#the hints are keyboard and -2

[new-bug-ideas]

moj rka pf pqgtbpsktydmxt

[simpurnatural]

“Our Little Secret” || Short-Fic

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "Okay, but me coming back to Tumblr after binging xo kitty wasn't on my 2025 bingo card. We are so back babe! Enjoy these crumbs whilst I dust off my keyboard ToT"

Warning(s): Spoilers for "XO, Kitty" seasons 1 & 2, Smut, Language, Not Proofread

"I swear, if you get caught one of these days then you're on your own!" Q warned, Dae chuckling lightly as they watched Min Ho slipped on a pair of shoes.

"I won't get caught," Min Ho replied as he turned his head to face them. "When have I ever gotten caught?" he scoffed as he examined himself in the mirror.

"Uhm literally last week when you sprinted around campus in the early morning and only wearing underwear and socks," Q retorted from the couch before realizing, "That was a bit more of a close call if I'm being real here,".

"Exactly, never got caught and never will," Min Ho said with a sly smirk, "Plus, Y/n is in the solo unit dorms," he reminds before walking out the door.

"It'll only be a matter of time," Dae sighed, shaking his head at his best friend's recklessness.

You heard the sound of a knocks on your dorm room door, instantly recognizing the specific pattern to inform you that it was Min Ho waiting to be let in.

Hurriedly yet excitedly, you made your way to the door and swiftly opened it. Min Ho was taken aback by the clothes or rather the lack thereof it on your small frame.

"Why are you here so early?" you whispered, yanking him into the room before shutting the door behind you. "I haven't gotten my nightly dorm inspection yet,".

"Well, I couldn't wait to see you and who said we couldn't have some fun til’ they get here?" Min Ho replied in a hushed yet seductive tone, his eyes taking in the sight before him. "You wouldn't mind a little inspection of our own, would you?" he smirked as his has slithered their way around your waist.

You suddenly felt as though any clever retort you had bubbling in your system faded away. Min Ho pulled you in closely, allowing for you both to be basically sharing the same breath of air. He leaned in, catching your lips against his while tightening his hold on you.

With every kiss, the difficulty to pull away became more intense. You brushed your tongue against Min Ho’s lip as he backed you into the wall adjacent to the front door. His hands began to hike up your silk night gown.

“I could just take you right here,” Min Ho muttered under his breath, his cold hands making contact with your warm, soft skin.

The palm of his hand gently gave your breast a squeeze. You let out a whine as his icy cold touch messaged your chest. This only made the tent in Minh’s trousers tighter.

“But someone might hear us,” you say, an aching feeling beginning between your legs. “They could be here any minute,” you remind as Min Ho effortlessly lifted you off the ground.

“Then you better stay quiet,” he said without a hint of worry in his tone.

With one hand on your ass to keep you in place, he utilized the other to undo his belt and trousers. By this point, you were sure a whole waterfall had made its descent down your leg. Min Ho chuckled as he kicked his pants away from him after they pooled around his ankles.

He felt your clothed cunt throb, with only your panties and his boxers in the way. The notorious playboy has slept with countless girls but you were just so different. He had never been with someone who looked just as good on the outside as she felt when he’s inside

Wasting no time, Min Ho removed all remaining articles of clothing. The tip of his cock teased the lips of your pussy. He loved how your wetness basically coated his manhood like a glazed donut.

“M-Min Ho-“ you whimpered impatiently, just wanting to feel his dick be buried deep inside already. “Fuck,” you gasped as half his length pushed inside your walls.

“So tight for me,” Min Ho groaned before pulling out, just to thrust right back in.

His hips rhythmically jutted up against yours. Your body was in compete ecstasy as Min Ho’s breaths grew heavy. He yanked the thin straps of your night gown down just to watch your tits bounce with no restraint.

Min Ho loved getting you like this, so lost in how good he could take care of you. He smirked as he listened to your minimum efforts to conceal your moans. Your tightly sealed lips didn’t stop any NSWF noises.

Just a not began to form inside of you, a knock at the door and an unaware voice greeted you, “Y/n L/n! It’s time for your nightly dorm room inspection,”.

“Shit!” You mumbled as Min Ho gently placed you on the ground before scurrying off into your bedroom to find a hiding spot. “One moment please!” You replied, kicking your’s and Min Ho’s clothes under your couch.

Hurriedly, you grabbed one of your appropriately sized coats to conceal your naked body. You quickly yanked the door open which startled the more senior student who stood at your door.

“Hello,” you nodded as you raked a hand through your potentially messy hair. “Please come in, sorry about the mess,” you say with an embarrassed smile.

Whenever Min Ho was over while inspections took place, you always held your breath for the worst outcomes. Min Ho usually hid in your closet, behind your suitcases and other articles of clothing that could easily conceal his frame.

As the inspector searched the unit half interestedly, you acted as calm as possible. Your attention slightly wavered as you reminisced how Minho was fucking you just mere moment ago.

What caught your attention was the creaking of your closet door being opened. Your eyes widened as the student stepped inside and left your gaze for a moment just before stepping back out.

“Y/n,” they said, to which your ears perked up anxiously, “Make sure to have the light bulb in your closet changed, it seems to almost be out,” they explained.

“Of course,” you nodded assuringly, the breath you were holding in dissipate as they made their way to the front door.

“Thank you for your time,” they said politely as you unlocked and opened the door for them.

“Anytime,” you waved before the shutting the door again.

You shedded your coat and made your way back into the bedroom, were a naked Min Ho laid. He wordlessly motioned for you to join him.

Right as you crawled onto the bed, Min Ho immediately had you under him. Both of you wearing a smug grin on your lips.

“Where were we?” He said before leaning down to kiss you.

You ran your hands through his perfectly cut hair while his kisses began to trace your jaw, your neck, and started to leave love bites alone your collarbone. He pulled away and watched as your chest rose and fell exaggeratedly. Your completely naked body yearned for his touch.

With your eyes focused heavily on Min Ho, you watched as he stroked his cock. The groans that erupted from his lips were like music to your ears. As he climbed back on top of you, he lifted and spread your legs farther apart. His length inching closer and closer to your pussy.

Your breathing hitched as you felt him slide into your walls with full force, a loud moan escaping your mouth. Min Ho placed his mouth on yours as an attempt to stifle your noises.

But it became harder to remain silent as he continuously rammed his cock into your cunt. The wet sound of you taking his dick so good only made Min Ho fuck you rougher.

“You better stay quiet,” Min Ho muttered, “Or else everyone will find out how damn good I am at fucking you,” he smirked, watching your eyes roll back. “Taking it so easy, huh?”

You could only muster a groan as the pit in your stomach returned. Min Ho loved the feeling of your walls tightening as you got close to climaxing.

“Gonna cum for me?” he asked, knowing full well that any further response from you would be at max volume. “Come on my dick Y/n,” he ordered.

Min Ho spared no space between the two of you began slamming his dick so deep inside your pussy. Your back arched, allowing his dick to repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

“That’s it,” he said, as your body began to quiver and your warm cum covered his length. He slowed down momentarily, allowing you to feel the high. “Was that good?” he asked as you caught your breath.

“Yeah but what about you?” you questioned unknowingly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with your pussy yet,” Min Ho huffed before meeting a proper pace.

You tiredly watched as he used your cunt, telling you how good are for him. He loves showering his affections towards you after making you come, knowing that only he gets you like that.

As the rhythm of his thrusts began to stutter, you felt his cock twitch slightly. Min Ho hesitantly gave a few more thrusts before quickly pulling out.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his cum covered your lower abdomen.

Grabbing a couple tissues from your nightstand, Min Ho gave you a proper wipe down before laying down beside you.

“Our little secret?” You asked, raising your pinky.

JAN 2025

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut…  but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!!  (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

“You don’t have a favorite color.”

“I… don’t, no.”

“But you’re quite partial to green.”

“I guess so—?”

“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”

“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”

Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.

You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.

–

You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish. 

And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward. 

"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence. 

(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.) 

A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.

“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”

“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies. 

The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.

“How much older?”

“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”

“Hm. You two are close?”

You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”

“Ah. Good.”

“... Yeah.” 

You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful. 

_

It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated. 

There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it. 

You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.

… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though. 

“You know how to play the violin.”

You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.

“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”

“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”

You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”

“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”

You freeze.

“…”

“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose. 

“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”

_

The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could; piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely. 

And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that? 

You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head. 

“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”

Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything; you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts left unspoken. 

“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand. 

Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”

And that was the end of it.

You tell yourself it’s exhausting – the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny. 

So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.

––––

He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out – not without giving him a slightly suspicious look. 

“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”

Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”

“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”

He shrugs. “If it helps.”

_

You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines. 

It’s not the first time he’s done it. 

But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest, the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same. 

Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again. 

Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—

“Sweetie?” 

You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.

Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready. 

After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–

So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop. 

It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—

listens. 

-

-

-

You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.

“That helped, didn’t it?”

If it were anyone else – or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now – you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.

But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable. 

You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.

I helped.

Tell me I did.

“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”

For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.

“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”

And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.

____

You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like. 

The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.

He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.

You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.

____

One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.

“Just an operation gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”

You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).

You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”

Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.

“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.

I won’t let you.

Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”

It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.

And I do. You have no idea.

____

There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.

“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”

You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.

He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”

Well. That.

Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.

It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.

And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?

Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.

When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart. 

You're quite partial to one in particular. 

My love.

____

“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”

You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk. 

____

You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.

So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.

Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other. 

You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist. 

The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb? 

Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”

It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions. 

It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this – just like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried away by the wind some days. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror. 

Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction. 

But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.

And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters. 

There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—

You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.

And if he did… Well.

“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”

“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”

“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.

Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.

“It’s– I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.” 

There. 

He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?” 

You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.

But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.

Of course he understands. He always does.

He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding. 

“Show me.” Trust me.

And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—

… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic. 

It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

There's a deafening silence. 

The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable. 

And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces: a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”

The flesh does not define you. 

Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

You—

“Look at me.”

A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless; like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice. 

—are all. And that is all there is to be. 

“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”

And like a marionette on a string, you obey. 

-

Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his. 

Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.

Carnal desire. In its purest form. 

Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured. 

A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.

“You’d like to know what I think?”

Yes.

No?

He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”

You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.

Sylus opens his mouth. 

You brace yourself for the inevitable.

-

-

-

A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again. 

____

Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.

It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically, your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head. 

The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.

The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating. 

You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat. Maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows. 

You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.

You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs. 

God, but you do.

Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend?? 

(Something more?) 

The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating. 

So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat. 

It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though; it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical. 

But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying. 

Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour. 

You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation. 

But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.

So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think. 

Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.

You pause on a Toji smut fic – one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance. 

Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t–

…

Your phone glitches. 

The Chrome app crashes.

And what do you think you’re doing?

Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing. 

You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.

Put on your headphones.

You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?

The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.

Now.

You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands. 

The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own – straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off. 

“Sy-Sy–” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I–I don’t—”

"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"

The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely. 

You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…

“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears your sweet moans spill so sinfully from those lips.”

His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”

A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.

“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”

You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.

“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”

His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.

“But it’s never for me, is it?”

“I–I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume–”

“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”

He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”

You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.  

“Do you understand?”

Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.

“Words, poppet.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”

____

“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?” 

You attempt to close your legs, shame rising in you like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.

“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”

The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler. Coaxing. “It’s just me.”

His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it. 

The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction; part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.

You give in.

Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission. It's surrender.

Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It's neither soft nor kind, but triumphant. Like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”

____

Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.

You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh– don’t piss me off.”

You hear a resounding chuckle. 

Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”

You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify. 

“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.

____

It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.

 

Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.

“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”

The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to. 

When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air. 

“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”

There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards. 

The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.

This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.

A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.

“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.

And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.

____

The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots – it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air. 

Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.

She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times; leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.

“You mind if I bum one?”

She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.

“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.

“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before. 

You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.

The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.

And then, unexpectedly:

“You look happy.”

The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.  

“You ‘ave someone?”

You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.

“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiles at that; easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.” 

There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”

You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden. 

And for once, you don’t mind being seen.

____

The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages. 

As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of stone-cold stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure. 

So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.

“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”

He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.

UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are. 

Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603. 

You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all. 

Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.

With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets. 

“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 

You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.

The notifications hit you, and you see texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.

Sylus. Of course.

The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message – ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned. 

The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—

Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.

Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze: 

How are you feeling? Did you just get back?

“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!” 

The words slips out as a frustrated cry.

Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.

His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be. 

A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?” 

How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?

The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts – your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly – you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness. 

“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.

You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.

You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.

You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged in your throat. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic. 

And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.

Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid. Unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”

Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”

A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.

It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.

You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.

“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”

____

This is a life

(Every possibility)

Free from destiny 

(I choose you, and you choose me) 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Close to You - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer is needy and Reader has a work deadline to meet, so they try something new as a compromise.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: me writing another cockwarming fic? it’s more likely than you’d think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (no mommy kink this time cuz this feels more mild as far as the sub/dom dynamic goes, maybe next time!)

TW: sub!spencer, softdom!reader, cockwarming, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, creampie, afab reader

Rating: R/18+ (oops all smut)

——

The blue light of your computer screen was starting to make your eyes hurt, the hours of completed paperwork in your rearview feeling like nothing compared to the digital mountain of remaining work for your proposal you still had to complete by the deadline your boss had given you. Working from home certainly had its perks, but right now the only thing you could think of was how much more focused you’d be if you were still in an office.

“How’s work going?” Spencer’s voice broke your train of thought as he turned the corner into your home office.

“It’s fine, I still have a lot to get done.” You sighed, continuing to type away on your keyboard.

“You know, I was reading an article the other day about studies being conducted that explore the long term effects the extended work hours work-from-home jobs require have on the average adult, it went pretty in-depth on how psychologists suspect the lack of separation between work and the home environment can negatively affect the way we prioritize professional work with personal tasks and quality time.” You could tell your boy-wonder was using his vast knowledge to pick an article with a topic that was a bit too on the nose to beat around the bush of his point, but you didn’t know why.

“That’s very interesting Spencer, but why bring that up when you know I can’t stop working?” You questioned, calling his bluff.

“We haven’t had sex in 2 weeks.” He mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. You knew that, and it was driving you crazy just as much as it was him, but this project was major and if you wanted to get the promotion you had been working so hard to get, you had to set your personal needs aside for a bit.

“I’ll make it up to you once I finish this, I promise.” You weren’t lying, your accidental celibacy had stretched your imagination to some very interesting places, and you couldn’t wait to try those new things with him, but it had to wait, no matter how touch-starved you felt.

“I want you.” He almost whined, taking a couple steps further into your peripheral vision.

“Spencer, you know I need to get this project completed before my deadline tomorrow, I don’t have time for this.”

“But I need…help.” His words were drawn out, his hushed tone piquing your interest. You pushed your chair out, craning your neck to make eye contact with him before his gaze dipped lower and yours followed. The fabric of his pajama pants was pulled taut over his bulge, his fidgeting hands barely restricting your view despite his attempt to hide the evidence of his arousal behind them.

“Oh baby, that must hurt, huh?” You sighed, giving him a sympathetic look before turning back to your work.

“It does, I need you.” He pleaded, coming up behind you to rest his hands on your shoulders.

“You need to take care of it yourself.” Your statement came out more blunt than you intended and a hint of guilt started to pang in your chest, the stress of this deadline was starting to get to you and you didn’t mean to take it out on him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy, but I already tried and I just made it worse, you feel so much better than my hand does.” He over-explained, continuing to plead his case as his fingers started kneading the sore muscles atop your shoulders.

You mulled over your options, the concept of his admittedly impressive cock filling your neglected cunt sounding all-too appealing in the moment. You knew you couldn’t take the time to fuck him right now, after no sex for two weeks your carnal urges would absolutely take over and you’d wind up ignoring your work for the rest of the night, to the detriment of your employment status. You were about to send him away when an idea popped into your head, something that could be a good compromise to both of your predicaments if done correctly.

“Drop your pants.” You bluntly stated, beginning to stand from your chair. He followed your instruction, a bit confused but too excited to question, always eager to please you. You also stripped from the waist down, ignoring the growing slick between your thighs.

“Sit down.” Came your next instruction, your eyes fixed on his erection, his head blushed pink and dripping with precum. When he was situated you climbed back onto the chair with him, positioning your knees on the suede fabric on either side of his thighs, hips hovering over his member. You reached down, fingers wrapping around his length as you positioned his head at your dripping entrance, reveling in the first sexual contact the two of you had experienced in far too long.

You slowly sank down, your warm walls engulfing his throbbing cock until you were seated fully on his lap, the fullness giving you a sense of satisfaction. Spencer’s breathy sighs and white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were, but you knew he would want more any second. You on the other hand were always better at controlling your desires, even just this level of intimacy enough to satiate you for the moment.

You relaxed into him, back pressed to his chest as you began your work once again, ignoring the dull ache in your core.

“A-are you going to move?” Spencer’s desperate voice broke the silence after a few minutes of you typing away at your computer.

“No. This is all I have time to give you right now. If you’re a good boy and stay still for me, I’ll let you do whatever you want tonight.” You were curious to see how well he’d do with this. Even though Spencer prided himself on being the smartest in the room at any given time, he wasn’t very good at controlling his urges and it amused you how his composure could disappear if he was desperate enough, particularly around you.

“Okay.” He breathed, seeing the muscles in his arms relax and the grip he held on the chair loosen out of the corner of your eye.

You continued your work, busting your ass to complete your project as quickly as possible. Every once and awhile you’d flex your kegel muscles, your walls contracting around his cock to keep him as hard as possible, teasing him to see how hard you could push his patience.

You grew closer to your last tasks, the end finally in sight when you felt him start to shift under you, hips attempting to thrust up into you. You anchored your hips, holding him down to not break your focus. He let out the most pathetic whine you’d ever heard, running his hand through his hair out of frustration.

“If you move again, you won’t cum tonight. I’m almost done, do not distract me again.” You told him sternly, rocking your hips back one time as an incentive.

“Understood.” He groaned, thighs relaxing beneath you.

You wrapped up the last paragraph of your proposal, satisfied with the work you had done. You could feel Spencer tense when you closed out of the last application and shut off the computer, screen darkening and leaving the two of you bathed in the golden glow of sunset in an otherwise dark room. Instead of finishing him there, you rose off of him, leaving him groaning in desperation.

His cock was covered in your slick, veins throbbing and head almost purple from how desperate he was to cum. You started walking out of the room, finger motioning for him to follow you and he almost tripped over the chair, trailing in your shadow. You found the bedroom, stripping out of your remaining clothing while contemplating what position you wanted him in. Your thighs were starting to burn from sitting in the position you had held for so long, so you opted for good old-fashioned missionary. You laid down on the bed, thighs spread as Spencer pulled off his shirt and waited for your instruction.

“Come here.” The words had barely left your lips and Spencer was already on the end of the bed, crawling up to you like an animal on the prowl.

“Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?” You asked, drawing out his torture just a little while longer.

“Yes please, need to feel your perfect cunt again.” He begged, looking down at you with his big brown eyes.

“Go ahead, but don’t cum until I say so.” You instructed, your hand finding the nape of his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. He moaned, positioning himself at your entrance before thrusting fully into you, his gaze locked on the way your breasts bounced with each desperate thrust into your warm cunt.

His pace remained steady, pounding into you, your pleasure slowly building but not quite hitting the spot you needed him to. You wrapped your legs around his hips, angling your hips up ever so slightly and you couldn’t help but cry out, his cock finally hitting the soft spot inside of you that you’d been craving. He dropped his head into your shoulder, bringing his hand to your pussy to rub firm swipes over your clit, clearly desperately trying to make you cum so he could.

“So close, I don’t know how much longer I can last.” He panted, hips faltering slightly.

“It’s okay baby, don’t stop.” You moaned, too close to care about being firm with him anymore after how good he’d been for you today.

His thrusts became increasingly desperate, driving into you at a pace that had you seeing stars, the combined pressure on your clit sending you over the edge in a blur of white hot ecstasy.

“Spencer!” You cried out, nails digging into his back as you rode out your orgasm, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, hips stuttering and you could tell he was almost there, but something was holding him back.

“Cum inside me.”

Your request was all he needed to hear, not having to worry about pulling out anymore allowing all of his focus to finally come undone, hot ropes of cum filling your aching cunt. He pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with his head on your chest, long legs almost dangling off the side of the bed. You laid there spent, gently running your fingers through his hair until you both caught your breath.

“Thank you.” He spoke, lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“There's no need to thank me Spence, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. You were right about overworking, I’ll try to delegate a bit more.” You sighed.

“I just don’t want you to overwork yourself, you deserve to enjoy yourself more often.” He leaned up to pull you into a kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist as you finally got a moment to relax for the first time in weeks.

——

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[puppym3]

୨⎯ "temptation" ⎯୧

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bangchan x fem!reader

a result of the poll win! (cockwarming w chan)

summary: after waking up and realizing your boyfriend isn't next to you, you find him still working in his office. after asking him to join you in bed and his many refusals, you try convince him to join you.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, established relationship, pet names (princess, baby, good girl, love), piv, unprotected sex, cockwarming (obvi), teasing, creampie, soft dom chan, chan is a workaholic, reader is needy, aftercare; (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: the poll was super close!! so i'm gonna post another poll that should be on my page now if you want to vote for the next one! i hope i didn't disappoint with this one;;; hope you enjoy reading!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

I felt the faint glow of the moonlight spread across my face from the cracks in the curtain. I stirred, my fingers brushing against the cool silk sheets where my boyfriend should be. The coldness of his absence was an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—2:00 AM.

I sat up, the chill of the night air sending shivers down my spine. Wrapping myself in the blanket, I slipped out of bed, my bare feet meeting the cold floor. I lazily threw on one of Chan’s shirts and slithered out of the bedroom.

As I moved through the hallway, I knew exactly where I was going to find him at this hour. My gaze fell on the closed door of his office. The faintest sliver of light seeped out from underneath it. I sighed, approaching the door and gently pushing it open.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of his screen casting a pale light over his face. Chan was hunched over his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen. Papers and notebooks were scattered around him, and a half-empty cup of coffee sitting right next to his laptop.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him work. His brows were furrowed in concentration, a small crease forming on his forehead. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry.

“Babe?” I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't look up, too engrossed in whatever he was working on. I padded over to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind, resting my cheek against his head.

“Hmm?” he responded, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

“It's 2 AM,” I murmured, nuzzling his hair. “Why are you still working?”

“I have a lot of work,” he sighed, not sounding very convincing.

“But you can finish it in the morning, right?” I pressed, my voice tired.

“I just want to get it done,” he mumbled, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

“Chan, come on,” I pleaded, “You need to rest.”

“I can’t,” he groaned, leaning back against me. “I need to get this done.”

I sighed, feeling his warmth seep through my shirt.

"Come on, babe," I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of annoyance and playfulness. "I'm cold and I need your warmth to sleep."

He didn't respond, still lost in his work. I let out a small huff, a hint of irritation creeping into my voice.

"Baby, please," I pleaded, "I miss you and I can't sleep without you."

When he still didn’t budge, I decided to change tactics. Giving up on trying to pull him away, I slid onto his lap, straddling him. I pressed myself close, trying to make it impossible for him to ignore me.

His breath hitched at the sudden contact, and his hands faltered. I smirked to myself, knowing that I had gotten his attention.

"What are you doing, love?" he breathed, finally looking at me.

Chan's eyes dropped to my legs, and his gaze lingered on the expanse of skin visible beneath the hem of his shirt. I could sense his attention, his focus snapping back to me like a rubber band. His fingers tightened around my waist, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as he realized I was only wearing his shirt. The fabric was thin, and I knew he could feel the heat of my skin through it.

"Wha- Why are you wearing that?" he asked, his voice sounding strained

"I'm cold," I replied, my tone light and teasing. "And I thought it would be cozy to wear your shirt."

I leaned in close, brushing my lips against his ear. "Besides," I whispered, "It makes me feel a little bit closer to you."

I could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain his focus on the screen. His hands slowly slid up my sides, tracing the contours of my body under his shirt. My heart raced as I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his neck.

"Chan," I whispered, my voice low and sultry. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of my stomach, sending shivers down my spine.

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before finally looking up at me. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with a mix of desire and reluctance.

"I can’t stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I have so much work to do."

"I know," I replied, my voice trembling slightly.

But I was too far gone, so needy for him, feeling his half-hard bulge pressing against me. I shifted slightly on his lap, rubbing against him slowly and deliberately.

Chan’s breathing grew uneven, and his gaze flickered between the screen and me, struggling to maintain his composure. The more I rubbed, the more his resolve weakened. He tried to focus on his work, but his concentration faltered with every brush of my body against his.

"You’re going to kill me," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he shifted slightly against me. His fingers trembled on the keyboard, his attention divided between the screen and the intense need pulsing through him.

I could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard press of his bulge making his struggle clear. His eyes were dark with desire, and I knew I had him where I wanted. I rubbed against him with increasing insistence.

"Channie," I whispered, my voice laced with desperation.

I continued to grind against him, feeling his erection grow beneath me. His fingers dug into my hips, and I could sense the heat building between us. I let out a soft moan, my body aching for more.

His breath was warm against my skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing my neck. "God, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse. The sensation sent a jolt of desire through me, and I whimpered, feeling my need grow stronger.

He let out a low groan as he slipped his fingers underneath my panties, teasing me. I could feel the slickness between my legs, my arousal intensifying. "You're so wet already," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You need this, don’t you?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "I need you," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He smiled, slipping his hand into my panties and rubbing slow circles around my clit. I moaned, my head falling back as his fingers slid into me. He continued to tease, sliding in and out at a torturous pace.

I rocked my hips, craving more friction, but he pulled away, his touch barely ghosting over my skin. "Chan, please," I whimpered, my voice shaking.

Leaning in close, his lips brushed my ear. "What is it, baby?"

"Please," I begged, my voice cracking. "I need you in me."

He smirked as my hand reached for the zipper on his pants. "And I need to work," he replied, his tone firm.

My hand paused on the zipper, his heated gaze locking with mine. "You’ll have to be a bit more patient, my love," he said, a teasing note in his voice.

"I’ll be a good girl," I promised, my voice quivering.

"Mmm... we’ll see about that," he murmured, his tone skeptical yet intrigued.

I continued to unzip his pants slowly, revealing his throbbing erection. The sight of him made me shiver with anticipation. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking gently.

He hissed in pleasure, his hands tightening around my waist. "Fuck," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine.

I kept up the slow, deliberate strokes, savoring his reactions. His breathing grew labored, and he bit his lip, struggling to maintain control. "Such a needy girl," he whispered, his voice strained.

Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his ear. "I’m your needy slut," I murmured, my voice dripping with lust.

He groaned as his hands slid up my thighs, pulling my panties down. "God, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against my neck.

He guided his cock to my entrance, rubbing the tip against me. My legs trembled as I slowly sank onto his length, feeling him stretch me open. "Oh fuck," I gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation.

He gripped my hips, pulling me down fully. I rocked my hips, grinding against him, and he groaned, his hands tightening on my waist.

I bit my lip, reveling in the fullness of him inside me. I rolled my hips, savoring the pleasure. His fingers dug into my skin, and the pressure on my clit sent waves of ecstasy through me.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice rough. "Stay still for me. Let me finish this work so I can take care of you properly."

I whimpered, my body aching for release, but I stayed still, feeling completely stretched, waiting for him to finish.

He began typing away, his gaze fixed intently on the screen. I tried to control my breathing, the heat building between us making me dizzy. The sensation of his length throbbing inside me was almost too much to bear.

I bit my lip, feeling every slight movement sending ripples of pleasure through me. He glanced at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Don’t do that," he warned, his voice low and husky.

I felt myself instinctively clench around him again. "I’m trying," I breathed, my voice strained.

The pressure of him inside me was becoming almost too much. I closed my eyes, resting my head against his chest and trying to relax. I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against my cheek. The rhythm was comforting, and I slowly began to regain my composure.

I took a deep breath, my body still aching with desire, but I focused on the feeling of his body against mine, his warmth seeping into me. Chan continued to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

I concentrated on his touch, the heat of his skin against mine. The feeling of him inside me was soothing, and I gradually started to relax. Chan’s pace at the keyboard increased as he worked through whatever he was writing.

I closed my eyes, the steady clacking of keys lulling me into a sleepy haze. I felt myself drifting off, the warmth of his body enveloping me. I nestled closer, my arms wrapped around him, losing track of time in a dreamlike state.

Suddenly, I felt a jolt of pleasure as he shifted slightly. I gasped, my eyes fluttering open, immediately aware of his throbbing cock inside me. I tightened involuntarily from the sudden surge of pleasure and let out a soft moan.

I bit my lip, struggling to keep my reaction in check. Chan paused, glancing down at me with a smirk. "I thought you were asleep," he murmured.

"I was," I whispered, my voice trembling with a trace of sleepiness.

"I guess I’ll have to take care of you now," he replied, his voice tinged with sweetness.

Chan closed his laptop, scooping me up from under my thighs and carrying me. His hard length still inside me, standing now, I felt fuller with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

He carried us to the bedroom, each step causing me to stifle whimpers on his shoulder. He laid me gently on the bed, hovering over me with his arms on either side of my head. I gazed up at him, my eyes wide with adoration.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"I love you too, princess," he replied, his eyes softening.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. The kiss started soft but soon turned heated, our need for each other spilling over.

I moaned as he rocked his hips, grinding against me. His cock was still buried deep inside me, filling me completely. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting more.

"You waited patiently for me?" he asked, pulling out completely, the tip lightly rubbing against my entrance.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice trembling.

"Good girl," he murmured, slowly pushing back into me. I gasped as he filled me, the sensation almost too much to bear. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles turning white from the intensity.

He began thrusting in and out, picking up the pace. I cried out, my body arching as waves of pleasure washed over me. His hands explored every inch of my body, touching me in ways only he could. I shivered under his touch, his fingers finding all the spots that made me moan.

My eyes fluttered shut as I lost myself in the pleasure. The feeling of him inside me, the way he moved, was overwhelming. I felt like I was floating on a cloud, my body aching with need.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice strained. "You’re so tight. I thought I stretched you well, hm?"

"Y-you did," I whimpered, my voice breaking under the intensity.

"So what’s going on, huh? Are you that needy for my cock?"

Heat surged to my cheeks, making me feel vulnerable under his gaze. I tried to come up with a response, but all that escaped was a breathy moan.

"I-I don't know," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Oh, so you just wanted me to fill you up, hm?"

"Yes," I breathed, my mind hazy with pleasure.

He thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made me cry out. I gasped, clutching his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Is this what you needed, princess?"

"Yes," I moaned, arching my back, my nails digging into his skin.

He groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck. Picking up the pace, he drove into me with relentless abandon. The room was filled with the symphony of our moans and the sound of our bodies meeting in passionate rhythm.

The pressure inside me built up, the pleasure so intense I could barely breathe. He held me close, his arms wrapped around me as he moved inside me. The heat between us was palpable, our bodies intertwined as we approached our climax.

I moaned his name, feeling the wave of pleasure crest. My body tensed, the sensations coursing through me, and I cried out, my nails digging deeper into his shoulders.

He growled, his grip tightening around me. His thrusts grew more frantic, each movement pushing him closer to his own release.

"You feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough with desire.

I gasped, my body shuddering with aftershocks. The feeling of him inside me, the heat of his body against mine, was almost too overwhelming to endure.

He moaned deeply, his voice husky as he came inside me. His thrusts became more urgent, his body tensing as he rode out his climax. The sensation of him filling me completely sent me spiraling, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably.

Once we both caught our breath, he slowly withdrew, his face reflecting a hint of panic when he saw his cum dripping from me. He quickly looked around for something to clean up before it got on the bed.

Returning with a towel, he gently wiped me clean, the soft fabric sending shivers through my overstimulated body. He made sure every drop was taken care of, his touch tender and attentive.

"Baby, was that okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"I’m perfect," I murmured, smiling up at him with a sense of contentment.

"Thank you for being patient," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

The sleepiness from our intense moment began to catch up with me, my eyelids growing heavy.

"Channie, I’m tired," I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

He smiled warmly, shaking his head fondly. "I bet you are," he said, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me toward the bathroom.

"You always do this," I grumbled, a playful pout on my lips.

"Do what, princess?"

"Make me so sleepy after sex."

He chuckled softly, setting me down on the edge of the tub. "You wanted this, remember?"

"Yeah," I sighed, leaning against him as he started running my bath.

"Now, get in the bath and let me take care of you, hm?"

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taglist!

@stanskzot8 , @loverbangchan

[strwbabydoll]

The Feeling Came Late (I’m Still Glad I Met You)

pairings: grumpy!college student! Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 2/? (wc: 3.4k)

masterlist

001 | 01 | 02

- - - -

Chapter 2: Surprise, Surprise

Harry wakes up to the sound of his phone dinging and he grumbles as he sits up and stretches. He looks around and stops his tired gaze at the small window next to his bed. It's dark with just a hint of sunlight beginning to cut through the glass windows, this is definitely not the scenery he's used to when he awakes from his slumber. Groggily he grabs his phone with one hand and rubs his left eye with the other, turns on the phone and hisses as he squints. 

He quickly turns the brightness of the screen down to a manageable setting and mumbles under his breath when he sees it's a little past six in the morning. 

"Who the fuck is awake right now and why are they trying to talk to me. Someone better be fucking dying." The message is from an unknown number, the numbers staring at him tauntingly. 

///

Unknown: hey. it's y/n. i got your number from principal Oscar. lmk whenever works best for you and i'll do my best to arrange my schedule otherwise! :)

— — — 

He grumbles once more about the timing of the text and stares at the screen trying to think of an appropriate response. He could and absolutely wants to just leave her on read and never talk to her again. That seems like the most appropriate since she interrupted his sleep, why is she even up this early? But maybe he should show a sliver of compassion and reply to the text briefly before going back to sleep. 

He decides on not texting back, simply because all this thinking of replying, responses and times is making his head hurt, so he sets his phone back onto the small wooden table beside his bed and clambers back into the warm cocoon of his blankets. Wrapping himself  in the thick blanket, he sighs blissfully as his head relaxes into the soft cushiony bed. He begins to close his eyes and go back to sleep, the pleasant warm feeling of sleep very quickly approaching him. 

Just as soon as he gets comfortable and almost falls asleep, his phone dings once more. He grumbles as he throws the blanket off of him and grabs his phone once again. The same numbers teasing him as another text comes through. 

///

Unknown: this is harry right? i'm so sorry if this isn't! 

////

He rolls his eyes as he mumbles, his fingers typing away on the keyboard as he sends his response. 

Harry: Yes, it's me. In case you haven't noticed, it's five in the morning. I was asleep.

///

He gets a response almost immediately, as if she was staying in the chat waiting for a response.

Unknown: yes i know! why are you still sleep? i like to get my day started early!

Harry: Because no one in their right mind is up this early.

Unknown: sorry for waking you! just wanted to see what times and days work best for you. :)

Harry: Give me a couple hours.

Unknown: okay! have a good nap! :)

— — — 

He mumbles again as he sets his phone grumpily back on the table, wrapping himself back into his blanket just to find it's not as warm anymore. He mutters under his breath, silently complaining about her up so early and choosing to annoy him so early as well, and to top it off she made him lose the warmth of his blankets. He wraps himself up in the blanket and lays back down, resting his head on the soft pillow as he closes his eyes. 

Opening his eyes once more a couple hours later, he gets up and stretches once again. The muscles in his back pops smoothly and he groans softly. He gets out of his bed and quickly makes his bed,  wrinkles sit in the middle of the blanket as he sets his pillow on top, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels much better after getting another couple hours of sleep. 

He heads into the bathroom and relieves his bladder, sighing in relief as it empties. Shutting the lid down, he flushes the toilet and heads to the sink so he can wash his hands. After he's finished, he brushes his hair and puts it in a man bun.

Walking over to the small dresser where he keeps his clothes, he opens his needed drawers and pulls out an outfit. Settling on a white Rolling Stones t-shirt and some black skinny jeans, he gets dressed and makes sure he puts on his signature rings. Once he's done with that, he sprays his Tom Ford cologne and grabs his phone, responding to the very few notifications he does have and stares at Y/N's name in his message list. 

Her simple text stares at him, somehow politely demanding a response from a couple hours ago. He huffs and mutters 'fucks sake' under his breath as he clicks on it and begins to type out his response.

///

Harry: I'm available anytime

/// 

Not too long after, just long enough for him to set his phone in his pocket and slip on his brown Chelsea boots, his phone dings. 

///

Y/N: okay! um how about tomorrow around 6 at the library?

— — — 

Harry laughs dryly at her enthusiasm as he sends a plain thumbs up, the yellow emoji a stark contrast in the very one sided text conversation, and afterwards he heads out the small bedroom in his dorm and heads to the front door. He passes the various pictures of his roommate and his girlfriend and a couple of pictures showcasing his orange kitten, Delilah, in various moments. She was wrapped up in a soft towel from the day Harry brought her home, and other moments where he thought she looked pretty and decided to capture the moment. 

All the pictures are neatly hung in a long cardboard frame, colorful tacks adding a pop of color to the otherwise boring wall of pictures. The small hallway leads to a basic living room, a simple gray futon sits alongside the cream colored wall with a modern artistic sketch hanging above it, a dark brown bookshelf holding all their movies and the very few books and textbooks they happen to own is placed next to the futon, and a small dresser underneath a decently sized tv. 

In the corner of the living room area sits a small gray cat bed and Delilah lays there peacefully sleeping in a little ball, her tail twitching occasionally. The ends of Harry's lips begin to curl upwards at the sight as he slowly walks over to the small dresser designated just for her. He silently opens the top drawer and opens the small can containing her food. The smell quickly floods his nose and he grimaces as he walks over to her food bowl and pouring it in there, silently gagging as it squelches into the bowl. 

He throws away the now empty can in the small trash can and grabs her water bowl walking over to the dresser once again and fills it with a small water bottle sitting in the top drawer. He sets it down beside the food one carefully because he doesn't feel like cleaning up water right now and walks back to the dresser. He opens the second one and grabs a few of her favorite toys and sets them under the coffee table in the living room, allowing her something to do while he's gone and turns on the tv. Quickly pulling up her favorite tv show - Animal Planet - he walks over to her and very gently rubs the top of her head. He coos at her softly to coax the sleepy kitten awake. 

Delilah stretches and yawns as she opens her eyes, focusing on Harry crouching above her, she lets out a tired but happy meow as she nuzzles her face into Harry's hand. 

"Good morning, sweet girl. I gotta get to school but you got everything set up for you, just how you like. I love you and I'll be back soon." He says with a small laugh as he gives the small kitten a couple extra pets and gets back up, stretching slightly as he heads to the door, making sure to grab his signature leather jacket from the futon as he opens the door and heads out. 

— — — 

It doesn't take him long to head to the campus thanks to his dorm being a short drive from the campus. He parks his car in an empty space nearest the school and he sits in the car after he turns it off. He watches her as she walks to the bike rack, her long hair flowing gently behind her as she walks due to the wind blowing. She's dressed in an olive green sweater and dark blue Levi pants that flare at the end, she'd pair it with some white Nike Air Forces, a medium sized white tote bag and a matching olive green thin belt, he can see the small shimmer of her jewelry shine when the sun hits it as she ties her bike to the small rack. 

He turns the key to shut off his car and opens the door, slowly stepping outside the car as he puts on his jacket. He closes the door with a soft slam and locks it, the beep alerting the girl as she turns around, her hair briefly swishing in front of her face as she turns. He watches as she frowns in anticipation of a snarky remark but returns to normal when it doesn't happen. He slowly makes his way to the entrance, purposely avoiding eye contact with her as he grows closer. He hopes she gets the hint to leave him the hell alone, and wants to keep their interactions to an absolute minimum. 

"Hey!" He hears her voice ring out from behind her but his pace doesn't falter, he actually starts walking just a tad bit faster in an attempt to get inside before she reaches him. He makes it to the top of the steps before he feels a soft hand grip his shoulder and a tug, signaling him to turn around. He slowly turns around, face deadpanned and he takes a deep breath. 

"What?" 

"Any place specific you want to meet in the library?" She asks softly and he shakes his head as he turns around swiftly and starts his journey into the school once again. He can feel her presence behind him and his frown begins to form. 

He chooses to ignore her as they walk, the chatter of the other students in the hall filling their ears as they continue. One of Harry's friends, Alex, walks up to Harry with a big smile as he pays his shoulder and glares at Y/N. 

"How you doin' Haz?" He asks and Harry's frown only deepens at the unwanted conversation. 

"Not now Alex." He shakes his head as he heads to his locker. He can hear Alex scoff as he walks away but he can still feel her presence behind him. 

He scoffs lightly as he gets to his locker, one ringed hand reaching up to twist the little knob to the correct numbers and opens the door. He quickly grabs a textbook and slams it shut and he walks away, leaving a hurt and confused Y/N standing at the locker. 

— — — 

She can't help but frown at Harry's more than usual grumpy behavior as she heads to her own locker, true enough she was the main reason why he's so grumpy but honestly how was she to know he’d still be sleeping? It’s not her fault that she just loves helping people! She should know better than to assume they'd be friends simply because she's tutoring him, but she assumed they'd at least be better than this. She hoped he would be somewhat tolerable, a very silly thought of hers because when is he ever tolerable? She doesn’t know how it came to be this way. She can remember a time where the two of them were cordial and even dared to say the best of friends, but then something changed and she wishes she knew what it was.

She wishes she could just go back in time and watch the two of them under a microscope to see what went wrong, to figure out why he hates her. She misses him terribly, but that’s kept locked away in a box of her feelings and emotions never to be seen again alongside her favorite childhood memories. 

She huffs in frustration when she can't get the lock to open, her combination not seeming to work as she twists and twists. She swears it's the right one, so she tries once more and she's met with once again the lock not opening. 

"Come on!" She huffs as she stares at the lock intently. Beginning to think that maybe she changed the lock combination, she tries a different sequence of the same numbers and after a couple of tries she finally hears the satisfying click as the lock opens. 

She quickly grabs the textbooks for her first two classes and shuts it gently as she walks to her first class, her tote bag gently bouncing off her hip as she walks. She just barely makes it to her first class before the teacher closes the door, her hand pushing on the tall wooden door as she cries out 'wait please!' The door opens and she sees the teacher smile softly as he lets her in. 

"Just in time Y/N, have a seat." He says and she nods silently, with her head down she quietly makes her way over to an empty seat towards the back of the class. Grabbing her notebook and a pen out of her bag, she begins to write down the title of the notes she's gonna be taking and pulls her assignment due from the front of the notebook as well. 

— — — 

Time seems to fly in front of her eyes, the day taking not nearly as long as it usually feels like as she gets released from her last class of the day. With a smile on her face, she plugs her earbuds in her phone as she walks through the halls, stopping briefly to answer any questions from her classmates and to wave goodbye to her teachers. 

She spots Harry talking to a pretty brunette, one of more popular girls who also happens to be on the cheerleading team she thinks, her lips pulled back into a dazzling smile as she twirls her hair around her finger as she speaks. Hesitantly, she makes her way over and taps him on the shoulder, meekly saying 'excuse me' and she's greeted with a very nasty glare from the girl. 

"Um, we're talking." The girl says with a frown on her face. Y/N can't help the flush of embarrassment that begins to heat her cheeks up as she looks down. 

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to remind Harry of the library. It's at six, if you can't make it or gonna be late, just let me know." Y/N's voice comes out quietly as she speaks, her hands subconsciously moving to her front as she begins to play with her fingers. 

Harry lets out a very unenthusiastic 'uh huh' as his eyes never leave the brunette's and he begins to talk to her once more, completely ignoring the other girl behind him as the brunette smirks and plays with the collar of his t-shirt. When she realizes that he isn't paying attention, she frowns slightly before making her way out of the school building as music plays in her ears. 

She mumbles curses to Harry under her breath as she unties her bike and sets the cord in her bag. Hopping on her bike, she begins her ride back to her apartment. She smiles as she passes the cars and families out and about, their joy and love radiating off of them making her smile and aw. As she continues biking, she makes a quick stop at her favorite flower shop, propping her bike against the side of the store and she quickly walks in. The smell of all the flowers welcome her warmly as well as the bright smile of the lady standing behind the counter. 

"Y/N! So good to see you! How've you been?" She asks and Y/N smiles as she walks up to the counter. 

"Hi Tameka! I'm good, how are you?" Y/N asks and Tameka responds with great enthusiasm as she starts telling the younger girl about her kids and how the store's been getting along. 

Y/N loves coming to this flower shop because no matter how long she stays away, she's always greeted with a warm welcome, one that reminds her of her mother at a young age. The shop gives her a sense of family no matter what happens, and she's never been more grateful. After Tameka finishes rambling on about her life, she turns her attention to the younger girl as she props her head onto folded manicured hands and flashes her a warm smile. 

"Here to get the usuals? Anything new to update me on chica?" Y/N shakes her head with a small laugh as she leans on the counter. 

"Of course, you know I never stray. And no new updates unless you count having to tutor the boy who seems to hate my existence an update." She says and sighs, the thought of having to do so is a big damper on her happiness and a heavy weight on her heart — it’s not that she doesn’t want to tutor him, she just knows that it’ll be like pulling teeth with him. She’ll have to pry answers out of him and will more than likely be the worst tutoring session ever, she’ll be exhausted afterwards. 

She can't help but to wonder how it'll go, will he be the same as he is in school? Is he gonna spend the whole time mocking her and poking fun (he most definitely will, she’s sure of it. He won’t turn down an opportunity to annoy her and get under her skin), or will he be kind and listen to her (maybe in another universe, some alternate reality where they’re cordial. She’s silly to even think this was a suggestion, she should know him by now), asking questions whenever he's confused? Will the session end in a screaming match as he tests her limits or will it be calm as he complies and agrees to her help. 

As she pays for her flowers, she can't help but to ask herself those questions. She knows wondering won't help determine the outcome of the coming day, but she knows there's only one way to find out.

She makes her way home, her bouquet of flowers sitting neatly in her tote bag as she rides along. She takes pleasure in the feeling of the wind brushing against her skin and flowing through her hair as she pedals along. The sound of people chatting on the sidewalks and the sound of cars whirring by her and honking at others fill her ear and she just smiles. She enjoys the sound of her community while others might say that it’s too loud and there’s no peace in all of the noise, she says otherwise. She can’t imagine her city in silence, to not listen to the usual sound because it’s all she knows. 

She makes it home and parks her bike beside her apartment, tying it up and making it inside the building. She heads down the short hall and to her door, unlocking it and walks inside and smiles at the sereneness of her own space. She locks the door behind her and sits down on the couch with her notebook and her favorite pen, thinking of the best way to carry out these sessions with Harry. What would be the best approach and everything to do with it. She wants to make sure that he understands that she’s not going to allow him to just walk all over her and cheat his way through. 

She wants to actually help him, not just give him what he wants; she wants to give him what he needs and what he needs is someone to take time out of their day and work with him, cater the worksheets and lessons to how he learns best so he can actually learn the information. She can only hope for the best as she begins to write out a plan for the next few weeks, she just knows that she’s going to need all the luck dealing with Harry.

[katamari-of-luv]

Every new Spamton Sweepstakes page I've found so far:

(Spoilers if you want to find them for yourself! If I missed something, feel free to add on!)

Clicking the "What's next?" link at the bottom of the main page takes you to /chapter3/, which simply reads "Not applicable." and has an ellipsis for a page title. UPDATE: Holding down the left arrow on your keyboard on this page causes the word "But..." to slide in from the right side of the screen.

Manually inputting /chapter1/ yields the same result (notably without the "But..." -- thank you rollingdanielle for pointing this out), while /chapter2/ reads "Applicable." instead. /chapter4/ has a red pixel slowly fade in at the center of the screen. Clicking that takes you to /chapter4/message/, which appears the same at first glance but actually contains several hidden links under the red pixel:

These link to one of two different six-second audio files: e.mp3 ("fading in" sound effect?) and m.mp3 ("fading out"?). I would love to hear it if anyone else finds a way to translate the "message". The placements of e's and m's don't appear to coincide with either binary or Morse code, but I could very well have missed something. Perhaps something Wingdings-related but I'm only a third of the way done with writing this post and that would be my fifth time pausing to puzzle out this one page. Maybe later.

UPDATE: HOLY SHIT. This comes from convobreaker on Bluesky's very informative thread. The layout of the audio file links correspond to a QWERTY keyboard, and the m.mp3 links match up to letters that can be unscrambled to spell /chapter4/thankyou/. The page is titled "How long did it take her to smile?" and presents you with two boxes to input text and a button to confirm. Pressing it with nothing in either box or anything but a valid email address in the first displays the text "Unknown contact." Pressing it with only a valid email address in the first box gives you the hint "She never smiled?" Filling the first box with an email address and the second with anything at all replaces everything with text reading "Thank you." Presumably the correct answer will send you a response.

On that note, /chapter5/ (titled "back") sends you here:

1 is unclickable, 2 takes you to d.mp3, a six-second drum and organ loop (that I could swear I've heard before-- can anyone identify it?) (UPDATE: Thank you to vividviolence and rollingdanielle! It plays before fighting Berdly for the second and final time in the Snowgrave or Weird Route, and may imply the "Applicable/Not Applicable" text refers to whether a Weird Route is possible in a given chapter.), 3 leads to ma.mp3, a warbling sound effect that fades out towards the end, 4 takes you back to /chapter4/, and 5 is h.mp3, a short acoustic guitar-like clip. It seems like manually inputting any "chapter" pages past 5 only takes you to room-dogcheck (they don't redirect, just display the little white dog).

Upon returning to the main page, clicking the "glitches and secrets Web Ring" banner, and continuing through to the /egg/ page via the "clues" link, a new link can be found embedded in the words "secret cats". /rain/ is another of Noelle's private journal entries, regarding the time she invited Catti over to play a "sillyriffic" Cat Petters minigame together. As per usual, she reminisces on seeing things in video games nobody else is able to replicate (but suspects Kris of knowing about it this time?) The "try it yourself" text leads to a playable version of this minigame at /rarecats/. The green dancing cats bouncing around the screen award points when clicked in accordance with the rarity scale on /rain/. An "angel wing" cat causes a stained glass window to appear onscreen and fade after a few seconds. Clicking that in time brings you to /windows/, a page titled "Aren't you forgetting something?" containing many instances of the same window sprite repeated over and over.

Each window links to a different combination of the same six words. Every page except one brings you to /room-dogcheck/. The correct combination, /lostwheretheforestwouldgrow/, leads to a page titled "ROOTS" which displays a blue tree that slowly floats up and down. It plays a single somber piano note the first three times it's clicked, then sends you back to /windows/.

UPDATE: Thank you to theyloy for tipping me off to this! Clicking the tree three times actually takes you to /window/ with no S. All the windows but one are now scrambled versions of the phrase /thepoorchildren/. Clicking and dragging to "draw" on this page, titled "Therapy", for long enough eventually reveals the red tree the man who gives you eggs hides behind, and clicking that links back to /egg/.

And last but not least, there's a new clickable area in /ramb/. The red desk at the front of the swanky, inviting green room now leads to /romb/, a silent set of wooden doors with the page title "No one will shed a tear for him." Clicking on them plays a door-opening sound effect and causes the screen to go black for a moment, then this text appears:

The text cannot be highlighted, and clicking either of the empty spaces plays the ma.mp3 sound effect associated with Chapter 3 via the /chapter4/message/ page discussed earlier in the post. This is wholly conjecture, but it may be of note that the spaces appear to be the right size to contain the word "egg".

UPDATE: Thank you once again to rollingdanielle! After clicking the door, but before the text appears, you can ctrl+A to click an invisible button floating around the screen. Doing so changes the page title to "You can never defeat us!!! Let's rumble!", plays ma.mp3, and then redirects to /chapter3/. This text could possibly be used in the Lanino and Elnina fight, as the speaker refers to fighting alongside at least one other person and "rumble" could be a pun on thunderstorms.

With that, I've listed off everything I know! Again, you're welcome to reply or reblog with anything I may have missed. Just one more month and Deltarune will be Tomorrow...

[kimmie2me]

Dynamite and His Player 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Twitch Gamer!Bakugou x AFAB!Reader

.....

Bakugou glances over at the camera, brows furrowed as he adjusts his headset. "Alright, you extras, get ready to shut the hell up," he growls, his voice laced with annoyance. "She’s real. I’ve got her right here, and she’s playing with me tonight."

You laugh off-screen, causing his chat to explode with reactions. Up until now, they didn't believe a word Bakugou said when he claimed he had a girlfriend. After all, this is the guy known for his explosive reactions when things go slightly wrong. He grumbles, trying to keep his cool, but the slight blush on his cheeks gives him away.

The game loads up, some horror-puzzle co-op that requires a ton of coordination. But while Bakugou’s all business—focused on solving puzzles and surviving—you have other ideas. You’re busy teasing him, wandering off to explore the map, or purposely messing up just to get a rise out of him.

"Can you just—dammit! Will you STOP wandering off?" Bakugou snaps as he watches your character take another detour. "We’re supposed to be working together!"

You grin at the screen, purposely moving your character in circles. "Aw, come on, Suki~ We’re just having fun, right?"

His jaw clenches, and he mutters something under his breath about "not having fun if you keep screwing around." But his viewers are eating it up, laughing at his frustration and flooding the chat with comments like "She's brave for messing with him, LMAO😭😭" and "Bros .4 seconds away from exploding his monitor for the 10 millionth time🪦"

Eventually, he just huffs, slouching in his chair and mumbling, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I’ll just wait here." His expression says he's beyond annoyed, but the hint of a smile peeking through his scowl gives away that maybe, just maybe, he's actually having a little fun too.

Grumpy Twitch Gamer Bakugou Headcanons

...

— Every time he messes up, he narrows his eyes at the camera with that “are you stupid?” glare. Chat spams "IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!” and "WHY R U LOOKING AT US LIKE WE DID THAT??" but he just huffs, “If you idiots weren’t DISTRACTING me…”

— Bakugou’s streaming style is brutally honest—constantly throwing out curses like it’s second nature. If he dies in-game, his go-to is, “How the hell am I supposed to win with this garbage game?!” and he never blames himself, ever.

— He has zero chill. Every so often, he’ll pound the desk so hard that the camera shakes, and one time he punched his mic so fiercely that it cut out, leaving chat in hysterics as he tries to fix it, muttering about “this piece of crap gear.”

— After every gaming session, he gives a review of the game he’s playing—most of which devolve into full-on rants about terrible controls, stupid enemies, and “whoever the hell designed these levels.” At this point, it's an entire essay by the time he's done.

— There are moments when he hits the mute button just to scream or cuss off-mic. Chat sees him red-faced and mouthing words, knowing he’s losing it, which makes them spam laugh emotes to annoy him further.

— Sometimes, when things get really bad, he just simply says "Okay." and goes quiet, leaning in close to the screen with this intense focus. Chat knows that if he’s silent, it’s only because he’s plotting to obliterate whatever got him killed.

— It’s become a running joke with his followers—every time he streams, they place bets on which piece of his equipment he’ll break. He’s replaced his keyboard three times already and had to upgrade his camera stand because he broke the last one during a particularly heated rage quit.

— When he finally beats a level, he acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See? Wasn’t even hard, you just have to not be a dumbass.” Cue the smug smirk.

— Occasionally, in his absolute rage, he’ll end the stream immediately after a loss. One second he’s there, screaming at the game, and then—stream offline.

— Despite all the rage, he’s actually insanely good at gaming. When he goes on a winning streak, chat blows up with admiration, but he barely acknowledges it. “’Course I won—who the hell do you think I am?”

— He has zero patience for backseat gamers. “Oh, you think you could do better? Why don’t you go start your own damn channel, then!” The mods know by now to instantly time out anyone who even hints at suggesting how he should play, and the ban count is astronomical by the end of each stream.

— Occasionally, Bakugou gets so into the game that he goes almost silent, and chat jokes it’s an ASMR session because all they can hear is his intense breathing and muttered curses. “Oi, STOP saying it’s ASMR, it’s not ASMR, you freaks!”

— Loading screens are his worst enemy. Every single time, he glares directly into the camera, arms crossed and seething, ranting about the “stupid long loading times” and how he could’ve “beat the damn game twice by now.” and how "a whole child could've been born by now." Chat watches in suspense because they know the rage is simmering, just waiting to explode.

— If he’s playing a console game, the controller does not have a safe future. He’s thrown it across the room, slammed it on his knee or desk, and even threatened it like, “You’re next, you little piece of shit, keep messing up on me.” He’s gone through so many controllers that his sponsor had to send him extras.

— When he loses in a PvP game, he has 1,001 excuses. “Lag. Dumb luck. Exploiter. The devs nerfed my character, obviously.” If chat calls him out, he just scoffs, “You think that was my fault? Keep dreaming.” And the mods instantly clear out any “L” spam from chat because he’s already dangerously close to slamming his keyboard.

— His channel has special emotes for when he loses his temper—explosion icons, angry Bakugou faces, and even one of his own “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME?!” face. Chat spams these whenever he starts heating up, which only fuels his fire.

— His viewers love to try and provoke him. Someone will innocently say, “Hey Dynamight, I think you missed something back there,” and he’ll instantly pause, glare at the screen, and say, “I DIDN’T MISS ANYTHING, DUMBASS, WE'RE MOVING ON.” It’s like a game within the game for his followers. (He goes back to check right after.)

— “Easy mode?” he scoffs at the suggestion. “I’d rather throw myself into a fire than play on easy mode.” Even if he’s dying over and over, he’ll never, ever change the difficulty. Chat has tried for months to get him to switch, but he’s stubbornly loyal to “the only real mode” (aka Hard Mode, Nightmare mode or above).

— If he actually wins a match, he’s unbearable. He’ll sit there, grinning and basking in his victory, smirking at the camera with a smug, “And that, extras, is why I’m better than every single one of you.” Cue chat sarcastically clapping.

— He once had a bet with his mods that he’d try to do a stream without cursing or raging. He lasted five minutes before he exploded, screaming, “THIS GAME IS FUCKING RIGGED!” after an unexpected jump-scare. The mods were dying, and he banned half of them out of spite (they were unbanned five minutes later, but still).

— Every time he’s about to start a new game, he’s got this exaggerated, dramatic intro: “ALRIGHT, EXTRAS, prepare yourselves ‘cause we’re about to dominate the shit outta this game. And if I see anyone backseat gaming, you’re banned. Don’t even THINK about telling me what to do.”

— Every now and then, when he dies for the tenth time in a row, he just deadpans to the camera, “I swear to God, I’m deleting my channel after this.” Chat knows he’s bluffing, but they still spam crying emojis like “NOOO PLEASE DON’T” just to mess with him.

— Every so often, when he’s focused on a tough level, he’ll mutter something like, “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad, chat. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” and the comments absolutely blow up with hearts and “WE LOVE YOU, DYNAMIGHT.” He immediately goes red and yells, “Didn’t mean it, idiots!” but it’s too late.

— Once, he rage-quit a game so hard that his entire setup fell silent. He’d punched the desk, and the screen went black. Chat watched in shock as the stream just… cut off. The clip went viral, with an entire 30-minute compilation titled “Every time Dynamight destroyed his setup” He came back the next day, reacted to it, and you already know he gave the video a thumbs down and left a long hate comment.

— His mods convinced him to play a “relaxing, casual game” that was secretly full of jump scares. The first time it happened, he almost flipped his entire desk. He immediately banned half of his mods and told the rest they were “on thin ice.” Chat still laughs about it every time he plays a “cute” game.

[popp1n]

GHOSTING THE GOVERNMENT

|masterpost| ao3

Chap 1: A Not-so-Ghostly Getaway

Pt 2

It took about an hour of slow, methodical driving with the headlights off before they neared city limits. To little to no surprise, there was a GIW outpost masquerading as a toll station a couple hundred meters from the town's welcoming sign. Tucker initiated the cloaking device and turned off the camera interference for the time being. Danny and Sam tried their best to appear asleep as agreed upon a week earlier.

Jazz turned the headlights on before entering the outpost's line of sight. She cruised to a stop as she was flagged down by an attendant, and rolled down her window.

"Evening, ma'am," the attendant said, a forced smile stretched across his face. His eyes, however, were cold and sharp, darting into the darkened interior of the van. He wore a conspicuous version of the more standard GIW uniform, crisp and bright white, with a ecto-ray fastened to his wrist and a communicator clipped at his hip. "Just a routine check. Anything to declare?"

Jazz, ever the picture of innocent charm, offered a polite smile. "Just heading through to college out of state. No, nothing to declare, officer." She made sure her voice was light, casual, betraying no hint of the simmering tension within the vehicle.

The attendant leaned in slightly, his gaze lingering on the forms slumped in the back. "Long drive, huh? Your friends look dead to the world."

"They had an emotional rollercoaster of a day," Jazz improvised, trying to sound a little exasperated, a little amused. "Preemptive homesickness on top of graduating, you know how it is."

He straightened, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before the forced smile returned. "Alright then. Drive safe, ma'am." He waved her through.

Jazz gave a small nod and slowly pulled away, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. As soon as they were out of the outpost's immediate vicinity, Tucker disengaged the cloaking device and reinstated the camera interference, the hum of the systems a quiet comfort.

"Think they bought it?" Tucker whispered from the backseat, cracking his computer back open. "They let us through," Danny muttered, opening his eyes. "That's something."

Sam sat back up and looked at each of them before settling her sight on the nearest window, the city lights beginning to twinkle in the distance. "Too easy," she said, her brow furrowed. "He looked at us too long. And he didn't even ask for ID."

"That's not their usual MO," Tucker agreed, his fingers already flying over his keyboard. "They usually go for the full pat-down, search the vehicle, the whole nine yards." He paused, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "Wait a sec."

A series of rapid beeps and blips emanated from the device. "Sonar scan. There's an active low-frequency signal. Consistent, steady pulse."

Jazz tilted her head backwards, her eyes still on the road. "What does that mean?"

Danny's eyes narrowed. "It means they put a tracker on us. Probably when he was leaning in. Probably a magnetic one, stuck right to the undercarriage." He looked up, meeting Jazz's gaze. "They didn't just let us go. They let us go so they could follow us."

A collective groan filled the van. The easy escape had been an illusion.

Sam sighed, "We can't remove it immediately because that would draw attention." The rest hummed their agreement.

"Alright." Jazz said, taking upon that particular authoritative tone reserved for older siblings, "Here is what we are going to do. We are going to leave it be until we stop for gas. At that time, we will locate and detach the tracker."

"However," she continues, "We won't disable or destroy it until we find a scenario of probable cause. Wait until we reach a storm of some sort. If need be, I'll stop at a car wash before Jersey state lines."

"Sounds good," Danny huffed, mirroring the affirmative hums and sighs by his friends.

This quiet escape was quickly turning into a ghost of a chance at slipping away unnoticed, if they hadn't already.

<prev | next>

[faggotbeloved]

Failed Experiments | Scientist!Albert Wesker x M!Reader ~2-3k

Cw: porn with plot, obsessive wesker, sex pollen, dubcon (see sex pollen PLUS reader is threatened w a gun but is into it regardless), sub/brat wesker?, wesker is in love with reader, reader is not in love with wesker, nsfw, gun play if you squint, rushed prep, anal fingering, anal sex, belly bulge, creampie that reader didn't particularly want to give, aftercare included, angst at the end (?)

This work contains smut and is 18+. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

Day after day, your boss has been cagier and cagier. You'd run him his coffee (a Ph.D required for the application, and you still have to remember how he likes his coffee?), get an assignment, then get shooed out of his lab to work while leaving him alone. He started intercepting you before you could enter his lab, so you hadn't even seen inside it for a week now. When you remembered you'd forgotten the spare key to your locker in there last month, you decided to go in, grab it, and get out. Damn you for losing all your keys.

You're not sure why you thought it would be so easy.

Wesker was hunched over at his desk, piles of paper almost forming a wall beside him, muttering something about testing. You would have told him of your presence, but he hated being interrupted and you didn't want to face his wrath for crashing his train of thought. When you got to the counter where you distinctly recall putting the key, you found it missing. Suddenly, Wesker growled your name more clearly than his previous string of sentences and you spun around to face him, but you were surprised to see that his back was still turned and his muttering was continuing.

"No, damnit, oxytocin, not norepinephrine. You think I just want a quick fuck?" You heard Wesker hiss as he typed angrily on his keyboard. "Haven't talked to him in nine days, and all I've got to show for it is a glorified aphrodisiac. Need more subjects."

Since when had Wesker meddled with hormones? Virology was his strong suit, but endocrinology? You were more used to mutative viruses than SSRIs when working with Wesker. You crept closer behind him and found the key hanging on his lanyard, which was most certainly not a normal place for your locker's key to be. However, you decided against any form of stealing it, since the noise would alert Wesker of your presence and you didn't want to deal with that. As you made your way to the door, a loud chirp came from your belt, meaning you were being paged by Wesker.

Wesker flinched at the sound, spinning around in his chair to see you. He looked unusual; his sunglasses were replaced with blue-light glasses, his hair gel had weakened from his constant running his fingers through his hair and a few strands fell on his face, and his eyes were as intense as usual but held a hint of instability.

"You're not supposed to be in here unless I ask you to," Wesker snarled, standing up and striding to you with powerful steps. "What are you doing?" He asked as he grabbed the collar of your lab coat. He seemed to remember he was wearing glasses, and tore them off to appear more intimidating.

"Alright—Doctor Wesker, I was just trying to find the key to my locker I left in here," you replied, prying his hand off. Wesker had lost his cool with you many a time, and it gets less scary every time he chickens out on killing or firing you. "Have you seen it?"

"Why would I care about a locker key? I'm working on things of actual importance," Wesker deflected, but you knew damn well he knew where the key was.

You strolled away from him and approached his desk. "What were you paging me for? More rats?" You questioned as you observed the work on his computer.

"Get away from that!" Wesker snapped, grabbing your wrist and tossing you from his desk. "Yes. Find me more subjects, I need to tweak this formula," he huffed after a moment.

"We don't have any more Norwegian browns. You've been using them all," you retorted. "Looks like the rats you have there are fucking. Wait three or so weeks, you'll get a whole bunch of them."

You were used to his coldness since you'd worked closely with him for ages, but the tenseness in your boss's back was mildly alarming. Maybe he would actually kill you this time, you joked to yourself. He seemed on edge by your mention of his experiments, but curiosity really was eating away at you. "So what's your formula aiming to do? I'm not bad at endocrinology, and this seems harmless enough so I'm happy to participate."

"How would you know it has to do with hormones?" Wesker glared as he sat back down in his chair. "Separate those rats. Just wait for the gas to—" Wesker sat straight up in alarm as you just opened the door, exposing yourself to lungfuls of his yet-imperfect serum. "Are you incapable of listening to directions?" He shouted, storming over to close the tank before anything too bad happened. Unfortunately for you, a sickly sweet smell invaded your nose while Wesker, who'd inhaled accidentally, tasted it in his mouth.

──────────────────────

You felt your brain grow fuzzy and barely remembered to put the rats away before Wesker uttered a weak "fuck" and opened the tank yet again. "This," he murmured between breaths, "this is my gift to you. More to me. It's not finished—fuck," he wheezed, staggering away. Did it affect him more than you? "I used my DNA as a placeholder until I could get yours. It's targeting me."

Wesker slumped down into his chair, shucking off his lab coat as a sheen of sweat broke out across his face. He panted and looked at the ceiling pathetically, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow the saliva that had come up at the sight of you. "Come here. Come here, damnit!"

Your head in a trance, you hurried to his side and he enveloped you in a hug. "Don't you dare mention this after we're done," he hissed before burying his nose into your armpit and inhaling as deeply as he could. A keening whimper left his throat as your scent was all he could smell and taste and he moved his nose to your neck to smell there but then returned to your armpit where your musk was more potent.

"Wesker, what—fuck, what is that we breathed in?" You asked, snaking your fingers in his hair and enjoying the whine that escaped him as you tugged like he'd dreamed you would.

Wesker pressed a feverish kiss to your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, then your neck, throat, and repeated on the other side. "It's for you. You need to feel how I feel, to understand... it's not ready, but you already were exposed, darling, we can't waste it," he rambled. "It was supposed to be simple. Something to boost dopamine and serotonin and oxytocin when we were working together. Stimulate your brain, make it think you loved me and soon you really would."

"Wesker—" you tried to say, but he was too busy talking about his experiments to listen. "Wesker—" you tried again, but he still couldn't process it. It wasn't until a sharp pull on his hair that he looked back up at you, his pupils blown wide and nearly overtaking his debauched orange irises. "Wesker. Shut up and let me fuck you."

Wesker stopped dead in his tracks, his lip trembling as he processed your words. Did you love him? No. But that serum, whatever it was, made you unbelievably horny and Wesker was undoubtedly a good-looking guy. He'd take it for now, you were sure, but you'd have to deal with his feelings for you sooner or later. You chose later.

──────────────────────

Why did Wesker have lube in his desk? You weren't sure. But when he held a gun to your head demanding you finger him right there on the paperwork, with his legs over your shoulders and his tight hole right in plain sight, you couldn't resist. "Just two fingers. I want it to burn," Wesker groaned as he leaned back against the surface of the desk. His cock was an angry, twitching red and sticky with a mess of precum. He was sinfully pretty, but you resolved not to touch his dick until you were inside him, no matter how much that serum made you want to swallow him whole.

As your first finger swirled his entrance he choked out a gasp and his hips jutted forward. "Hurry!" He whined angrily as you took your sweet time in opening him up. His gun hand shook as you breached the rim, gasping once he felt a cold, lubed finger inside him. "There we go. Come on, halfway there, I want your cock," he babbled brainlessly.

When you didn't thrust the second in immediately afterwards, he growled and pressed the gun into your forehead. "Faster. I have things to—oh, fuck! Ha-ah, yes, thank you," he actually whimpered as you curled your finger right into his prostate.

"Still need to rush prep, or will you let me do this right?" You murmured in his ear while thrusting your finger, to which he moaned at the mixture of stimulation and your low timbre. "Put the gun down, Wesker. I'm fucking you either way, you don't need to threaten me."

Wesker nodded shakily, forgetting he had the gun in the first place, and leaned back while you slipped the second in, grinning sadistically as you watched a spurt of precum leak from his cock. Your head was buzzing with the lust that you were barely holding back just out of want to watch Wesker come undone. You sped up your fingers, hitting his prostate every time, until he was about to cum. Then, you abruptly removed your fingers and he growled.

"The hell are you doing?" He snapped as you drizzled lube your own cock. Once he realized what was happening, he propped himself up on his elbows to watch, grateful that he was superhuman and could flex without any resistance.

Once the head of your dick breached his hole, Wesker gripped his desk so hard he heard splinters. But you were slow, so painfully slow and he was already trying desperately to keep from orgasming. He tackled you, still spearing himself onto you, and landed you on the floor with your head cushioned carefully by his hand.

"Mmh, you're so much bigger than—ah!—than I thought," he murmured as he sank down on you. He'd already marveled at its look, and you had to push him off to fuck him instead of let him try to suck you off for the next fifteen minutes, but now that it was inside him...

When he encountered resistance halfway down your cock, he let out a pathetic sob-slash-moan and weakly tried to get to the base, but you gripped his hips. "Come on, you have more than enough in. Get up so I can—" you tried to say, then gasped as Wesker forced himself the rest of the way down. "Fuck, Wesker, you're so tight," you groaned as you helped him slowly develop a rhythm. He, however, ignored your help and began at a brutal pace, making the both of you arch and let out a string of moans and curses that mingled in the air. Damn his stupid superpowers.

"Ha-ah—christ, Wesker, slow down! Does that even feel good?" You gasped as he threw his head back and let out a manic laugh.

"Shut up—oh, god, I've wanted you like this for so long, ngh, we've got to do this again," he babbled with an uncharacteristic grin splitting his face. A grunt escaped his throat every time he slammed back down onto your pelvis, which was every second to half a second, what with his increased agility.

You grew annoyed with Wesker's impatience and flipped him over, starting at the same brutal speed but targeting his sweet spot. As you pistoned harshly, all he could do was moan your name and scrabble at the floor. All you cared about was your own release, but you pushed down on his stomach to feel your cock scrape his walls. "Feel that?" You panted. If he didn't have enhanced healing, he'd sure as shit have been bruised in the morning.

"Wesker, gonna cum," you warned. As you began to pull out, he clenched tight around you and wrapped his legs around your waist, forcing you to cum deep inside him. At the feeling of being filled, Wesker screamed (though if anyone heard, he'd kill them) out your name and spurted a heavy load of cum on your chest, dripping and pooling at his own pelvis.

You felt your head clear after you came and slowly moved to lie on the floor next to Wesker, still nestled inside him. "I'll clean up in just a bit," you promised hoarsely, "give me a minute."

──────────────────────

Wesker was more than happy to lie uselessly on the lab bed while you wiped down the scene. You thought you saw him stuffing your cum back into his dripping asshole, but you decided against calling him out. Soon, your mixed fluids from the floor were discarded in the trash and a warm wet towel dragged across Wesker's bare body. You gently dressed him as he murmured things you could hardly hear. "Wait, was—was I good?" He asked in a dazed voice.

You looked at him softly and noticed the aftereffects hit him hard; his hair gel had deteriorated completely, his eyes were low and adoring, and a weak frown stuck on his face. "Yeah. You were really good. Best I've had," you promised as you set his sunglasses and reading glasses beside him.

"Will you kiss me?" Wesker asked, avoiding eye contact. "Just once. You can pretend nothing happened tomorrow," he added. "I—I was doing the damn experiment so you would..."

You decided to kiss him; you're not sure why. He was your boss, he clearly had serious feelings for you, those feelings manifested negatively and obsessively, and you didn't reciprocate: all these were true. It was also true that he was hot, he was begging you so sweetly, and some part of you kinda liked the idea of stringing him along to see just how pathetic the proud head scientist could get in his affections before you decided to see where it could go.

Wesker let out a breathy, weak giggle into your mouth, grabbing your head to pull you closer. His smile could be felt, contagious through the kiss, yet when you pulled away, it faltered back into a bitter scowl.

Wesker pushed you away and stood up, brushing past you as he put his sunglasses on. Wesker swallowed before he spoke again, his voice colder than before. "You know, I really don't understand you. I'm a stellar sexual partner, I have wealth and power and strength you couldn't even dream of, and I'm set to start a new world order with me at its helm. Yet you still. won't. look at me. Metaphorically speaking," he mused aloud. "Clean yourself up and take the rest of the day off. Until further notice, you'll be serving as the lab rat for the..." he faltered as he couldn't think of what to call it.

"The love potion?" You guessed. Wesker shot a glare at your juvenile description but hummed out an affirmative. So your new job was to get hit with an aphrodisiac every day until someday it worked and you were chemically in love with Wesker. Oh, well. At least you weren't going to be doing grunt work. You could probably catch up on a book while you were at it.

"So, the sniffing from earlier—"

"Don't."

"I'm not! But I can't help but wondering..."

"Stop. Now."

"Was that why my locker key was on your lanyard? That's where I put gym clothes."

"I'm not talking about this."

┌───────────────────────┐

I write on mobile on tumblr so I'm not sure how many words I'm at. Anyways watching Aether's cinematic RE playthroughs and it's all I can think about right now 💔

Apologies if the mood and stuff is all over the place, i don't care to put much into something when the target audience is like 5 ants and a single dude in iowa LMAO. Wesker's probably not too in character but hey yk i really don't give a damn

Read my other Wesker works?

[pockystickupyour]

unfiltered, 18+

nerd!armin x reader, modern college au!

part 1 part 2 inspired by current fanart circulating on tt (yes he has a tongue piercing).

Warnings: Semi-public sex, vaginal sex, f!receiving oral, slight praise kink, switch (soft dom leaning) Armin, fingering, dry humping, breeding kink if you squint, biting, multiple orgasms

—————————————————————————

“Fancy seeing you here,” 

“In the college library by the manga section?” 

You hung your bag on the side of the nearest chair and took a seat. It was high time you sat down to study, actually study. Without mindlessy scrolling every 5 minutes, or turning a study session into an excuse to buy yourself a sweet treat. 

“In the college library on a Friday night. Isn’t there some party that Mikasa and Eren want to drag you out to tonight?”

Armin was splayed out on a yellow bean bag, computer in his lap with a wired earbud in, and a few piles of books on the floor beside him. If it wasn’t for his frantic typing, you’d assume that he was playing some game.

The crisp sound from his keyboard typing continued as he said, “Last time I didn’t really have anywhere else to go since it quite literally was at my house and this place was closed.”

He did pick a good place for peace and quiet. It was closed off enough to block out other people’s murmuring, but not to the point of accidentally being locked in overnight by the librarian.

”Well, I didn’t come to disturb or distract you. I have some catching up to do.” You reached into your bag and pulled out your course literature, way heavier than you remembered, as well as your laptop. 

“I don’t mind,” He said, not bothering to look up from his lap. ”Let me know if you need help with anything.”

His last comment brought you the comfort needed to clear up the momentary uncertainty that had started growing in your chest.

Whenever you sat down with genuine intention to study, it was relatively easy. You struggled with getting into the material, skimming your eyes over stacks, charts and graphs. Though once you were into it, it stuck. Glued to the forefront of your mind which was very much needed since you hadn’t been able to think of anything except how Armin looked under you, or the feeling of his piercing against your skin. 

Moments when you felt incredibly immersed in whatever economic blabber you jotted down, were easily interrupted by thoughts of him anytime he cleared his throat, hinting at the sound of his whimpers, or whenever he laughed and you caught a glimpse of the smooth silver sphere dancing in his mouth from your peripheral.

Of course, Armin appeared unaffected by your presence. He had both earbuds in and didn’t look up at you once or offer any of his candy. 

Despite not liking them because you felt like they could break your teeth, you’d accept any invitation to talk to him.

Your eyes fleeted between him and the stuff in front of you as you tried to come up with something to say. 

Reaching into your bag confirmed your suspicion, giving you incentive to ask, “Hey, you don't happen to have something to drink?”

”Sorry, did you need help?” He removed his earphones completely and half closed his computer. 

You waved your hand dismissively, slightly flustered by his sudden attention. “No, I forgot my water bottle and I was wondering if you had something to drink.” 

“Oh,” He pulled his bookbag into his lap and rummaged through it for a few seconds before pulling out a Gatorade and a half empty bottle of water. “I usually keep energy drinks for Eren but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I opened the water already.”

”It’s fine, I’m not really an energy-drink person,”  He got off the bean bag to hand you your drink of choice, untwisting the cap for you as he approached. 

You took a swig, pretending it had something in it that would ease off the tension in your body. Armin looked at you intently, surprise colouring his face while the mark on his button nose grew pinker. “What?”

”I was expecting you to hover it over your mouth or at least clean the top first,” 

“Why? I thought it was yours,” your brows furrowed in thought as you wondered if you’d interpreted him wrong. 

“It is, I drank half of it.” After holding your eyes he diverted his attention to your notes and laptop.

Clearly he saw something that piqued his interest as he moved behind you to oversee all material. “Is this econ?” 

“Unfortunately,” You placed the bottle down a little past the edge of the table before continuing, “I’m taking it for extra credit.”

“Eren did too. Somehow I ended up doing all of his assignments,” He noticed the video explanation paused on your screen. ”Hey, is that Mr Smith?”

“Sure is,” He moved his hand to click your mousepad but instead managed to knock the bottle over. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do that, wait, I’ll help you clean it up I’ve got tissues with me.” 

“It’s okay I promise,” To your luck, only a small amount of water made it out of the bottle since most of it had been emptied, however it was enough to coat your course literature book and leave wet patches on your clothes. 

Once Armin came back with the napkins he handed you half of them to dry yourself. “I think there’s a section over there with course literature like this one if I remember correctly. We can go and check, hopefully no one’s borrowed it yet,” 

He pointed to the left corner behind your table suggestively. From what you could see, he avoided looking at you as much as possible and made sure to walk ahead when he led you to the new section. 

“It should be here somewhere,” He adjusted his frames and scrunched his face as he tried to read the different labels on the shelves. 

“I thought we established that your glasses are fake,” you teased, waiting for that side of Armin to come out. 

“No, you established that.” He held a serious look while he kept searching, his hair occasionally getting in the way. “I’m far-sighted,” 

“Spend too much time looking at the screen instead of going outside?” 

“Spend too much time talking instead of looking for your book?” There it was. The Armin most people didn’t get to see was out of hiding. ”Looking at screen causes near-sightedness anyway,” 

You would’ve thought of a comeback had your eyes not landed on just what you were looking for. “I think I found it,” 

Armin walked over to you, double checking the cover as if he didn’t trust your word. You bent down to take it out right as Armin said, “Wait no I think it’s this one,” 

He tried to collect a book above and you grazed his front with your backside as you came back up. “Uh, here.” 

“Oh you were right. Thanks,” 

You didn’t say much else afterwards, the library was closing soon anyway and as much as you wanted to recreate what had happened at the party, Armin seemed too embarrassed to even make small talk. 

On the bright side it helped you finish up taking notes quicker and all that was left was to go over the material one last time and possibly watch one last explanation video. 

“What are you even doing over there?” He hadn’t bothered to put his earbuds in this time. 

“Reading manga.” 

“You’re reading manga on your computer while having the actual mangas next to you?” You asked, hopeful that it would keep the conversation going. 

“I like comparing online prints with physical copies. Sometimes they have different translations. These are perfect examples, wanna see?”

You made your way over to the red bean bag next to him, he dragged it closer before you sat down then picked up a volume from his pile. “Ever heard of Death Note?” 

“I know a thing or two,” You familiarised yourself with your new seat, wriggling around until you sat comfortably enough. 

Armin opened a new tab in a sea of old ones on his computer, quickly searching up a jumble of words that took you to images similar to the pages in front of you. Although the art was identical you did notice a difference in what was written in the speech bubbles. 

“There’s more, come I’ll show you,” 

The manga section of the library was more stacked than you thought. You wondered if they came in upon request by students like Armin.

He ran his slender fingers along the spine of different sets as he provided trivia on each of them. It all fell on deaf ears as you could only focus on how good those very same fingers felt inside of you. 

”Do you consider yourself a weeb?”

In an effort to pull your head out of the gutter you tried averting your stare elsewhere and attempted to study whatever series he was talking about.

”I prefer the term Otaku,” He spoke under his breath. 

“I hope you don’t go around telling people that…” At the bottom shelf you saw the manga version of your favourite anime. Kneeling down to get a better look you pulled it out to show Armin. “Wait, I didn't know they had this here!” 

When you gazed up at him he was looking away again, “Hey why do you keep acting weird? Is it because of what happened last time?” You got up so you could speak to him face to face, though he still managed to be above your eye level. 

“No,” the silence was deafening and it was obvious that you were the only ones left. 

”Armin.”

”Okay yes, but not in the way you think.” His ears burned the same way as when you’d noticed his tongue piercing for the first time. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. And then you came in wearing this,” 

He looked down at your cut out top, still having yet to fully dry, and your skirt that was just short enough to tease slivers of skin. “Which was fine until I could see the bra you’re wearing underneath,” 

You looked down at your shirt and noticed that the lace print was showing more than you thought. “I didn’t mean to look. But when you used my bottle like that right before bending over in front of me, as you did just now, I didn’t know how to react.”  

He stared into your eyes for a moment, like he was calculating something in his head simply by looking at you, then started to laugh. “Were you messing with me? Did you do all of that on purpose?”

”Huh?” Your confused look only appeared to amuse him more.

”Were you hoping that I would do this?” He placed a hand where your neck branched out into your shoulder while the other made home above your hip.

“Were you hoping I’d say,” Instead of pulling you closer, he took a step towards you, keeping you steady in his hold.

He hovered above your shoulder, fanning the exposed skin of your back as he spoke into the shell of your ear, tickling it with his piercing. “Please touch me.” 

He pulled himself off and looked at you with a sort of pleading in his eyes, puppy like and nearly causing your heart to burst as he anticipated your answer. “I’ll stop if you don’t tell me to keep going.”

You pulled him back in so that he hovered over your mouth. His eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, once slipping so far down that he possibly caught a glimpse of your cleavage, then asked “Can I kiss you?”

“Been waiting for you to ask,” the words almost didn’t have a chance to fully escape before he closed the gap between you. 

There was a certain urgency, yearning, in the way his lips moved and pulled at your own as he pushed your back against the shelves. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and you felt the cold metal swipe across the top. 

You placed your hands around his neck while one of his slithered its way up your top, running a warm hand across your stomach and chest.     

“Have you thought about me?” He slipped in between pants and candy-flavoured kisses, and you wondered if they were enough of an answer. “I’ve thought about you,” 

The hand above your hip trailed down between your legs and ran fingers softly up and down the plush of your thighs. “About touching you,”

His lips explored the side of your mouth and the edges of your jaw on their way to your throat. You could barely hold on to him as his one hand unclasped your bra while the other rubbed at your underwear.

”About feeling you, so tight around me I could just—“ 

The graze of your fingers caused him to whimper under his breath. Your hands went down his torso and stopped at his pants. He was already hard, making you want to unzip his pants even quicker. 

You tried to bite back your own moans and helped Armin remove your bra by tossing it on the floor beside you. “Armin, please I need you.”

You didn’t know exactly what you were pleading for, but once you’d shimmied out of your underwear, he took ahold of your leg and hooked his arm around it to lift it up. 

So eager and desperate to feel you he rubbed himself against you without having taken off his boxers, and despite his shallow thrusts, the friction was enough to stimulate you. “I swear I could come just like this,” 

You moved your hips in rhythm with his and tried your very best to be quiet, though the sound of the shelf moving was louder than any of you. “Help me take this off” 

A free hand and lifted your shirt up as you raised your hands in the air, gripping the wooden display behind you once it was off. “Shit, you feel so good and I’m not even inside yet,” 

He unhooked your leg and spun you around so that he could hit you from the back, this time without a clothing barrier as he bunched up your skirt. He pushed himself in slow and waited for you to bottom out before thrusting.

He held a hand on your chest, pinching and playing with your sensitive spots as he breathed against your neck. “You don’t mind if I go a little rougher right?” The sweetness in his tone would allow him to do whatever he wanted, be it your call. 

You could barely speak, shaking your head as permission was your only option. His grip on you was only getting tighter, much like your hold on him as he went back in after pulling out. He picked up the pace and your legs started to feel like they couldn’t hold you up much longer. 

Moans and groans morphed into one and it was harder to distinguish between the sounds both of you were making. “I’m gonna need you to be more quiet, okay? I’ll reward you real good for it,”

You nodded and felt his hand cover your mouth with his increasing strokes. He held himself close to the crook of your neck and used your shoulder to bite back sounds of his own. His piercing trailed along and sometimes rested coolly against your skin as his teeth sunk into it.

“Are you getting tired? Turn around for me,” You did as he said and he took each of your legs, one at a time, and wrapped them around his waist. 

“Is that alright? You’re gonna feel it in your stomach,” 

At first it was a little sloppy, but once you figured out a good position, he was back to doing most of the work. Like he’d predicted, you did feel it in your stomach, feel him, big and full. 

You grasped onto him as steadily as you could, while interlocking his lips with yours. Almost as if there was a magnetic pull between them. 

“Armin it feels so good I’m close,” you appreciated that he didn’t change his pace, only kept kissing you as deep as he could.

He playfully bit your lip as he ran a hand along the curvature of your back. You only had to move your hips once to get pushed over the edge. 

“My turn?” Armin’s glasses had begun to fog up, and the droplets on his forehead matched the flush of his chest. Once you’d finished riding out your high, he picked up the pace and thrusted into you in a manner that could grant you another. 

“Want me to fill you up or should I be nice and pull out?” 

Before you could respond he pulled out and this time got equal amounts of fluids on himself and you. It was impossible to deny how the tiny show of his abs looked good, flexed and veins flowing. 

“I can barely see right now,” he rubbed the cotton fabric of his t-shirt against his glasses, pulling them up towards the dim library light to identify any persisting streaks of dirt particles. 

”Nothing new,” 

“You won’t see anything but  stars once I’m done with you,” He said and readied himself to get down on his knees. “Just a little reward,”

He propped your leg over his shoulder and pushed up your skirt. “Can I?”

You nodded your head reluctantly but guided him with a hand tangled in his hair closer towards your center.

He kissed his way forward, pressing fluttery butterfly kisses against the heat of your skin. Before he could start you took a hold of his jaw, pulling his kiss swollen lip down, and admired the sight below you. 

“You’re so handsome and pretty at the same time,” 

The blush on his cheeks was made less visible as the library lights started going out, but you didn’t miss the smile forming on his lips as he placed a hand atop of yours. He gave you another peck, then his warm mouth save the metal ball, worked their way with you. 

Having been close only a few minutes prior, the curl of one finger was enough to have you about to coat the entirety of Armin’s face. “Armin, I'm close again!”

Maybe he didn’t hear, or he was too deep in it to stop, but the euphoric feeling building up at your core was reaching another high. His own moans sent vibrations through you which only helped. 

“Armin I’m—“ 

He removed his face but kept his fingers in, watching you ride them to come down. Feeling accomplished to say the least. “Was that a good reward?”

”The best.” You struggled out. 

“If you really wanna talk about the best, that manga behind you is literal peak!” The last light went out and it dawned on you that you’d overstayed your library welcome. Only a small desk light was lit in one of the privacy rooms in the corner. 

“Are we locked in here now?” Waves of pleasure suddenly turned into nerves of anxiety.

”Nah, sometimes I fill-in here as a part time job so my ID can open and close the entire library. Plus, I have an extra key.”

An exhale of pure relief was your body’s first response, your thoughts took a more curious route. “Does that mean that we have the whole place to ourselves?”

”Pretty much. Wanna go for round two?” 

[huntingcupid]

MULTO — J.Y

hindi na na-nanaginip hindi na ma-makagising pasindi na ng ilaw minumulto na 'ko ng damdamin ko ng damdamin ko 'di mo ba ako lilisanin? hindi pa ba sapat pagpapahirap sa 'kin?

⌗ YOONCHAE — fem!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, exes, crying, long distance relationship, lovers to strangers, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — 2 years had passed yet even as you see her succeeding you can't help but feel a twinge of sorrow, missing what you two used to be, what you could've been

⌗ CUPID — hihi multo means ghost by the way its a filipino song by cup of joe, its meaning is dealing with a person ypu loved dissappearing/growing distant, and how their presence haunts you, aka missing them

the café was quiet only the hum of the soft music playing from the TV was audible and the soft clicking of keyboards, you had chose this place to study

you weren't one to go to public places to read nor learn you preferred the comfort of your dorm yet for once maybe you wanted a challenge, it smelled heavenly in here as well and unlike other cafés whom have bitter or oversweet tasting matcha they had a pretty good one a perfect balance if you do say so yourself

after typing in the last few words of your essay, you stretched and unexpectedly looked at the tv, It was playing random kpop and western music, but somehow katseye was playing the song “touch” — you stared at it for a bit, and seeing yoonchae was something you didn’t want to do

yoonchae and you were highschool sweethearts, the two quiet nerdy girls in the back of the class giggling over stupid jokes and making silly doodles on each others notebooks — it all changed when yoonchae told you about her auditioning to a company named hybe

“wait, does that mean you're gonna leave me?” you murmur, you two sat in front of a convenience store sipping on hot instant ramen — “i- uhm i don't know y/n — but I'm not accepted yet! we can still stay together” yoonchae says trying to brighten up the mood her hands covering yours as she rubs her thumb across your palm

you nod, yet deep down you knew she already got accepted, yoonchae dreamed about being an idol, she would yap to you for hours on end, showing fancams of her favorite groups — smiling stupidly when seeing girls her age debuting

“yoon, you know I'll support you right? — it's okay if you leave it's for your dreams anyway” you mutter back looking into the youngers eyes seeing a hint of hesitation, you knew how much she loved you, how much she cared about you — you cared the same way, so if that meant letting her go you would do it with no problem, “but, i-” the Korean tried reasoning before you shake your head just smiling softly at her

“yoon, it's alright — if you need me I'm only one call away” you replied, at that moment yoonchaes shoulders weren't tense anymore and she looked rather calmer — “i love you” she says shyly blushing lightly, “i love you more dummy” you giggle

that month yoonchae started packing and buying random things to bring, sending random letters to her other friends and distant family — she started missing school and deleting her posts on social media which you knew was needed but some of the post was your memories with her,

"사랑 (love) i have to go tomorrow, can you help me get to the airport?” yoonchae asks over the phone — you smile to yourself but a twinge of sadness started spreading in you, “yes of course darling” you replied, yoonchae then talks about the place she was going to and how different it looked until you two fell asleep while on call

the morning of the youngers flight you wait outside her house, seeing her walk out with her life in two huge bags was something that definitely hurt and made you proud — she's growing up so quickly, you felt tears fall to your cheeks and immediately yoonchae comes running to you, “are you crying?, baby don't cry!” yoonchae murmurs hugging you tightly

her head on your shoulders as you let her vanilla perfume invade your senses — “mhm, I'm just happy seeing you be brave and grow so fast” you mutter back, her mom hugs you two and smile softly — the drive was short yet with yoonchaes hand over yours it felt like forever, you'd often steal glances at her seeing how happy she looked and excited she was made you the happiest woman ever

the car parked near the entrance and you helped the younger bring her bags in, it felt like time was moving so quickly

yoonchae started crying as she hugs her family and finally you, she murmurs a bunch of things talking about how nervous and worried she is yet you reassured her – it felt unreal that she was leaving alone, and you didn't want to cry, you didn't want to make her feel worse, so you smile through it and just waved her off

that very night you sobbed into your pillows already missing the girl, missing her hug, her jokes and her voice — you went through you favorite albums in your gallery, pictures of you two or just her — drawing, dancing, singing or going to the park

the first week you two learned how to get over the time difference and with her busy schedule, the second week you stopped calling reasoning that she needed to focus on her training, the third you two mutually agreed to stop talking — it hurt yet you knew it was for the best,

"its for the best right?" yoonchae asks almost hesistant her voice small and fragile, "it is yoonie, i love you okay?" you mutter back tears flowing to your face, yoonchae murmurs an i love you back before the call ended, the very last call you two had

you'd silently support her, voting for her every mission even making a fan account, when she debuted it felt like you also got your dream come true, after her debut you stopped watching her content and started focusing on yourself, studying and studying

you'd often stumble across old pictures and your texts with yoonchae and reminisce about what you two were, your classmates would ask if you two were still talking, you'll dodge the question and try to keep her name out of your mind yet when the nights too lonely, you'd relapse and think about her again

you blink and turn back to your laptop, biting your lip as you fight back your emotions, checking your essay one final time before packing up and leaving the café, yoonchae was and will always be the right person, yet you two met in the wrong time, fell in love at the wrong time — all you hope was for her to be happy, happy that her and your dreams were now accomplished, she'll always be in your mind, in your heart like a ghost haunting your everyday life, yet this ghost you didn't want to leave

wc: 1.1k words

hey erm i love yoonchae so this is literally the most angsty thing i can write for her oml

[kxsagi]

okay okay okay imagine

Nagi having a gf who's also good a gaming, but doesn't play as much as he does. He then suggests her to play a MOBA game so they can play together and she agrees because she's good at those

then weeks after that Nagi is hanging out in her apartment and brings up the game to her and she answers "too lazy to rank up because of how toxic the players are" and Nagi was like, aight bet I'll play it for you and rank you up

“𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)”

a/n: how do you guys have the best plot ideas??? also i had to do some research since i actually don’t play MOBA so let me know if there’s anything you want me to edit 😔

nagi had always known you were good at gaming, but he didn’t expect you to be that good at a MOBA, especially since you didn’t play as much as he did. 

when he first introduced the game to you, you had shrugged, downloaded it, and within minutes were breezing through the tutorial like it was nothing. then the two of you queued for your first real match together. 

nagi played his usual slow-paced yet calculated style, effortlessly farming in the lane while you took a more aggressive approach. the moment the enemy team made the mistake of stepping out of position, you pounced. 

“gank bot,” you called out, fingers moving swiftly across your keyboard. 

“mm.” nagi, playing a jungle role, took the hint and rotated to your lane. as expected, the enemy marksman and support didn’t react in time, and with a well-timed stun from you, he cleaned up the kills effortlessly. 

“nice,” he muttered, blinking as the words “double kill!” flashed across the screen. 

but just as you were about to respond, the chat exploded. 

[enemy mid]: lol jung diff, this nagi guy is so carried[enemy ADC]: cringe gank, imagine needing your boyfriend to help lmao 

you rolled your eyes and started typing. 

[you]: cry about it 

nagi chuckled at your response, but the toxicity didn’t stop. 

by the time the match ended, a decisive win for your team, half the chat was filled with insults, people blaming teammates, and even some directed at you. 

[enemy mid]: ofc a girl would play a busted character, no skill 

[enemy ADC]: go back to playing animal crossing, why are you even here? 

“yeah, this game’s definitely toxic,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “i don’t have the patience to rank up when it’s just a cesspool of people like this.” 

nagi hummed in understanding, his gaze lazily drifting to you. “aight, bet. i’ll rank you up.” 

you blinked at him. “you’re gonna grind my account?” 

“yeah.” he stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles. “you’re too good to be stuck in this rank ‘cause of annoying teammates. i’ll fix it.” 

you snorted. “that’s a lot of effort for someone who hates effort.” 

nagi just shrugged. “easier than watching you complain about it.” 

and with that, he got to work. 

𐙚 

at first, it was just one or two matches whenever he had time. you’d go make food, shower, or get distracted with another game, and when you came back, you’d see another win on your match history. 

[MVP - nagi (on your account)] 

he didn’t even bother responding to chat. every time a teammate flamed him, he just played even more flawlessly, shutting them up with his sheer skill. 

it quickly became a routine. nagi would be chilling at your apartment, stretched out on your bed or lounging on your gaming chair, controller in hand or fingers idly tapping at your keyboard. you’d glance over and see him casually dominating the game. 

“why are you playing jungle again?” you asked one night, peering over his shoulder. 

“less stress,” he replied, securing another objective while his teammates bickered in the chat. “can just carry without talking to anyone.” 

it was actually insane watching him work. he made the game look effortless, dismantling enemy teams while your rank climbed steadily. even when the inevitable toxicity crept in…  

[teammate 1]: stop kill stealing, jungle. trash. 

[teammate 2]: report jungle for not helping lane!

he didn’t even react. just another deep sigh, another quiet, “annoying,” before hard-carrying yet another game. 

at one point, you watched him take down three players alone after your teammates abandoned him. the moment he secured the final kill, an enemy typed: 

[enemy ADC]: bro who is this?? smurf??? 

nagi tilted his head slightly, exhaling a soft, “hmm.” 

“i should reply, ‘nah just my girlfriend’s account,’ huh?” he mused. 

you cackled. “do it.” 

he didn’t, but the idea clearly amused him. 

𐙚 

a few weeks later, you sat down at your PC, stretched your fingers, and blinked at your rank. 

“…wait, what?” 

you had been stuck in mid-tier rank before, but now? 

grandmaster. 

you turned in your chair, raising an eyebrow at nagi, who was lying on your bed, scrolling through his phone. “when did you do this?” 

he barely looked up. “dunno. while you were asleep, maybe?” 

you squinted at him, then back at your rank. 

“… damn.” you clicked through your match history. almost every game was a win. “you actually carried me all the way up?” 

“mm.” he yawned. “wasn’t that hard.” 

you stared at him for a long moment before shaking your head with a laugh. “you’re ridiculous.” 

finally, nagi lifted his gaze, his lazy expression softening into something almost smug. “now you don’t have an excuse not to play with me.” 

you smirked, cracking your knuckles. “guess i don’t.” 

and with that, the two of you queued up, this time, at the top. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Pt. 1

Next Pt. 2

!Warnings: angst, fake!texts, swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: I tried something new, I hope y'all like it :3

You and Chan had been dating for good 3 years now and just a few days ago it had been your anniversary and if anything, the past 3 years had been the best years of your life. You guys met when you were put in charge for one of Straykids's album and since then, the two of you grew really close. Of course Chan was a busy person, but he mad time for you whenever he could and never got mad at you for anything. Not even your clingy and sometimes overcaring personality, which had been a big problem in your previous relationships, bothered him. Or so you thought.

You were currently in the Kitchen of your apartment to make yourself breakfast. Chan stayed over last night to which you decieded, it would be for the best to sleep a little longer, and stay longer at work, even though you've still got to pack your things since you'll be moving soon.

You opened the fridge to get out some blueberries and other stuff, when you saw the Lunch made for Chan sitting in it, untouched.

You frowned and took your phone out, to notify him that you'll stop by at the studio to drop it off.

You let out a sigh and put your phone in your bag. I should just get over and drop it off, you thought to yourself and made your way down the hallway, between some boxes you've packed, while waiting for a reply the past hour. You stepped out the door, greeted by the shivering cold winter air and made your way to the studio, with your bag in one and chan's lunch in the other hand.

By the time you arrived at the building, you were freezing cold, mentally cursing yourself for not taking the car. You stepped inside the building, greeted by your co-workers. You gretted them back, making your way to the studio, knocking on the door once. No respond. You knocked twice. Again no respond. You decied to just let yourself in.

When you stepped in the room, you find a busy chan, howering over his Laptop, aggressivly clicking on his keyboard.

"Hey Babe, I texted you earlier but you didn't respond..you forgot your Lunch at my apartment, so I thought I'll bring it over" you said, and put the lunch next to him on his desk, with a smile on your face, which immediately dropped, when he just ignored you. You decided to shrug it off and came behind his chair, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"What are you working on?" No respond. "Chris do you hear what I say?" you ask and stare at him, but he just continues typing on his Lapotop. "Chris-" "Jesus fucking Christ Y/n, can't you just leave me alone?!" He bursted out and turned to you in his chair "But I-" you try to explain, just to be interrupted by him again "DON'T YOU GET THE HINT?!?" he yells, and you instantly stiff "Obviously I'm hearing what you say I'M NOT FUCKING DEAF OKAY?! I'm just ignoring you because I'm trying to have some alone time and do my fucking work without you constantly breathing down my neck!! Can't I just have like 5 minutes of alone time without your clingy ass being right here, next to me, like always asking me stupid questions and breakthing down my neck!?? And your overly caring personality is really getting too much, ever thought I left the Lunch there on purpose??? Or that I don't have time to constantly check my phone because I actually have work to do?????? Get you clingyness under control and LEAVE. ME. ALONE."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know if you should say something. You've never seen him like that. He sounded really mad, and you couldn't help but tremble and blinking your eyes so no tears could escape, but they did and didn't get unnoticed by Chan. "And here comes the river.." he sighed out and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You sobbed your cries in and turned around to leave, only mumbling out a weak "I'm sorry..." before rushing out of the room, running towards the exist, when you bump into Felix.

"Um Y/n is everything okay?" he asks, genuily worried but you just smile at him and nod, before hurrying to get home.

You just wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but you couldn't even do that because you had to pack you things.

It's so cruel.

Everything is so cruel.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[exorcqism]

﹆₊注意‧₊˚ PAY ATTENTION TO ME, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ your boyfriend has been on the game for the whole day. why not distract him a little? wc, 1.23K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. this idea had me giggling and kickin my feet. i’m back from my “break”. and did yall see the eclipse monday? it was mad pretty. also with gamer!choso, he strikes me as a destiny 2/valorant/overwatch player. hope ya enjoy the storyyyy. reblog to support meeee

␥ tags. gamer!choso, reader is getting bored watching choso play, smut, riding him while he plays his game, female anatomy, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

perched on the edge of the bed, you watched as your boyfriend choso raged and fumed at his teammates, their second loss in a single hour driving him to madness. his body was taut and rigid, every muscle coiled with tension as his nimble fingers flew across the keyboard, navigating the character with precision.

you sat there, wishing those hands were on you, exploring every inch of your body instead of his loadout before starting another round. the room was filled with the sound of clicking keys and expletives as if a storm was brewing within the small space.

your gaze remained fixated on the back of choso's head, tracing every strand of his obsidian hair that flowed from his low ponytail and clung to the pale skin of his neck.

the rest of his hair framed his face in a silken curtain, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and cheekbones. you couldn't help but study every minute detail, from the way strands danced in the breeze to the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.

the deafening roar of weapons firing and the frustrated mutterings of choso echoed through the air, seeming to last for an eternity before the match finally came to an end.

with a jubilant shout, choso leapt up from his seat, celebrating his team's victory with wild enthusiasm. your nostrils flared in annoyance and your shoulders slumped in disappointment, but then a spark of determination ignited in your mind as an idea popped into your head.

as you rose from the bed, the springs beneath it groaned in protest. choso was engrossed in his favorite game, his fingers moving deftly over the keyboard as he swiftly maneuvered the controls. you straddled him, feeling the creak of his chair as you settled onto his lap.

choso's smile widened as he glanced up at you, then quickly leaned in to kiss your head before returning his attention to the screen. A warm flush spread across your cheeks and your lips couldn't help but curve into a delighted grin.

"choso," you prodded playfully. "you've been playing valorant since we woke up…are you sure there isn't something else you’d rather do, something more fun?" the room was filled with the glow of the computer screen, but all you wanted was some time with your boyfriend and doing something more fun than sitting inside playing video games all day.

choso let out a heavy sigh, his brow furrowing as he spoke. "i know," he said, his deep voice carrying a hint of frustration. "but listen, baby, just a couple more games and i'll get off. we can do whatever you want, okay?"

his proposal sounded intriguing, but your impatience was growing with each passing second. without much thought, you agreed to choso's request and soon found yourself removing your shorts. he didn't even notice, too focused on claiming another victory in his game.

you took a moment to study the man before you. his grey joggers were neatly tied in a knot at his waist, emphasizing the noticeable bulge beneath the cloth. your gaze traveled up to meet his intense violet eyes, which sparkled with determination as he focused on the screen in front of him. it was the same look he gave you when he pounded into you after a stressful day, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

with furtive glances around the room, you leaned forward and gently tugged at the strings of his pants, slowly pulling down both his joggers and boxers. despite your efforts to be discreet, you couldn't help but marvel at the thought of being caught. choso seemed completely oblivious, not even paying you any mind.

once his pants were low enough for you to access, you carefully adjusted yourself onto his lap and positioned yourself above his erect shaft. as you made yourself comfortable, you couldn't help but smirk at how unaware he was. how could he not notice someone pulling his pants off or feel your drenched core pressing against him?

your slick coated his length as you dragged it teasingly against him, reveling in the knowledge that anyone would have noticed such blatant actions. but choso remained blissfully unaware, lost in his own thoughts as you took control of the situation.

choso was completely lost in his video game, the bright graphics and music consuming his senses. he barely noticed when you wrapped your arms around his body, pressing yourself closer and grinding against him, small whimpers escaping your lips. it wasn't until he felt your movements become more urgent that he snapped back to reality.

he let out a low groan as he tried to focus on both the game and the pleasure you were giving him. but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to do so. "fuck, couldn't you wait?" he strained, feeling his breath getting heavier as he rolled his hips back against yours. his vision started to blur as the sensations overtook him.

choso bit down on his lower lip, trying to hold onto his control as you moaned in his ear. "you were taking too long," you finally replied, panting slightly. the chair beneath you both creaked under your weight as your hips continued to grind against each other, the room filled with the sounds of the game and your shared desire.

as the game drew to a close, choso struggled to concentrate on finishing as your urgent movements pressed against him. the rhythm of your body, shifting from slow to fast, kept him on edge. your moans and cries drowned out the sounds of the game, overwhelming his senses.

tears glistened in your eyes, reflecting the intensity of your desire. choso's heart raced as he tried to keep up with your escalating passion. each touch and kiss was like a fire burning through his veins, igniting a deep desire within him. as the intensity grew, he found himself lost in the moment, completely consumed by you.

as the intensity grew, your mouth began to salivate, and drool escaped from your parted lips. the sensation of choso's body against yours was overwhelming, and you could feel him nearing his climax. your moans echoed in the room, mingling with his. your nails dug deeper into his back, leaving marks symbolizing this passionate moment.

just as choso reached his peak, so did you. warm liquid spurted from his tip and onto his chair and thigh, evidence of the pleasure he had experienced with you. during the aftermath, your fluids mingled with his, coating his now softened shaft. you put your head down on his shoulder, your breath hitting his skin as you tried to catch your breath.

you were about to move yourself off of choso but you felt his arm squeeze tightly around your waist. he kissed your neck and moved up to your ear. "you made me lose my game," he whispered, eyeing his computer screen that showed a death screen.

a mischievous smirk played at the corners of your lips as you looked at him, "well, i can't say i feel bad or whatever," you teased. "i think a little distraction was exactly what you needed." the air between the two of you crackled with energy as you waited for his response, ready to pounce with more playful banter. choso rolled his eyes.

“whatever. next time i’m locking you out,” choso grumbled, finally letting you get up.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[zolass]

Detectives Attraction Ch. 02 Top Male Reader x Male Yandere Harem

Decided to finish chapter 2 as well, because I'm not sure how much energy I'll have tomorrow. I hope that it doesn't feel rushed.

content warnings: a gun and breaking in. 1.2k words

Hours passed since M/n sat down and looked over the case files again, his once styled H/c hair was now disheveled by the many times he had run his hand through it in annoyance and frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose as tiredness settled in, but he can’t possibly stop now.

E/c eyes glanced at the empty glass, but he couldn’t drink more of it and keep going– the risk of overlooking important details was not worth it. At least not for M/n if he wanted to catch these people.

He stood up and stalked into the kitchen, deciding on something that would keep his stomach satisfied for a while. Just as M/n got everything he needed, he was interrupted by a ringtone from his phone, which he grabbed from his back pocket. The screen was lit up with a call of an unknown number, which made M/N frown, but he still picked it up, the only sound coming through was the typing of a keyboard. 

The person was typing fast, M/n noticed. He leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting if the other person would speak first, and give him a hint of who they were. But nothing, the typing continued as if the call wasn’t started by the other person. “Hello?” M/n spoke up, and suddenly the typing slowed down, yet didn’t stop. “Mr. Howard– it’s nice to finally be talking to you myself– usually Adrian–” the person on the other end stopped themselves, a giggle followed– it was someone M/n didn’t know, “Oops– slip of a tongue~ anyways usually I get informed if someone snoops around–” there was a short pause, “I have to say it’s really admirable how– organized you are with the files but it’s not an option to share it– so I’ll take what’s rightfully not yours to share,” suddenly a gut wrenching feeling churned inside of M/n’s stomach.

With the phone at his ears, he took precise steps towards his study, grabbing the gun that hung snug in its holster by his pants. Standing out of view of the inside of his office, he tried to listen to any anomalies in his study. The typing that never ceased penetrated his ear, just as M/n heard a faint “Now,” did he push the half open door, further open with his arms raised and loaded gun in a tight grip, ready to shoot. 

Yet all he saw was that his desk was a sudden mess with some papers drenched in liquor, but his eyes fell on the shadow that made its way out of his, now open, window. “Fuck–” M/N cursed as he dashed to the window, but as he leaned out of it the figure was already at the ground running into the next best alley.

“Thanks for the cooperation– hope to talk to you again, so don’t make it easy or boring~” the voice from the other side chirped, before the call was cut off. Hot boiling anger surged through M/N’s veins, his grip tightened around the gun before he grabbed the phone from his pocket in which he shoved it before going in his study. The screen was black, making him grind his teeth trying not to let the anger take over. 

Shoving the phone back into his back pocket, M/n turned around and walked over to the mahogany desk, and as his eyes fell on it the anger seemed to take new heights. Papers were missing, not only from his newest case but also one of the drawers was open in which he kept the case files of one specific group, a mafia that had their fingers dipped into a lot of crimes. 

M/n doesn’t have the chance to link any of the crimes together and back to the mafia, but he– hell everyone knew that there were multiple corrupted groups out there fighting for power, to rule. But with the corruption even in his own area of work, it was basically impossible with everyone paid to shut up– or made to never speak.

But exactly those case files were gone.

Gritting his teeth, the anger boiled over. With a swift motion he grabbed the empty glass bottle, and in the same heartbeat the sound of shattering glass was heard as M/N threw the bottle against the wall. His hands were balled into fists as he stared at the wall furious, before his attention landed back on the table in hopes of finding anything that was still useful for him and the case. 

Finding absolutely nothing useful, as the other papers were drenched in alcohol where basic information. Closing his eyes, M/n took a few deep breaths, until he remembered that one specific name was said on call– Adrian. 

The next morning, M/n parked his car in front of the large high end tower, which belonged to none other than Adrian Sinclair. Getting out, closing the door rather harshly– which he might regret later– M/n stepped foot into the building, making his way quickly to the front desk, there sat a woman who typed away at the keyboard, “Is Mr. Sinclair in the building today?” he asked. 

With the focus of the woman now on him, “He is, but you need an appointment– hey!” M/n only listened so far, before he stalked over to the elevators, getting in one that was about to close, as he heard hasty footsteps behind him. “Stop!” the woman screeched, but before she reached the elevator it closed. 

Turning around, M/n only raised an eyebrow as he saw the two people occupying the elevator beside him, eyeing him.

Adrian looked up as the doors to his office were pushed open with force, he was about to say something about how he could simply fire whoever thought they could just burst into his office, but the words got stuck in his throat as the one person– man walked in with whom he didn't mind. 

“M/n what an honor to see you so soon–” Adrian spoke, but as he saw the look on the man’s face he shut up, but the excitement swirled in his stomach. M/n slammed his hands on the desk, that stood between them leaning forward, e/c eyes stared into the green ones of the lawyer. “Already so desperate to send someone to break into my home, to steal case files?” M/n asked, voice laced with barely contained rage.

Adrian frowned at those words, “What do you mean?” “I mean that you first let some random call me to distract me– while another clown breaks into my office– god don’t act fucking stupid, he literally brought up your name,” his voice was surprisingly held low, as his body trembled with tension. 

“I know you have a lot of shit under your shoes– I wouldn’t be surprised if you hired someone to do this–” Adrian suddenly stood up, “Are you okay?” he suddenly asked and for a moment threw the other off. M/N licked his lips, as he let out a scoff, “Oh now you’re worried?” “I didn’t hire anyone– I swear,” there was a tension between them, but not one Adrian would’ve liked.

“Forget it,” with those words turned M/n on his heel and walked back out, while Adrian stood there, quite dumbfounded by what occurred just now, before he gritted his teeth and sat back down, “Seems like I have more to do, today.”