were trying to do and was ready to stop you in case you gag, but he could feel you getting closer to your orgasm as your legs shook around his head and the louder your moans got. So instead, he encourages you by sticking a third finger in your hole and fucked it in and out while groaning under you. Your throat constricted the more you took of him, up until the tip nearly punched the back of your throat.

Grinding on his face, you were practically seeing stars, more so when Armin curled his fingers inside you, tipping you over the edge. A stream of fluid projectiles past his head and onto the plush pillow. A sharp gasp was emitted from your throat when you pulled away, a twine of saliva connecting your lips and his tip, your hand continuing on jerking him off.

“Fuck, Armin, fuck, you make me so horny, hah…” At this point, you were just spitting out what you had in mind, words that you’d never typically say out loud.

But he took those words to heart.

He grins, voice slightly muted as you rock your hips on his face. “Oh yeah? Can you do that f’me again then?” The wet plump of his lips sucked on your tender clit, his fingers only picking up in pace. You tried your best to pump your hand as fast as you could, your tongue sticking out and teasing his leaking fat cock head.

The topic of sex was something you rather avoided. You enjoyed hearing about your friends’ sex lives but you always thought they were just sugarcoating for bragging points. Watching porn didn’t have that much of an effect either, sometimes you get so turned off when the man is too aggressive or when the woman is moaning too loud.

But with Armin? Your first time felt like a reenactment of a steamy smut scene in those romance novels. He holds onto you, reassures you, and makes sure that you don’t feel belittled because you’re lacking in experience. You always thought that the process of losing your virginity would be painful, but this is only your second time and you're already addicted.

Armin was panting, his body shifting underneath you. “Oh god, oh god, fuck—! Oh—“ He yelps, broken strings of cum spewing out and onto your lips, which you licked off. His cock twitched while your hand faltered in speed.  

You weren’t far from cumming yourself, Armin’s fingers were slipping in with ease, the combination of that and his tongue ejecting a mess out of you, a porn-worthy moan bouncing off the walls of the room. Your slick ran on your thighs, Armin still kitten licking your clit, evoking a weak giggle from you. “That’s it… Just like that…” He praises.

Rolling off him and onto the mattress you laid down in disbelief as you were coming down from your high. Armin sat up and plopped beside you, your heads on the foot of the bed. Strands of his blonde hair were stuck on his forehead, chin gleamed with arousal against the city lights from the window view. “Are you tired?” He asks, staring at the blank ceiling.

You turn your body sideways, facing him. “Not really. Are you?” He rolls to the side and positions you so he could hover above you. Hunching down, he goes in for a sweet kiss, the bubbling feeling in your stomach flaring up.

While remaining embraced, arms hooked around his neck to keep his face close, he pulled off, his thumb drawing circles on your cheekbone.

“I want it… I want you.” You mumble, desperation dragging in each syllable of your words. Despite your memory not cooperating, your body was yearning for more.

“Are you sure? I don’t have a condom with me.”

“Can’t you just… pull out?” You raise the question, eyebrows raising in curiosity of his answer.

“Is that really what you want though?” Armin is aware that asking too many questions can turn you away from wanting to continue on any more, but he can’t go on without the assurance that he isn’t forcing you to do something you don’t really want to do.

You nod timidly.

Armin lightens up the mood, chuckling, “Only the second time and you’re already asking for it raw? You’re so ambitious.”

“Only with you.” You laugh along with him, face flushed with heat.

Only with him, you can feel this comfortable with being naked and saying whatever was on your mind. Romance-wise, your relationship with him is still fresh, but the feelings already had a seed in your heart.

“I always liked you, you know.” Armin doesn’t know what the fuck he’s saying and why now, but for some reason he felt that this was the best time to do so.

“Yeah? How so?” You tease, arms still locked around his neck.

“I don’t know, it just happened. Maybe it’s because you’re so cool and you kinda intimidated me.” He confesses, his arms still caging you in between.

“What do you think of me now?” The room was eerily quiet, as if you two were the only ones living on the planet and nothing else mattered.

He ponders, “Still cool… not as intimidating… beautiful…” looking you in the eye, you snuck him in for a heated kiss before he could comprehend what was happening, tongue slipping in between his lips and clashing with his tongue.

Whimpering against your mouth, he was jerking himself off for lubrication, nudging his cock in between your folds quickly before parting from you shortly to pull your panties off completely, tossing it on the floor. He’s sliding in slowly, but it’s difficult when your cunt is sucking him in so good.

It was different this time; you’re taking a mental note of each second of this moment, the stretching burn as his cock dragged along your tight walls, his lips smashed against yours, his choppy breathing in between kisses…

As soon as he was fully inside of you, he placed your ankles against his shoulders and bent down, staring at your pleasured face. Mouth agape and eyes blank, he caressed your cheek with his finger while snapping his hips on yours. Your nails dug on his back, crescent shaped marks engraved on his skin.

“Armin… so deep…” You’re mewling, his cock sinking into your hole, leaving your legs numb as he folded you in half. He only hackled a chuckle; the more you moaned, the more he was encouraged to thrust faster and deeper.

The smack! of your wet cunt against Armin’s balls and the heavy breathing were the only noises in the muted room. Armin was utterly obsessed — obsessed with everything about you. Even the way your teeth ram into your bottom lip because his cock is fucking into you so deliciously is something he wants to replay in his mind over and over.

“You’re so pretty darling, squeezing onto me so well, hah-“ He wasn’t going to lie, he hadn’t planned on doing this tonight; otherwise, maybe he would’ve been more prepared. Armin really doesn’t mind staying in between your legs all night, but god is he fucking addicted on doing you raw. Your throat strained, whines becoming fuller while you spat out sweet nothings about how he’s making you feel so good.

Armin leaned back, observing your boobs bouncing in sync with his thrusts, your hands going up to knead and massage them. He held onto your legs, eyes traveling to your glistening cunt engulfing his dick, reveling in the feeling of his cock rutting into your most sensitive spot.

Reaching forward to squeeze your nipples in between his fingers to rouse you up, you whimpered quietly, “ ‘m so close…” Your eyes were shut, breathing jagged with each rock of his hips.

“God— yes, do it for me, schatzi.” His mother tongue slipped out the more his mind was hazed and could barely keep a lucid thought that wasn’t filthy. Your eyes squeezed shut, body tense when you came, legs twitching and lips muttering his name.

Armin was on the verge of cumming as well, letting go of your legs to pull out, pumping into his fist before forgetting to do so. He came on your tits, long strings of white, translucent cum on your lithe skin as he groaned under his breath. Slumber was running all over your veins, the temptation of sleep taunting you.

He hops off the bed and sits next to your head. “Baby, we should clean up. We have a long day tomorrow.” He pokes your cheek.

You were sore as you followed him to the ivory bathroom, and into the unnecessarily huge glass paned shower. Armin twisted the knob for warm water and he did the honors of washing your body, hands travelling all over you, cupping your breasts although it didn’t feel inherently sexual. He trailed kisses all over the back of your neck and your back as the water ran down your bodies.

Twisting your head, you laced your fingers with his own and you locked your lips against his before whispering, “I like you too.”

Giggles and kisses were shared prior to going back to bed, both of you were too infatuated to figure out that this is way out of your routines and character, considering that this is an HR violation and god forbid if other people find out.

Nevertheless…

There’s no turning back.

schatzi is an endearment term in german according to various sources. literally means treasure, but can be used as ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Too Sweet 💜 Chapter 2 - To go to bed before the daylight

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x (f)reader

SUMMARY: Coming from unabashed wealth has its perks — like never having to lift a finger in your life. When that suddenly changes, you end up at a crossroads: how far will you go to have everything you want?

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

GENRE: Crossroad Demon AU (Sloth), smut, angst

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, mentions of addiction and withdrawal, trespassing, unprotected public sex, biting, pain mixing w/ pleasure, choking and breath play

A.N. What would you do to see your demon again?

Masterpost | Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter : Next Chapter >

A frustrated screech burst out of your mouth as you gripped your hair by the roots and twirled around. Despite your shut eyes, the dizziness tried to settle, and you welcomed it. Your voice gave out and you tripped on the glass coffee table nearby, falling with such a ruckus anyone would have wondered if you were okay. No one came, however.

You rolled belly up with a groan, raising your hands above your face to confirm that indeed, glass shards were piercing your palms and forearms. Carnation red drops dribbled down in lively pulses and you gritted your teeth before hiding behind a grimace.

Why was nothing working?

The desperation couldn’t take hold of your chest because your fury was far more rampant. You rolled to the side, ignoring the crunching beneath you as you got up. Your glare was acidic as you looked around you, confirming for the thousandth time that nothing happened. No one — there was no one in your living room. Not on the luxurious crimson velvet couches, on a bar stool by the kitchen island, or on the two steps leading to the sliding doors of your bedroom.

Your anger flooded you so absolutely that you couldn’t breathe — it exploded in the form of a kick that threw the nearby flaming bowl over, hitting the lit candles and making the air even more pungent with a spicy scent. You ignored the white Yarrow petals mixed with the other bones and trinkets rolling on the floor half still aflame and groaned as you paced.

It wasn’t working, nothing was working.

You had done everything you could, absolutely everything. Your fingers trembled as you fought the hopelessness trying to settle — it was impossible. Something had to work! It had to, it just had to!

You started hitting your forehead with your palms, trying to think of something. Was there something he said? Something he did? He had to have left you with a clue!

“Miss?”

You shrieked again in pure frustration before you turned around, glaring at the maid who had dared to enter your apartment. Her frightened expression should have shaken you, but nothing could reach you. You could only feel the void, the emptiness, the sucking pressure depressing your breathing, your motivation, your energy. So much so that you didn’t even flinch when she rushed to grab a pillow and started hitting the nearing tapestry with it. Oh right, you noticed, absentmindedly. It did smell like burning and the fire alarm was blaring. What a drag.

You heaved a deep breath and gave the situation your back, choosing to near your computer on the desk and read the passages on the screen again and again. Was there something you missed? Didn’t you do everything exactly right?

“Miss?”

“What?” You growled back, annoyed at her small wary voice.

The maid, possibly around your age with big round eyes bringing life to her fully black attire, raised her hands carefully, “You’re hurt.”

You scoffed and turned to the screen again. You heard the commotion behind you as people came into the room to check if there was a fire, and you ignored them. You kept reading, scrolling, trying to understand. The maid’s worried eyes were lost on you as you dragged the chair behind you to sit, blood dripping down to the floor like the pendulum of a metronome marking the time. A singed odor slowly replaced the spicy smell, and you twisted your nose in annoyance. The turmoil behind you almost drew a remark out of you but then you faltered.

The name. You were missing the name, of course. 

“Fuck!”

Your fists hit the table with such force the laptop was airborne for a split second. You dragged the chair behind you and walked away, cursing yourself incessantly as you covered your face with trembling fingers. Just exactly how stupid could you possibly be—?

“Miss?”

“What?” Your tone was caustic now, your patience nonexistent.

“We should clean your wounds.”

You scoffed and almost laughed in disbelief before looking around the place. Your wide living room looked fairly smaller with the four staff members cleaning everything seamlessly: there were no traces of fire, the tapestry had been switched, the bowl was clean with no flowers, cow milk, blood, or anything else, and even the glass shards of the glass coffee table were gone already. You wondered how long it would take for a replacement to be brought in when a man walked in carrying one that could have been the exact same model, you wouldn’t have remembered or cared.

Meanwhile, your forearms and knees had blood dripping down your skin grimly.

“Miss?”

“Out,” you voiced, breath shaking at the tension down your spine. Everyone around you had worry in their eyes, or worse, sympathy, and your anger snapped tenfold, “Out! Now!”

The maid opened her mouth but you raised your forearms and whisked the shards out of your skin before she could say anything. She looked utterly shocked as the pieces fell to the floor, yet your gaze was absolutely indifferent. You glanced at one of the men who had worked for you for the last six months; an eyebrow raise was enough for him to nod.

In a second, everyone knew to scram and you heaved a deep breath, enjoying the silence again. They should know better than to interfere when you were cooped up there trying to get things done.

You reached the minibar in the corner of the suite and poured yourself a glass of your favorite whiskey. They couldn’t understand; why would they? To them, you were just a rich, eccentric, possibly unhinged woman doing crazy rituals in one of your drug-induced highs, but what would they know?

You were not crazy. The possibility had crossed your mind, but in truth, their very presence proved that you were, in fact, very sane! Or else, how could it be that you owned that building? That you were loaded? That they worked for you, catering to your every need as if you were royalty?

It was excruciating, though. If in the beginning, you thought this would give you the freedom you were looking for, now six months later you realized that it was not like that at all. You could set the building on fire and absolutely nothing would happen to you. There were no consequences, not even getting burned because the staff would bend backward to keep you safe. And it was all because of the deal. As if you weren’t aimless enough before — it turned out that freedom made you even more helpless. And now that your parents weren’t there to offer any semblance of resistance or limits, you had inadvertently hit new lows.

But it wasn’t your fault, you mused as you stepped out onto the balcony with your neat whiskey in hand. You had everything you could ever wish for at the tip of your fingers and yet the loneliness and pain were never more vivid. With no one to care and no purpose, you spiraled harder than ever before.

And the worst part was that you couldn’t do it right. No matter how much alcohol burned your throat, or how many pills you popped, the euphoria never reached that same peak. Nothing ever felt the same as that one night six months ago, and you suspected nothing ever would. Because what you were searching for could not be chemically induced.

It was his touch. You had pondered long and hard and arrived at that conclusion every time. Anyone could kiss you or fuck you, but nothing matched the level of intimacy of that night. This made you chuckle — you didn’t even know his name, nor did he know yours. At the time, you didn’t even know what he was but none of that mattered. It wasn’t about a kiss or a couple of orgasms, or being pounded so harshly you could thankfully feel it for days. No, it was about the care in his eyes right after leaving you in a place of bliss. You couldn’t let it go, but you craved it. You searched for it day and night, fruitlessly scraping the surface while a similar summit of ecstasy and ease stayed out of reach.

And as you did, your body paid the price. You felt it clearly in your lack of breath, saw it in your sunken eyes and dry hair, in your lack of appetite, and will.

It was all his fault, you reasserted yourself one more time, taking a sip with your gaze set on the city night. It was your fault too for wishing for him to make you feel good, but it was his fault for not making it last. It wasn’t permanent, you weren’t fixed. If anything, you were even more miserable, bound to remember blissfulness and never feel it again.

But you knew you remembered it right. Every little detail came to mind, from the wickedness of his smile to the bruises over your skin. If it wasn’t enough that you remembered him so deeply that no one else had been able to match it, your very bones felt charred at times — a reminder that you were branded, that you didn’t belong to yourself anymore. Not entirely.

The problem was that it would take ten years to see him again. Ten fucking years; you couldn’t wait that long.

You drank a bit more, unsure if the trembling of your fingers was due to the cold night or the withdrawal. You licked your lips and allowed yourself to be proud for once. You had been clean for a week, and that was something after six months of being fucked up.

That was when the pointlessness of your actions dawned on you, or rather the insanity of repeating the same ones hoping for a different outcome. You realized then that the only way to fix things would be to speak to him again. Only the obsession to summon him again kept you clean and mostly sober — if you were high, you wouldn’t be able to do it. Heck, to even try — you might forget logic altogether and return to the vicious cycle. The drugs always made you dense, even when the haze receded, and it annoyed you that it was starting to linger as the withdrawal settled. How else did you not realize that you didn’t have his name? Hence, why every attempt failed? Even if those spells online were bullshit, one was bound to work! Or were you not at the rooftop suite of a luxurious building you owned downtown?

You heaved a deep breath and settled your chin on your arms over the cold metal railing. How could you turn this around? You didn’t have his name and without asking him, you’d never get it!

You tilted the glass in front of your face, the amber liquid transparent enough to allow the city lights through.

“I thought you… you only showed up at midnight.”

He chuckled genuinely, “Should I have let you wait until then?”

Your guts turned — no. Fuck no. You couldn’t wait any longer.

You turned, storming across the suite as you finished your drink and placed the glass on the console table next to your handbag. You emptied its contents on the glass top and immediately picked up your wallet, getting your ID and waving it in front of you victoriously.

That was all you needed to grab your phone and head out.

You couldn't stop tapping your foot incessantly on the black car mat. The city lights became rarer as you exited the center and neared your destination, yet there was no respite. Your nerves were stretched thin with your usual lack of patience, turbulent anxiety, and sudden mounting expectations. You knew it was illogical, but you were a second away from yelling at the driver to go faster — it was the middle of nowhere at night, and there was no one on the road. You couldn’t wait anymore.

You huffed in annoyance when the car finally stopped along the walls of your parent’s estate. You had to tell your driver where to go until you told him to stop, seeing no cameras, fences, or obstacles.

He didn't flinch when you asked him to heave you up and over the wall, keeping the car door open to offer you a semblance of support. However, you paused when you raised a leg only to notice you still had glass shards on your knees. You huffed and brushed the little pieces off before taking his hand to jump and land on the other side finally.

A groan escaped you when you hit your knees on the floor with a thud. You grimaced with the pain shooting up your wrists from hampering your fall; since when were you so weak?

Yet, instead of taking the time to consider your overall state or the fact that you were trespassing on your parent’s property, you got up. You looked around, thankful that your eyes were accustomed to the moonbeams crossing the darkness to reveal the fields to your right, the orchards to the left, and in the distance, at the top of a hill, the mansion you had grown up in. 

None of that mattered now. You had a long way to walk and all you did was check your dress pockets for your phone and ID before you started. You didn’t know where you were going — you didn’t know where you had seen him. You did remember, however, that there were no trees and that the house should have been behind you, so the fields were the obvious choice.

It didn’t take long for familiar dreadful sensations to take over you: the uneasy strain of your legs as you walked, the skittish beating heart inside your chest, the sweat stinging your eyes as your trembling fingers brushed the wet strands of hair off your brow. It was an unpleasant reminder of your lack of health, but you didn’t mind. You kept pushing forward, taking every inch of discomfort with your head held high — you had felt it before, unknowingly on your way to him. Maybe this was a requirement to reach him, and so you’d gladly take it. You’d walk all night if you had to.

The certainty you had from your memories and experiences kept you going to the point where you only saw fields again, a dirt road, and no house, wall, or trees to take reference in. It pushed you forward and validated you despite your thirst, shakiness, and tiredness. You were on the right path, even if you stumbled and stopped breathing.

There was a certain irony when you tripped on something that made you fall to your knees. You took the moment to breathe and pulled your hair out of your face, staring at the ground that had seen you grow. You hummed while staring at the bland brown, the lack of moisture, the bareness of that place. How did anything grow there?

Still, you buried your ID as you hummed the chant with an uncharacteristic solemnity. You were nowhere near where you wanted to be, but your desire hadn’t subsided any less.

“You know you already sold your soul, right?”

You almost jolted in fright, staring up with wide eyes. The object of your obsession was towering over you, a single point of fire lit near his mouth as he pulled a seemingly endless drag of smoke out of his cigarette. His paleness contrasted with his dark hair only to shimmer under the moonlight, yet something caught your eye before you could admire the vision or wonder if you were hallucinating. He was toying with a plastic card in his hand, and as he turned it again to the other side, your picture passed in a blurred flash.

You gasped and looked down beneath your hands where you had just buried that card. Would it still be there? If you searched for it, would you find it? Would it break your fantasy or confirm your reality?

Your heart was racing when you faced back up, breathlessness overtaking you.

You stumbled to get back on your feet but didn't give up. Your eyes were fixed in those pools of black as you did, dizziness threatening to pull you under but nothing could take that chance away from you.

He observed you passively, blowing smoke directly onto your face as if you were an annoying fly. Your eyes watered but all annoyance was dead and gone. Instead, your lips trembled as you took more of him, your lungs sucking in a new meaning to the word fume.

Yet with a new drawn breath, your conviction resurged — it was all his fault.

Your hand smacked his chest and your blood burst with shimmers of excitement. He was solid underneath your palm — he was real.

You couldn't resist so you didn't hesitate — you smacked him again and again, a thrill building from the bottom of your gut stronger than any hit ever before. He was real and there and you weren't crazy. It was all his fault, and—

You froze. Your eyes had wandered up as a sly smile settled on your lips, but upon facing him, there was no moving anymore. His gaze wasn't necessarily cold but rather cynical. He didn't say a word; he wrapped his lips around the cigarette butt and made the cherry glow.

You forced yourself to breathe; you wouldn’t give up that easily. “Fix it.”

“What?” His tone was monotonous before he blew smoke on your face again.

You didn't even blink, “Our deal.” He put the cigarette butt in his mouth again and you fought the breathlessness. He was much more intense, eerie, and otherworldly than you remembered. “I told you to make me feel good.”

You saw the smoke enter his mouth and disappear as he casually held it in while he eyed you. “Would you say you felt bad.”

It wasn’t a question but you were reactive, “You know very well what I mean.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. For a moment you doubted he was breathing, and then finally you questioned your sanity. Yet your fingers twitched over his chest and you blinked, assured. He was definitely there.

“So fix it,” you pleaded, unable to hide exactly how you felt. The anger was just a mask that crumbled all too easily. Your futile race to achieve exhilaration had left you sickly and frail. He could see it in your eyes, surely — you had traded your soul and wouldn’t last ten years. Maybe not even the month. “Take it away,” you asked, eyes watering along with your quieting voice. “All of it.”

You swallowed your feebleness and raised your eyes in time to see him pursing his lips before blowing the smoke back into your face. In any other instance, it could have felt demeaning or degrading, but quickly your heart became infatuated with the scent. There was comfort in it, in the familiarity of something that had been a part of you for so long finally coming to take you.

You saw in his eyes how much he knew, even as he tsked and threw the cigarette butt on the floor. Your mouth said fix it, but your flimsy heart screamed exhaustion. Your mouth asked for your addictions and ailment to be taken away when your spirit meant something else.

He exhaled exasperatedly, “For a price.”

“Do it.”

His jaw twitched, “For three years. Got it?” He asked before you could mindlessly confirm. “Instead of ten, you’ll have six years and a half left in total.”

You huffed; as if the price would make you say no. Your fingers curled to grab his black shirt and pull yourself near since he wouldn’t budge. His piercing eyes were inscrutable but you didn’t give up. Whatever he had in store for you, you wanted it.

You got on your tiptoes and shook all over while trying to reach him, straining yourself in one final attempt. For a split second, you thought you would fail as you had for the last six months. Your arms lost strength, your toes couldn’t hold your weight and you closed your eyes with the dizziness making your world spin.

Yet two firm hands grabbed your arms and before you could take a breath to speak, a mouth pressed to yours. It retained the spice you remembered, now mixed with the smoke and ash of tobacco, and you wanted more. Your heart was beating for that taste, for the warm tongue slipping through your lips, bringing subtle tingles to your lower belly.

You grabbed his hair at the back of his neck and pulled him closer, diving into that sweet descent. You didn’t remember him needing to lick your tongue to make a deal with you, but you did recall the searing sensations on your bones. This time the incisions felt small and limited, but deep all the same, and you grabbed his hair firmer. A single breath was enough to feel stronger, the vigor returning to your body and tautening you instantly. The air you breathed was cold, the night humid as the faint perfume of the green fields mixed with his cigarette scent. Your heart thumped strongly, rushing blood and adrenaline in a mix that jolted you alive, pressing you to him with newfound energy.

Until he parted your mouths and your vitality flickered. A soft line showed between your eyebrows as you tried not to give it too much thought — you didn’t want it to end.

“What if I need you again?” You whispered, eyes set on the temptation in the form of his lips.

“I’m not a babysitter,” he rasped. Despite the jaded tone in his voice, his eyes were caught in the same trap.

“But you want my soul, right?”

You enticed him with the only thing you knew could work, though you didn’t let go of your embrace around his shoulders. And neither did he, you noticed. You fought the shiver under his firm hands still grabbing you in place.

Your lips twitched, thrilled with the attention, and you leaned in to nuzzle him, “What’s your name?”

“You know better than to ask questions.”

His tone was far colder; a wall instantly rose between you, and you nodded. You had tried and failed but took what little victory you could have. At least now you were fixed.

He let you go and as soon as your feet touched the ground, you frowned. If the addiction was a bottomless pit, it still was nothing compared to the abyss sucking you in. If everyone had a universe inside them, then yours never got balanced with equal parts mass and void. The black hole at your center was catastrophically disproportionate and immediately you could feel it sucking you in.

Your eyes teared up; it seemed like that was not something a wish could fix. “Make me feel good,” you asked breathlessly.

“It won’t fix it.”

His eyes showed a glint as if he knew what was going on inside your head, and you chuckled and rubbed your eyes. What hurt the most was that not even he could fix you. Once again, it was all pointless. 

“It did last time. For a bit,” you added. Facing up again, you were almost touched. You didn’t expect empathy, and you doubted that was what you saw glimmering in the dark of his eyes, but whatever it was, it pushed you to insist. “Please.”

Your hands moved to hold his head in place as you got on your tiptoes again and pressed your mouth to his. You knew he could have pushed you away easily; rather you imagined he could have done far worse. But as soon as your lips touched, you were even more confident that you understood things exactly as they were: he couldn’t fix you, but he could. 

There was a breathless moment in which you grazed your lips on his and felt the hairs at your nape rise. It was all or nothing — you were jumping off a cliff with no parachute, hoping for something to cushion your fall. The most likely was for you to crash and get crushed, and yet the pressure you felt was nothing like that.

He caught you so quickly that you almost gasped. In a second, you were pressed to his chest, crushed between his arms with a hand holding the back of your head in place as your mouths fused. You couldn’t breathe anything other than him and you moaned — the euphoria rivaled a hit as strong as the purest smack. Yet contrarily to a rushed effect that promised temporary bliss, he was entirely different. Time was ticking but it slowed as his tongue invaded your mouth, carrying a promise of something more. Just shy of ephemeral pleasure, but grazing on a spike of ecstasy. And just like you had thought, you understood the situation very well.

You grabbed him back, instantly eager to get the maximum possible hit. Your strong heart was pumping heat through your veins, feeding into your hunger as if you hadn’t known addiction for most of your life. You chuckled despite your meshed mouths, suddenly aware of your comical state — once an addict, always an addict, right?

You laughed when he trailed his lips down your jaw to reach your neck and sink his teeth. Instantly, you groaned and realized something was ticking him off. Yet you couldn’t give it much thought; the sting on your neck was spreading like wildfire through you and your reaction was to jump into him.

He was ready to catch you, lacing your legs around him as he squeezed your ass until you cried out. The way he pressed you to grind on him drove you crazy, pushing you to get even more lost. Your hazed mind wondered how it was that such simple touches could fry your system so badly, but then he pulled you away by the ass.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, completely overlooking what was truly happening until he pressed you to him again, only this time to split you open. You mewled helplessly, slumping down on him with the pressure of the invasion pushing all the right nerves inside your thight core. It was just like you had asked him and just like you remembered — the right balance to your permanent deficit state.

Your fingers curled, gripping for something and you finally noticed there was only him, and you. You pulled away to face him and saw it in the steel eyes and rough hands raising your hips to fall on him again, stealing a moan. There were no barriers, no clothes, only the cold humid night air in between you as he guided you to jump on his lap as he fucked you.

The air buzzed around you, static making your hair bristle with every electricity jolt. Only it wasn’t energy, but pure pleasure rushing your nerve ends with every slap. The rapture circled you, closing in with every sway as you let him steer you as high and low as needed. Your clit ground on him with every pull, only for his cock to kiss your cervix and force shrieks out of you. And you let him, moaning louder every time, staring at the endless staircase brazenly — no matter how deep he hit or how hard he fucked, that was still the most thrilling high you had ever experienced.

You screamed when his teeth sank into the crook of your neck and it turned into a whimper with how much that restricted your movements. You wanted to grind on his cock, to take full advantage of his hands maneuvering you as if you were weightless; a ragdoll made to take him in full. So you grabbed his hair, supporting him with unintelligible coos as you tried rolling your hips.

He growled into your skin and you shuddered, smirking at the prospect of having him feral right then and there. But then he split from you to face you, and you gaped.

Even as he guided you up and down, electrifying you with pleasure, your mouth still dropped open at the sight. When did he get so deep he drew blood? And why were you clenching around him, so close to release at the thought of him consuming you?

“I’m going to say this once, kitten,” he rasped, eyes fixed on yours. “You have to do better.”

You bit your lip and worked harder, bucking your hips to help with how deep he pierced you, even if it drew cries out of you.

He gritted his teeth with a quiet growl, licking your blood from his lips and sinking his nails into your asscheeks to help you. Your debauched movements were perturbing him just as much as you and you smirked, tongue peeking between your lips as you eyed his bloody mouth. A groan scratched from deep within his chest as if he was straining himself just by looking at you and you melted. You grabbed his hair by the nape, meaning to lean forward and assure him you were completely submerged in all of it when you were stopped.

His hand circled your throat, “Listen.”

You batted your eyelashes at him, though your eyes were about to roll back. 

“You have to figure yourself out.”

Why did he sound so angry when he was fucking you so sweetly? “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No,” you cried, barely able to open your eyes.

“You have to.”

You were winded with every moan, not because of any physical strain — there was none —, but because the lava you had for blood had forsaken every atom of oxygen for sheer delight. Maybe because of it, something sparked deep in your haze, “Help me.”

His hand tightened around your throat, “I’m not a babysitter.”

You laughed but the sound got muffled when he squeezed more. Despite this, you didn’t stop smiling. You knew and he knew — that he wasn’t a babysitter, but that he was fucking sense into you right now.

His eyes squinted, sweat dripping down the side of his face and you reached weakly to touch it. You could feel the tension releasing your shoulders and relaxing your legs as you lacked oxygen. He looked angry with a hint of sadness, and you willed it away. He was giving you the fix you sought, and you wanted him to feel good too.

His hand squeezed even tighter and your hand raised to grab his wrist with no semblance of a protest. That was when you saw it — a silver chain bracelet on your wrist glistening under the moonlight. A sparkle behind it drew your attention and you noticed your other wrist had one too — claspless and tight.

You laughed at the implication, even as your sight became littered with black spots. Your heart was so warm and content at that moment that you needed a push to retake the other heavenly sensations, and he gave it to you. He supported your lower back to drag you slower over his length, in and out, fitting powerfully together, and then he let go of his grip around your neck.

Oxygen permeated your brain faster than a spark following a trace of gunpowder to light up a dynamite and you exploded. Your nails pierced his skin as you sank into him, using him as an anchor to drag your clit however pleased you best. Your bliss was selfish but elevated when you felt him pressing you down, pulsing so deep inside you you could swear it could choke you.

Your mouth had fallen open, and as you looked at him from behind your eyelashes, pleasure still crisp at your fingertips, he muttered, “Let’s try this again.”

He let you go and your legs had become too loose. You fell with a gasp, but your back hit a cushioned surface. You sat up and in a second, you were assured and chuckled. You were back in the car that brought you there, lying in the backseat as if you had just fallen asleep. Your clothes were back on, your heart was beating strongly in exhilaration, and maybe it could have all been a dream if not for the silver bracelets on your wrists.

You laughed quietly to yourself and fell back with a wrist over your eyes. Maybe you could still get to your pillow before daylight.

[igotanidea]

Walls: Dick Grason x f!reader

Summary: Dick is not really an open one himself, but what if his girlfriend takes being closed up to the extreme? Will he break that emotional wall?

„Hey”

„Hi” I muttered that single word without looking up from my computer screen, buried with work, doing my best to keep myself busy.

“What are you working on?” he took a step closer trying to sneak a peek at the document I was currently editing.

“Just some reports. You know my boss, he loves all the spreadsheets and  summaries.”

“Yeah. I know.” perching down on my desk he scratched his neck in poorly hidden frustration

For a second there was complete silence between us.

“So….”

“No. Please don’t.”

“I didn’t even…..”

“But I know exactly what you are going to say. And I ask you to not do this.”

“How can I not?” he scoffed “you have been acting so strange lately. I’m worried about you!”

“Why?” I tilted my head, eyeing him carefully, trying to keep my cool. Don’t let it show, just don’t…..

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m completely serious. There’s nothing to worry about, really. Just because I’ve been busy doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.” I shrugged casually “but, if there’s anything you are struggling with…..”

“You!”

“What?”

“I’m struggling with you!”

“Oh, so I am the problem now?” I raised an eyebrow and he sighed in exasperation.

“Why are you constantly turning everything on its head? Talking about anything with you has been a torture lately. “ I opened my mouth but he cut me off before I could say a word “Anything not-work related.”

“Well then maybe you should stop trying.” I hissed turning the gaze away. As much as I wanted to pretend those words did nothing to me they did hurt.

“Y/N.”

“Maybe you should just leave me be, hm?”

“You are my girlfriend for fuck’s sake. I love you. I care about you, so why can’t you just open up?” his voice broke a little “Don’t you trust me? Do I make you feel unloved?”

I stayed silent for too long to not take it for an answer.

“Oh, fuck, I do.” His eyes went wide in mix of fear, hurt and sudden realisation.

“Look” I sighed deeply and looked at him “it’s not about you, ok? It’s me. There’s something broken inside me and maybe I am no good for anyone, all right? Maybe you should just move on and forget that we ever were together. You don’t deserve the chaos and emptiness I bring.”

“You are not serious.”

“Please.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want us to break up? Fuck!”

“I’m sorry. Can you just leave me alone, at least for a while?”

“I am not giving up on you. You are not getting rid of me so easily.” He stormed out of the room and I knew well enough he was going to training room to get some steam off.

“I know...... Oh, I know.... “ I muttered to myself getting back to work with all my dark thoughts creeping in my mind.

***

“What happened there Y/N?” talk about the perks of living with a couple of people in one house. Pretty much nothing can go unnoticed. The second I left my room I got attacked with that hated question. At first I wanted to lash out at the person who dared to do so, but quickly realized it was Gar. My best, best, best friend. The most caring person on this planet and the last one who would want to push any of my boundaries, so how could I? So instead of getting my frustrations out I just flopped on the sofa next to him shaking my head not able to say a word.

“Hey, talk to me.” Gar turned towards me and grabbed my hand.

“I can’t.” I whispered inaudibly.

“Why not Y/N/N?”

I shook my head even harder and to my terror a few tears that I was holding for too long flew down. Gar knew me well enough to pretend like they weren’t there.

“You know you’re like my big sister, don’t you? And as a younger and more rebellious brother I take it upon myself to cheer you up.” He stated.

“Rebellious?” I let out a laugh and a sob at the same time and it made me hiccup “who are you comparing yourself to? Tim?”

“Maybe. Not much of a benchmark, though.” He laughed and I couldn’t help but lift the corners of my mouth just the tiniest bit. “Oh, there is that signature smile. So much better.”

“I don’t know if it’s better.” I muttered “but I like your sense of humor.”

“Oh, I know” he grinned “so..... you had a fight with Dick?”

“GAR!”

“What?! Like I said, younger brother!”

“You said rebellious, not nosy!”

“Well, let’s call it protectiveness. You know I wouldn’t hesitate to kick his ass if he ever hurt you.”

“I would love to see you two fight each other” I snorted “that would be a view….”

“Will it make you happier?” he suddenly became more aware of my every word “if so…..”

“No, no! Stand down, Gar. You have enhanced your skills for sure, but not that much to go against Nightwing. Besides, I feel like I hurt him more by pushing away.”

“Seems like you gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

“Perhaps, but he’s not really the patient one and may break every second now. He…. cares in his own, very special way.”

“Go talk to him. You know it’s the right thing to do. “

“Right”

“And remember you can still beat him with your superhero skills.”

“GAR!”

*** As suspected Dick was working out. Completely focused on his moves and perfect technique, brows furrowed, forehead sweated. I hate objectification, but the way his muscles were flexing always got me hipnotised and this time it was no different. He wasn’t Dick Grayson at the moment. He was Nightwing with all the fury and anger of a bird of prey. Silent, deadly, predatory, ready to strike. He might have been detached from reality but still heard me coming inside as he turned abruptly, prepared for an attack and without thinking grabbed my wrist in an iron-clad hold.   “Au.” I mocked since even despite his strength it did not hurt this much. I was pretty resilient to physical pain. Titans' school teach you that.

“Sorry.” he muttered and let go taking a step back to look me up and down. This was my turn to speak.

“No. I am sorry Dick. You were right. I am not okay.”

“But you don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s not really what I’ve been taught. “

“You and me both.”

“Right. I just…. I don’t know where to start.” I mumbled looking at the floor.

“Let me help you.” he took a step closer and gently grabbed my chin forcing me to look at him. When my eyes met his I had to hold back the lump that started to form in my throat. He was…. vulnerable. Because of me. Hurt. Desperate. But there was something more to this loving gaze he was giving me and I could not quite decipher what. It became clear a second later when his eyes glinted and he wrenched my arm taking me by surprise.

“What the fuck Dick!?” I yelled and acting out of instinct attacked him back “that’s the help!?”

"It is. You'll see."

He came right at me forcing me to twist, turn, flip and slide to avoid getting beaten up to pulp. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me for real, but still all the years of training just kicked in. I was blocking his sticks and throws, jumping when he tried to trip me up and ducking when he attacked from above. Fuck! It was hard going against him and if I was panting and struggling with controlling my heartbeat Gar didn’t stand a chance against Dick if they ever were to fight for real.

A heartbeat of hesitation got me losing and I found myself in a tight embrace of my boyfriend who was now holding me against his chest.

“Talk.” He ordered and the words just started flowing. Apparenly this was the help, his plan from the begging - letting the adrenaline work for our benefit.

“I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you love me. I am probably the most emotionally estranged person on the Earth. You saw that, you experienced that. I push people away when I need them the most. “

“And yet, when they, when we, when I need you are always there.”

“Because that’s what I do. “

“Why?” he held me closer and I felt his heart beating as fast as mine if not faster. “It’s ok. You’re safe with me, just tell me.” His hands started caressing my back in a soothing manner making me calm down and relax into his touch.

“Because that’s how I show I care. I help. I support. I am here.” I closed my eyes feeling all the mental pain coming out in waves.

“But you don’t let others do the same for you.”

“I hate being vulnerable. I hate being weak. I hate showing it.”

“Babe, you are anything but weak. Believe me.” He looked me straight into the eyes but I winced and avoided his gaze. He let me, knowing this was the only way to keep me talking. “What else?” he insisted as I his my face in his chest muttering incoherently against his skin. “I didn’t quite get that.” he laughed and I pulled away.

“I… I was hurt too many times, you know. Every time I let any insecurity out, later on it was used against me. I still remember how painful it was. Much worse than any phisical injury. It just won’t go away and makes me keep my walls up so high…… I’m sorry, Dickie. You just don’t deserve it. Neither you nor the team. I am a terrible person.....“

“Hey, no, stop it, stop spinning." he cupped my cheek in the most gentle way "You don’t have to put the weight of the world on your shoulder, YN.”

“The pot calling the kettle, you hypocrite!” I smirked

“You are insufferable, Y/N.” He kissed my forehead and I frowned. His action and his words didn’t quite match.

“Dick….?” I wriggled in his embrace, a bit confused.

“I love you so fucking much. “ he held me closer “And am I Nightwing, remember? I can climb any wall, no matter how high.”

“Even if it grows?”

“I’m not going to let it happen.”

“How?“

“Oh I’ll find a way. Look I know it’s hard to trust, ok? Been there, done that. But it’s not healthy, going into a shell. I mean look at Bruce” he scoffed “And you know I care about you. You do, right? Look at me.”

“I do.” I nodded

“Good. So are you willing to work with me? I’m not asking you to become an open book at once but just…. don’t hide, ok? Show how you feel at least from time to time. It’s. All. Right. No one is going to judge you. And no one, really sweetheart, no one, will consider you weak if that’s what you are worried about.”

“But Kori….”

“Oh, god, will you stop it?” he brought his face closer to mine, his lips inches away.

“And what if I don’t bird boy?” I teased.

“Well, I will have to make you….” And without any hesitation he closed the gaps between us making me forget about the whole world, all my worries and struggles. Sneaky bastard. My sneaky bastard that made me feel safe and seen and taken care of. There were sure a lot of things to work on but he definitely knew how to make the effort worth the effect.

“I love you.” He muttered pulling away and resting his forehead on mine. “Let me take care of you, be there for you the same way you always are for me, ok? Don't run. Promise me?”

“Ok” I whispered closing my eyes. It felt so good having him so close and I pulled myself closer just to get more of his warmth “just…. don’t get impatient if it goes slow…..”

“I won’t.” he swore. “I won’t“ he repeated pulling me in and we just stood there, in the middle of the training room gently swaying left and right being vulnerable together.  We surely were a very complicated and very in-love with each other couple.

@somest1 @pinksirensong

[vladr2566]

It's finally here well part one of the fic!! This is my first fiction so please go easy on me lol and ik this first part is short pleas bare with me my computer had bugged out and I lost all the parts so I'm starting back at square one

⚠️⚠️⚠️CW WARNING: SMUT GORE STRONG LANGUAGE AGE GAP Mention OF ABUSE AND ASSULT DEATH MENTION OF SA AND CANNIBALISM CULTS AND HEAVY TOPICS OF RELIGIOUS ABUSE! AND UNPROTECTED SEX (mostly in later parts) YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Reader is 23 and slayer is at least 500 years old(basied on what i googled and the events of eternal)⚠️⚠️⚠️

Fem!reader x doom slayer

Hell's little rabbit part 1

Hell's little Rabbit

Part 1

You don't know how or when it happened but the cult of God had gotten their hands on you, they found you interesting, your rabbit ears, your rabbit tail, your rabbit feet. They never saw a human rabbit hybrid, well a hybrid in general. They kept you locked up in a dark damp cell in the abandoned jail they called home on this demon infested earth. They worshiped God who had abandoned them long ago, before the demons attacked.

Their leader, Peter, would take care of you. He would visit daily and give you food and water and in return you had to give yourself to him or he would beat you till you complied. He would preach on how yiu were special and was ment to dave them. You hated him, wanted him dead even but last time you tried to kill Peter he had broken your arm. His wives didn't like you because you were his favorite, they called you freak and whore, other times they would sneak in and beat you.

Today was a special day, the day of sacrifice, and you were the chosen one. You were kept alive for 13 years just for this, to be sacrifice to the demons so the cult could be blessed by the God they believed in. It was rainy today the first rain in years. Peter ties your arms on a cross and kissed you on last time, you grimace and spat in his face which earned yiu a harsh slap across the face.

He turns to his people and spoke, "Childern of God! Today we gather here today to feed the beast that plague us, and our way of living! Let us bow our heads in prayer and let us pray to our lord and savor Jesus Christian , and the one almighty God!"

They lowered their head as Peter leads them in prayer, "OH heavenly father who art tho in heaven! Please let this sacrifice keep the demon at bay for another 13 years, thank you for letting us find this girl when we did! She was 10 years old and lost, she was just a child when we took her in and now she is a woman! Still pure because she served me, her husband, very well! May her sacrifice keep us safe and my her soul join you in heaven! I know she is different from the others but may her rabbit genetics satisfy the demons! Amen!"

"Amen!" The others said in unison. The days passed as Peter and the other higher ups for the cult watch and waited for the demons. You were weak and exhausted, barely hanging on. The heat and the weather doing its toll on your body.

It's now been a week and nothing, it was scary quite. Then there was screams, you couldn't care you was ready to die. After an hour or so the screaming stops, you heard heavy footsteps approach but was too weak to lift your head. You felt a strong hand lift your head and you see a man or thing in green armor. He cut your hands free and you fell into his arms, that's all you remembered before passing out.

You woke up in a bed, how long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? You weren't sure but you sure knew you were hungry, you looked around the room you were now in. It confused and scared you, you had no clue where you was but something caught your eye. You get up and hobbled over to the small table in the corner and grabbed the sandwich that was left, your hunger overpowered your thoughts and you scarfed down the small meal.

You then looked at yourself in the mirror and saw you were bandaged up and somewhat clean. Your ears perked up as you heard footsteps and walked in a robot? You grabbed the plate from the table and get ready to throw it.

"Who are you and where am i?!" You demanded

"Hello, I am Vega the on board AI. The slayer brought you in after he had found you on earth. How are you feeling miss, need anything?" He asked

You shake your head no and slightly relaxed.

"No thank you..."

"If you need anything let me know miss, this room has a bathroom so if you want you can shower." And with that Vega left. You made your way to the bathroom and saw some clean clothes, fresh bandages, and some soaps as well as shampoo and conditioner.

You smiled and took the first shower you had in years, you washed off the dirt and old blood and then spent a lot of time on washing your matted hair. One your done you get out and then cut your hair short so it's easier to manage.

You could hear the same heavy footsteps out In the hall so you got dressed and left the room. You peaked out and saw the large man in green armor your savoir. You quietly followed him but he disappeared into his room. You wanted to thank him but how?

[ronqueesha]

re: the allergies/holidays/birthday/etc post you just reblogged, can we have a few little known facts about sarit, or iona? (or both if I'm very lucky)

Sure! (And thank you for letting me talk about my beloved characters)

A funny thing about Sarit and her long list of medical issues: she has no known allergies at all! Even the exotic allergies common in the settled systems from various alien flora and fauna that can debilitate many other people. Sarit's ravaged and painful lungs have no problem handling all known forms of alien pollen/dander/allergens you can think of.

She grew out her hair only once, in her teen years when she was still figuring herself out. But other than that, Sarit has kept the same haircut she had since she was that sickly little boy sitting behind a computer terminal while bedridden.

She LOVES chunks pumpkin pie. This is perplexing to others, especially Andreja, since it has the consistency and appearance of gelatinous orange poison.

She can control her mechanical prosthetic right arm wirelessly. It doesn't happen often, but she does have the ability to make her arm crawl to her using its fingers like a horrible metal spider.

Her birthday is September 14.

I mentioned it before, but my favorite comfort headcanon is that Sarit is distantly related to an alternate-universe version of my Fallout 4 OCs Zoe and Nathan Bhatia. In Starfield's universe, Zoe and Nathan were happily married in 2077 and lived happily ever after with their son Shaun. Shaun would go on to have a brilliant career in robotics and computers that would lay the foundation for the technology used in the settled systems. Shaun Bhatia is Sarit's great-great-great-great-great grandfather.

Over the course of the crusade, Iona found various ways (many of them very unethical) to taste the blood of her companions, and learned to identify each of them from taste alone.

Iona's birthday is the Pathfinder equivalent of August 27. (and naturally, that is also Saints Row Iona's birthday)

When Iona is bored during a long war council meeting, she will summon a servant to fetch her a mug of cow's blood she will loudly sip to signal her desire to end the meeting. If things continue against her wishes, she will send for a crazy bendy straw to loudly slurp up the last drops of blood from the mug.

Iona is very tall, one of the perks of being a dhampir. She inherited many of the positive traits of a full vampire, including the unearthly conventional beauty and a tall physique. She is a very slutty supermodel with supernatural powers over blood.

Despite having a mountain of kinks, one of Iona's semi-secret turn offs is receiving pain. She is very much not a masochist in bed, and prefers inflicting pain via her fangs or other sex toys her partner consents to using.

One of her favorite ways of flirting with Arueshalae is following a battle, the two of them will walk through the battlefield, over the corpses of their enemies to retrieve Arue's arrows. Arueshalae will pull each arrow out of the bodies of their foes and salaciously hand them to Iona so she can lewdly lick the blood off the blades of the weapons. This display often makes their fellow companions uncomfortable, if not queasy. The two of them often have to quickly retreat to the privacy of the commander's tent in the aftermath, with Iona's chin dripping with gore and Arue's bright red eyes flaring with desire.

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 10-13 chapters 7-9 here chapters 4-6 here chapters 1-3 here

after a little break i am back with a new installment i'm doing 4 chapters today because this book only has 19 chapters.

once again: kate argent is her own warning.. there's an entire flashback chapter of her and derek when he was a teenager. she explicitly grooms him.

Our intrepid heroes are still in the goddamn woods. We shall never leave. Allison is cold and so Scott snuggles with her to share body heat. Classic trope but I have read many missing persons cases. Hypothermia can happen even when you don’t think it can. 

And we have yet another example of Derek being characterized as kind of a dick. He and Stiles find a campfire as Derek tries to track the scent of the Alpha and/or locate Scott. Stiles is just having a bad time as he’s winded from trying to keep up with Derek. Derek leaves him there. I reject this. No. Derek never left Stiles anywhere like this. Especially not with danger afoot. It very much stands in contrast to Wolf’s Bane when Derek crawls over broken glass and fights Peter, distracting him from Stiles.

The Queen has finally arrived. We finally get some Lydia narration. She also comes with Danny and some random dude Damon. 

It had been kind of annoying Danny hasn’t been involved that much considering he is Jackson’s best friend.

Have I mentioned that I don’t particularly care for how Danny is handled in this book? First you have Stiles assuming they should send Danny to the pay-by-the-hour motel because he’s gay and now Lydia’s narration is stereotyping the poor guy. “Dark-haired, with that cool Hawaiian vibe he had.” Danny was right to leave y'all.

Danny says he doesn’t have Lydia’s phone number which I sincerely doubt. 

I want to throw hands with this line “He gave her a completely non-sexual once over.” It’s giving gay-best friend trope vibes which to be fair was at its height in the 2010s and let’s face it this is how Lydia was often written pre-character development (and even after). Especially in the Sterek fandom. Don’t y’all try to tell me otherwise. I was there, Gandalf. 

There is this little section of Lydia’s I think deserves some commentary. The way this book has a subplot for Allison and Scott revolving around how they want to sleep together and the way Jackson and Lydia think of their relationship, especially their sexual relationship is interesting. Now, I’m no pearl clutching Puritan on this subject but the way that sex is handled in this narrative strikes me as too adult for their age. But this passage makes me change my perspective a little. These are kids acting too adult because they feel pressured in other areas of their lives to be adults without the experience and emotional capacity to do so. That fits in with Teen Wolf’s narrative. 

“Are you going through his stuff?” Danny queried, and she have him her best patronizing look, “Please,” She said, “You must know that I have a drawer here.” Damon looked even more impressed. Very few teenagers could claim the very adult perk of having a drawer containing their belongings at their boy -- or girlfriend’s house. Not that many teenagers had the need. It spoke of changing clothes, spending the night. Adult stuff.  Sex.”

Jackson’s computer wallpaper is Lydia which is sweet but then she says she picked it out herself which is less sweet. 

Jackson’s computer password is fucking Captain. You deserve to be hacked, Jackson.

Now Lydia brought Danny and his hanger on Damon from her house to Jackson’s because they’re looking for a CD Jackson apparently burned for Damon to use to DJ for a party. The 2010s of it all came out and kneed me in the solar plexus. Even Lydia was wondering why Jackson didn’t just make a shared playlist. But she searches through Jackson’s stuff stalling a little so she can snoop. This is all important because we finally get to the actual plot of why Jackson was lured away and missing in the first place. People want to rob the Whittermore’s while they’re out of town. Jackson at this point is still being held at gunpoint over in the preserve. 

The would be robbers -- henceforth referred to as Thing One and Thing Two -- assault Lydia and threaten her demanding to know if there are other people in the house. Lydia truly gets a raw deal no matter what.

Meanwhile, Derek’s left Stiles and is trying to follow the scene of the Alpha. He uses the word “shedding” to refer to how he left Stiles. I cannot impress enough how he would not fucking say that.

Derek’s out of luck though because the scent he comes across is old. He is at the place he found Laura’s body where he has a Moment of Anger before he moves on he picks up on Jackson’s scent. He recalls how he dug his claws into Jackson back in Magic Bullet and feels a tiny bit bad. He finds a half burned article about Jackson and does what I deem a Derek thing to do and that’s pocket it because he’s “keeping tabs on Jackson”. It’s stalking, Derek.

Narration switches back to Stiles and of course he gets weird quickly and Stiles what the fuck? Stiles doing something like this during the later seasons wouldn’t be out of the norm. He’s paranoid, hyper vigilant and suspicious at that point but here? Season 1? Stalker.

“He had tried calling Scott a couple more times, then Allison, then Lydia. He’d had her phone in his possession when he deleted the picture she’d accidentally taken of the Alpha. Of course he’d also inputted her number into his own phone; how stalkerish was that?”

Derek reappears and scares Stiles. Stiles observes “He was kind of sweaty, and he looked glummer than usual.” Stiles refuses to be normal about Derek. 

They have a little tiff except it’s them being worried about the same thing but in opposite directions. 

“Stiles crossed his arms and hunched over, shivering and trying to make himself inconspicuous, in cast the Alpha spotted Derek and decided to attack him. But Derek was a Beta werewolf too, like Scott. Why wasn’t he part of the Alpha’s pack? Maybe he is. Maybe he just hasn’t told us, he thought. “Or maybe it’s some kind of trap,” Derek said, “Something the Argents cooked up.” “You mean that Allison’s in on it?” Stiles asked, sounding incredulous.  Derek slid a glance at him. “Why do you sound so surprised? You know what the Argents are. What they do.``

And so we have arrived. The part of this book I remember the most. The Derek Hale Flashbacks. We go six years into the past. 

This is definitely where the idea of Kate Argent working at Beacon Hills High comes from and it makes a lot of sense. It even works even better given the context of season 2 where the Argents actually infiltrate the school as a tactic. 

Holder puts Derek on the swim team which is funny in retrospect because of how the swim team is important to the story of season 2 but Derek is established in season 3 as having been on the basketball team like Peter.

Holder also does a little world building on werewolf customs and pack dynamics here which the show lacks in detail. The way Holder does it is far more patriarchal than what the Hales actually are in the show. There’s a focus on Derek’s father (unnamed even here), the contest/rivalry between him and his cousin Josh, entrance into manhood and Uncle Peter. 

I am still deeply amused by Holder making the Beast of Gevaudan an ancestor of the Hales when the show took the route of making it far more deeply connected to the Argents.

The deepest of sighs at this : “Unlike Laura, who was popular, he didn’t have any human friends, and he didn’t want any.” I just have the hardest time with isolationist, anti-human Derek. Season 3 Derek called and told Book Derek to fuck himself. Derek had a posse of generic human friends.

Kate preys on Derek while she fills in for the main coach as he’s on paternity leave. Also Kate’s up here just brassily using her actual name.

Like Derek’s about 16 here so I can easily buy him noticing a pretty young woman in close proximity to him but Holder does a good job in making it clear that while Derek’s attracted to Kate superficially her interest in him makes him uncomfortable. Derek’s narration says things like “Flustered, even a little frightened.” and “He practically ran out of the school, looking over his shoulder.”

Holder then parallels Scott and Allison once more which is a, um, choice by describing Kate’s hair in the moonlight and Derek almost wolfing out. 

Apparently Laura and Derek shared a Subaru Forester. Which Hale lesbian bought this?

Now up until this point I’ve mostly avoided talking about Laura and her presence in this book because I was saving it for this scene. Laura Hale is a ghost in the narrative in the show. She’s seen maybe three different times outside of being a corpse. She’s never actually named in any of those short appearances and no one talks about her. Here she’s mentioned several times by Scott, Stiles and Derek. Plus now she’s shown in Derek’s flashbacks. I don’t like her all that much here and I think this might be where some of Laura’s fanon characterization comes from. 

Anyway, Derek and Laura are at a diner together eating hamburgers. Derek drinks Diet Coke. Look, I don’t see him as a Diet Coke drinker but that’s not the point here. Derek mentions Kate and how he thinks she’s so beautiful. Laura has this moment where she seems concerned:

“Is this...woman a student?” Laura asked. “No. She’s the new lifeguard. Ms. Argent.” Mr. Braswell’s replacement.” “School lifeguard?” she said, looking mildly shocked. “A teacher?”

After this though Laura’s characterization takes a nosedive. She refers to Kate as a slut when at this point in time Kate hasn’t really done anything necessarily wrong. Derek only really tells Laura of thinking she’s pretty. Laura’s never even met her.

She goes on to tease Derek about his crush -- the word mateable is used 🤮 -- and Derek shuts down. “Suddenly, he didn’t feel like talking to her about it anymore.”

I hate it here.

The next scene is another flashback I recall vividly. Melissa and baby Scott being abused by Mr. McCall. This fuckface trying to convince Scott that his asthma attack isn’t real and it’s all in his head. I want this man to die. Interesting that later when Rafael McCall is introduced he’s still The Worst.

Catch these hands. “Scott didn’t want him to yell at his mom because Scott had asthma. It wasn’t her fault. It was his, Scott’s.” 

If Melissa McCall had killed him no would have charged her. 

Back in the present we return to Scott and Allison. They’re still cuddling but realize they’re supposed to be looking for Allison’s keys. Her phone rings and they have a mishap which sends Allison down the incline. She takes him with her.

They recover but Allison has now lost her keys and phone. Bad day all around for Ally A.

Scott finds Allison’s phone using his wolf powers but he can’t let her know that so they use his phone to call hers. 

Her ringtone for him is apparently a band called Kids of 88. I had never heard of them so after a quick search their biggest hit was in 2009 My House. Which again -- sex.

Scott went to get her phone but he’s prevented by an invisible barrier. Wolfsbane. He makes up a lie about his leg being hurt because like how else do you explain not being able to touch a bush?

They sit down and Scott’s having thoughts like “Oh I wish Derek were here” so you know it’s not great. Allison talks a little about how she’s close to her parents.

They are fucking kissing again. Stop it. It’s not the time. 

Scott decides to text Stiles and says Stiles knows his username and password. We all know. It’s the ever iconic Allison. Jackson and Scott truly deserve each other.

I forgot Jackson was still being held at gunpoint while all this has been going on.

Jackson makes an attempt to escape but yet another guy is waiting at the Porsche. How many people are there? Two here, Cassie probably and then the two at the house. So 5 people in total it appears. Geez. 

His escape fails and he’s taken hostage. Jackson never has a good time. 

All of Chapter 13 is Kate and Derek. Shall we brace ourselves?

“One by one the other swimmers left, and he’d remained behind, torn between disappointment that she hadn’t done it again, and complete and utter relief that she was staying away from him.” Holder writes young Derek having the instinct to know Kate’s attention isn’t good.

Now Holder does do some interesting bits of worldbuilding but like I said earlier it seems so patriarchal. Surrounding challenges and fighting. His view of humans in the book is one of paternalism. 

Kate is going in for the kill now and I’m crawling up my own spine. She makes herself come across as demure. She’s playing meek and turning the whole thing back on Derek giving him the illusion of choice as she grooms him. She purposefully is coming across as more of a peer than an adult figure with authority. 

“She swirled her fingers in the water. “And this isn’t really my style, you know?” I don’t come onto men like this.” Men. She thought of him as a man. He licked his lips, completely tongue-tied. “I wish you’d say something,” she murmured. “I’m kind of dying about it now. I’m sorry if I misread your intentions. I won’t bother you again.” “I know we’d have to be careful. Outsiders might not understand.”

Excuse me. Earlier Derek mentioned his rival -- his cousin Josh -- apparently Peter’s sister-in-law’s kid. Here he mentions Laura had made out with Josh the previous Wolf Moon. Did Laura make out with their cousin?!?!?!?!?!? There’s no other Josh in this book. Like I get they’re not blood related if Josh is Peter’s sister-in-law’s kid (which lol okay bro) but what is happening here on this day?

Kate wants Derek to come home with her for privacy -- ew. So Derek calls Laura to negotiate. Hence the whole conversation about Laura making out with cousin Josh. Laura says “This is so you can do something slutty.” I deeply dislike this characterization of Laura.

And now we’re in Kate’s narration for the flashbacks. I need a shower after reading her thoughts. God, I hate Kate.

Holder goes into detail about her ideas on werewolves. It’s interesting. There’s competition for rank within the pack, challenges and rituals. I want to do a post specifically about it maybe, but I am offended on Talia Hale’s behalf here. It’s very focused on males. The automatic assumption that the Alpha is Derek’s father.

 I cannot say fuck Kate enough. “Some kids in high school are babies and others are all grown up, ready for the real world. Like you.” The classic manipulation tactic of oh but you’re so mature for your age or oh they’re such an old soul. 

Wishing Kate Argent a go ahead and die.

[bellafragolina]

Idk if you want to do it but, train twins get their digi eggs out of the computer. Either they both get a single egg with terriermon and lopmon or they get 2 separate with the tailmon. If they are separate then I imagine one getting it at home while the other at work and trying to hide it so the other doesn't get jealous, not knowing the other has an egg.

So much research I did! I hope it’s relatively correct?? I did my best for you!

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo was not expecting to have an egg bleb out of his computer at the start of his early work day. Judging by the surprised squawk Emmet gave across the room from him, his twin wasn’t expecting it either. This wasn’t something that normally happened, but here they were.

Ingo ran his thumb over the pale egg, tracing the edge of a brownish splotch on the shell. Emmet flitted around him, jabbering in staggered, unfinished sentences that he couldn’t finish in his excitement. Ingo, too caught up in his own shock, hardly heard his brother, too busy cradling his little egg.

It was decently heavy, no doubt full of something, something living and breathing. It was nice and warm too, like a ball left in the sun. Ingo huddled the little thing closer to his chest, using his jacket to shield it from the AC winds.

“Perhaps it’s a Porygon.” He said, resting his cheek on the tapered tip.

“Ingo!” Emmet squawked again, fists lightly bopping on his head. “You are not listening! It is! Not! A Pokémon!”

“Not a Pokémon?” Ingo echoed. He twisted, smacking away Emmet’s fists. Emmet, with the new opening, reached to run his own hands over the egg, practically beaming. “What else would it be?”

“A Digimon!” Emmet yelled, best he could. He danced, swinging side to side, as he tapped his fingers to the egg’s shell. “A Digimon for us! Remember, Ingo? Digimon!”

“I heard you.” Ingo said, amused by how joyous Emmet was. But thinking about it, this was something to be extremely excited about. Ingo knew not of any other Digimon sighting, or plain existence outside of this moment he was sharing with Emmet. To think, a childhood wish could come true this way. “We can’t be sure, however-”

“I am sure!” Emmet swept egg up into his own hands, holding it up like something to be worshiped. It was Ingo’s turn to squawk as he immediately began to chastise his brother for being so reckless with something so fragile. “I wonder what Digimon we got. I want an Agumon! But I will need a Koromon first. We will battle well! I will train him-”

Ingo took the egg back, to Emmet’s displeased huff. Ignoring his twin, Ingo took his cap off, stuffing with his gloves and Emmet’s when passed them. With that on his desk, he tucked the egg into the makeshift nest.

Now that the egg was safe, he turned to Emmet with a snarl. “It is not yours! It came out of my computer!”

“You didn’t even know it was a Digimon!”

“That is irrelevant!”

“You neglected its identity!”

“Don’t you start that-!”

“Appa!”

The twins froze. Slowly, Ingo turned around, shocked to see the egg broken and a tiny green slime poking out of the broken shell. The little creature chirped and cooed, tail wagging. It easily leaped into the hands Ingo offered, snuggling against his skin.

Emmet, ignoring the tears rolling down Ingo’s cheeks, beelined to the other slime hidden into the shell. He peeked inside, and a little brown slime peered back at him. He beamed.

“Hello!” Emmet sang. The little beast perked up some. “Hello, Conomon!”

“Zerimon!” Ingo sobbed, rubbing his cheek to the twittering slime’s.

“Appa!”

Any argument laid forgotten in the face of two cute new friends.

🍓🍓🍓

Weird as fuck that digimon can talk. Anyway, Appa is a parental term. I thought it was cuter than them saying papa ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hope you like it!

~Renee

[cosmica-galaxy]

wait, thinking about that ask that talked about the live action grunts thing, gotta remember Player(In salty's au that is) is a streamer, imagine one of the boys accidentally passes by in the background of their stream and people start asking about it, chat asking whoever was that that walked by to come to the camera. and if one of them- say Deimos ends up showing his face- unaware Player was streaming- and people start freaking out about it because "WTF WHATS DEIMOS'S ACTOR DOING IN YOUR HOUSE PLAYER??" or worse, if a fan meets Player in the streets while accompanied by the boys- they'll freak out about it like OH SHIT ITS THE ACTORS. what do they do then?? just be like "oh no its just my roommates that look a lot like them haha and they're cosplaying ahaha" HJGFEWA WAIT FUCK IF SOME RANDOM THAT JUST RECOGNIZES THEM AS THE CHARACTERS- sorry my brain is going at 100 speed - Plague Anon [|87

Being a streamer has many perks.

You get to play games for a living, get paid by strangers, run events for charity, and never have to leave your home to socialize or deal with people in public. But there are some unexpected drawbacks from being a streamer. Getting doxxed, being messaged by needy creeps, and getting rather...unflattering fanart was part of the gig.

However, there was also just the reality that your camera captured more than just you sometimes. One day while you were streaming, you had forgotten to lock the door to your room as you usually do. A practice that became normal after you started getting regular visits from your beloved Nevadeans.

Today, Deimos just decided to randomly come into your room while you were live. You, being focused on the game you were playing, didn't take notice of the door to your streaming room opening and revealing the humanoid Deimos to the chat.

It took a text-to-speech bit alert to let you know that someone was in your room. Upon turning around and seeing Deimos, you nearly choked on your spit in shock.

The mercenary wasted no time hurrying over and getting into your business. Giving the cam a great shot of him looking at your screen and set up.

The chat starts going wild as you internally freak out.

"Hey, what's up with this gig? Is this how you've been seeing us--"

"SHH!! D, why are you here?!"

You hurriedly whisper as you try to push the merc back away from your cam with little success. The moment he spoke, the chat was flooded with surprise and heart emojis.

"OH! This is that 'Chat' you keep mentioning! What's up, chat!!" Deimos would happily respond to a flood of pog emojis and hearts. "Look, they all know my name! Isn't that cute?"

"DEI." You say sternly, finally getting the impulsive merc to look at you.

Completely unaware that Sanford had also entered the room and was currently standing over your left shoulder, in contrast to Deimos standing on your right. The chat took notice of him quickly and also started freaking out about Sanford.

One comment about Sanford and you turn around to look at the new arrival with wide eyes.

"Sanford! Look! This is Player's "chat" and they LOVE me!" Deimos gloats as Sanford looks at the screen as the Player hunches down and nervously flicks their gaze from the two men in the room to the computer and back again.

The chat goes nuts again with pogs and heart emojis with many of the chatters screaming in all caps for Sanford to flex. Sanford can't help the smile that creeps on his face as he watches, what appears to be numerous fans, BEG him to flex his muscles.

To which, Sanford obliges and it causes the chat to go full rabid.

"Hey! I can flex too!!" Deimos chimes in as he also starts flexing, fueling the thirst of the chat by a major amount.

Poor Player can only cover their face in the corner of the camera in exasperation as the two grunts-turned-human flex and show off in their cam to excite their audience. Each one soaking up the compliments thrown at them like sponges.

"OKAY, OKAY! TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES, WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK!!" You loudly shout before pressing a series of buttons, muting your mic, throwing up the 'technical difficulties: please hold' intermission, and closing the cover on your camera.

Then you turn to the two mercenaries in the room.

"What are you two doing?!? How am I going to explain this to the chat?? There's now going to be so many rumors that I live or know the live action cast for Madness Combat! When you aren't even the same people! This is WHY I tell you again and again to stay out of the streaming room when I'm live!"

You scold the two like children as you flick your gaze to the screen, seeing how upset chat had gotten after you booted them to the issue intermission.

"Oh...we're sorry, Player. I probably should've grabbed Deimos and pulled him out of the room when I had the chance." Sanford regretfully states, looking down in an ashamed manner.

"I'm not sorry. Did you SEE how my voice could make so many people melt? I got so many heart emojis! They love me~"

Deimos is then promptly whacked on the head by his taller partner as the two get into a slight argument.

You can only sigh and shake your head and pinch your nose.

How were you going to explain this one...?

Housing interdimensional beings was much harder than you originally thought...

[m3dia-dump]

Dress to Impress

I have been playing video games for a long time now ever since I was about 4 or 5. Being raised as a girl I have always gravitated towards more customizable games such as dress up games or decor games. My favorites while growing up have been Animal Jam, Minecraft, The Sims 4 and of course Roblox. I remember staying up past my bedtime as an 8 year old driven to raise enough money to buy furniture for my Adopt Me house(a popular game on Roblox). Just a year ago I had an obsession with the Sims 4 and customizing my Sims to perfection, researching custom content online and even making some of my own... well at least trying to. I would spend hours on these games a day hoping to express my personality through customization and art in these games. All of these games have aspects where you can customize your characters or where you live in the games. My passion is in art and I wanted to originally make my Blog about my AP 2D art experience, but I find art in many forms of Media as well. I want to be a game designer after all. Finding well made games is a feeling of excitement and passion that can't be described.

bellow is an image of my hours on The Sims 4

One new game that has single handedly brought me back into my gaming addiction is the Roblox game Dress to Impress. In this game you are given a theme and your job is to create an outfit in 5 in a half minute that is both aesthetically pleasing and on theme. There is a selection of trendy and interesting clothing pieces, accessories, and props that you can choose from. You can change certain aspects of these clothing pieces and change your hair, face, and skintone allowing you to be creative in every aspect.

Sounds super simple and it's not like other games on Roblox haven't followed this same idea. But DTI(Dress to Impress) does it in a way that makes the game stand out. Whether you are playing alone or with friends, you will be sitting at your computer for hours. The numbers don't lie, with over 2 Billion visits and an overall rating of 91% the influence of DTI cannot go unseen. Celebrities have even been caught playing the game, even though its expected audience is 10-16 year old girls. This game has caught the attention of many.

Now, what is so special about a Roblox dress-up game you may be asking. And to that I can give you many reasons. One reason is how user friendly and accessible the game is. The game is hosted on Roblox, a free to play game that you can play on mobile, pc and even some consoles. This allows for anyone to play DTI easily. The game is also pretty easy to play mechanically. You walk around a room and choose items from mannequins. You vote on others outfits on a scale of 1-5 stars. Then a new round begins after a short intermission. This allows the game to have constant rounds and constant things to do in the game. Having an easy to play game that is accessible and free to play is a perk of hosting a game on Roblox.

Another reason can be the celebrity collabs in the game. The most recent collab was a collab with Charli XCX, a popular pop singer from the UK who dropped an album this summer named Brat. Dubbing the summer of 2024 "Brat Summer". This collab brought new Brat themed items into the game and even the background music of the game was Charli XCX's work. Not too many veteran players liked this collaboration very much because they felt like it took a lot of creativity out of the game. The collab was taken out after a few weeks but the items were kept. This collaboration highlighted the reach of DTI and definitely solidified the game into the mainstream.

Now what do I like about the game? I love how customizable the characters are. I love the selection of clothes and how regular the updates are. There is always new content and there is always something bringing me back. I also love playing with my friends and seeing their outfits on the runway. I have great memories of me and my friends judging others outfits and voting each other 5 stars so we can up our ranks. I love the inside jokes of the community and how creative people are. I also feel like I can almost practice my style by creating outfits in the game.

Although I love this game I do have some critice. For one the voting system is often broken. There are 3 winners at the end of the voting and often it is clear that some people do not deserve these wins. It's clear because some people on the podium have no clothes selected or hair but still manage to win. Some people are completely off theme and some amazing outfits don't even get podium. This makes the game extremely hard to win. A lot of people don't vote because they don't want you to get more stars than them. I also don't like the paywall on some items. Some items are locked behind a VIP wall that costs real money to get. There are also certain poses and makeup hidden behind paywalls. This makes the game a lot harder to win because a lot of really amazing items cost money. It seems more like a pay to win thing. You can still make great outfits with free items but it makes it hard to make your outfit have its full potential. Some users are also pretty rude when it comes to judging outfits. Rude comments about people having ugly outfits and being too basic just scream pretentious 13 year old.

Overall I love this game despite its flaws and it is where I go to relax after a long day. I have some amazing memories with friends and I love allowing myself to be creative through this game. I would recommend it for anyone who is in need of a new game addiction. 

citations:https://www.roblox.com/games/15101393044/Dress-To-Impress

Bellow are some images of my outfits in the game

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Matrix (1999)

If all movies belong somewhere on a spectrum between “Confrontational” and “Wish Fulfilment”, then The Matrix is so far on the side of power fantasies it circles back around to say something about the oppressive system that reality can be. Unmistakably 1999, extremely stylish and teeming with groundbreaking special effects, it's got dozens of quotable lines, moments, characters and action scenes. This is a movie everyone should see at least once.

Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is a computer programmer who moonlights as the hacker “Neo”. When he encounters the legendary Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) online, he becomes privy to a dark secret about our world. Joining a small band of rebels and told by their leader Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) that he is the prophecyzed hero they’ve been waiting for, Neo might be the only one who can save humanity from the shackles of “The Matrix” and the hidden oppressors that have us all in an elaborate cage.

Today, The Matrix is the first part of a franchise that includes several sequels, an animated anthology film, video games, and more. You probably know the film’s big secret: although initially, the film looks like it’s taking place in 1999 New York, that's a lie. This story is set at an unknown point in the future in which humanity has been enslaved. After losing the war between man and machine, everyone alive is imprisoned in a virtual world, unaware that everything around them is nothing more than signals fed through their brains. Meanwhile, their real bodies are fed intravenously and the electrical currents and heat our bodies generate power our mechanical oppressors. Woah. There’s no way you would’ve seen that coming in 1999. Even today, it’s a great premise that opens up a world of insane possibilities the film is eager to engage with when it isn't putting its focus on the action.

You see, Neo, Trinity, Morpheus, Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) and the others know the truth - they’ve chosen the red pill and have had their eyes opened. They know the real world isn’t real at all. This allows them to “cheat” at reality. The mechanical ports in their skulls (a great bit of skin-crawling cyberpunk horror) allow them to instantly upload knowledge into their minds. One moment you’re a regular pale-faced keyboard operator. The next, you’re a superhero with an unparalelled mastery of every martial arts known to man. Is there a more fulfilling fantasy? Our heroes instantly stand out from a crowd thanks to their impossibly cool long leather coats and dark sunglasses. They effortlessly blow away their opponents with weapons they conjure out of thin air (one of the perks of living in a digital world is that you can hack it) and when the bullets run out, they pull off the kinds of punches and kicks only possible in a video game.

The Matrix excels at delivering entertaining sights and sounds, at showing the audience what it wants to see. Though unassuming, “Neo” is “the One”, a human prophesied to free humankind from the big machine that’s got us all living mundane lives. At one point or another (probably in our teenage years) we've all thought “I wish someone would tell me I'm special”. The Wachowskis have taken our deepest desires and made them physical. Neo and his brothers-in-arms look impossibly cool, they can do things no one else possibly could. They’ve woken up from the dream. Now, societal norms and rules they only followed out of obligation no longer apply. Even the laws of gravity start backing off. People dodge bullets. Their jumps, punches and kicks are shot in glorious stop-motion, allowing us to see how impossibly well-choreographed and ferocious they are. If, by the end of the movie, the hero doesn’t get the girl, I’ll eat my hat.

Perfectly embodying the oppressive simulated reality prison these rebels are fighting against is Hugo Weaving as Agent Smith. He’s the kind of bad guy you can never forget. He's not a man. He's literally part of the system; a program within the Matrix that’s allowed to bend the rules of physics so he can squash any rebellion. It’s clear the actor is having the time of his life with this character. He’s cartoonish in a way but it works because the whole film is exaggerated. It wouldn't have been enough for him to have been nasty; he needed to be larger than life and smug too.

It doesn’t take long for The Matrix to get going and once the energy starts to crackle, you get non-stop bolts of lightning directly into your eyes. Is the movie deep, or is it just a steady flow of would-be religious and philosophical themes? It doesn’t matter. The expertly choreographed action scenes and dazzling special effects keep things moving. In other circumstances, the characters (who range from well-developed to mere archetypes) would feel like tools used to segway us from one scene to the next but something about the entire package makes you believe this is everything the Wachowskis have always wanted to show, fully realized. It’s a dream come true, and you can’t wait to see what’s next. (On Blu-ray, January 1, 2022)