#time and space dont take forms

[aznisure]

“whats with the robe?” “i find its easier to get people to accept what i am when im shaped like their idea of it, ive also grown fond of this form over the recent centuries”

or, the twins meet Death

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just read the new mutants issue where Charles chose to stay behind in space and my god the juxtaposition between Charles trusting Erik and Erik joining the hellfire club and wondering at his own trust worthiness. I wonder how much of Charles decision was him ultimately trying to avoid the fact that his first class had seemingly betrayed mutant kind and not be willing to face them and how much of it was Dani and Illyana's reaction to him having Karma mind control Illyana. the fact that Illyana was depending on him to ease her mind through limbo and in choosing to stay he forced karma to do it instead, probably fucking up their relationship in the process.

I love him, this is crazy, how much of this is him trying to runaway and how much is this him not trusting himself to fix things and how much is it just him trusting Erik?

i keep trying to put into words my exact thoughts about the sitch but there really is a lot for one issue aintit... oh charles you and your brain...

[bunnyboy-juice]

OH MY GDD I FORGOT TO TELL YALL MY WIFE CAME HOME YESTERDAY AND JUST. WOOP. PICKED ME UP LIKE NOTHING. AND THEN DID IT AGAIN LIKE 20 MINUTES LATER AGAIN LIKE NOTHING.

[jellycreamjammedart]

Just say you think cp is ok as long as the minors are fictional you fuckin pedophile

Normally I ignore hostile or pre-judgmental asks on the off chances I get them, but I'll make exception for this one because it seems like a good opportunity for some much needed nuance-- also because I get this person's disgust, I really do.

But you, my fella, must understand that this isn't about the morality or even lack thereof behind dark fictional content, at all. You must realize that wanting dark and taboo fictional content (yes including that one you mentioned) not being allowed to exist actually does nothing to improve or protect irl lives, much on the contrary actually. No, I don't think there's any possible moral reason behind fictional cp content (nor do I find it 'ok',) but once again, this isn't about morality.

Please take a moment to read this thread (it words this topic better than me) then think it over. Trust me, it's a better use of your time than annoying ppl online with words you can't even bother standing up for with your name/face.

[ukusreticence]

destined for isolation - side a

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

raven with a distinct, but unplaceable accent. dure it may sound *similar* to this or that, but its not quite anything anyone has heard before...

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With no further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawn out orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they ached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she can not reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her, athird orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," he admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[hausofwoo]

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it’s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

��yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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[ribbonzregretz]

facin the horrors 👍

[siriuslylantsov]

sobriquet

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: spencer reacts to you calling him a nickname for the first time.

tags: fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, kissing and all around domesticity, bit cheesy, little teasing, spencer gets momentarily overwhelmed with how much he feels but i dont get into the nitty gritty.

a/n: sobriquet is the french word for nickname. anywho i just need spencer reid to call me angel. hope you like this! happy reading :)

wc: 1.3k

�� /ˈsəʊbrɪkeɪ/ ◦

the bright noon sun filters through the sheer curtains as you wake up, groggily pulling yourself into a sitting position. you rub at the sleep in your eyes with a low grumble. the space beside you is vacant, you run a hand over the spencer shaped chasm indented into the mattress. it's gone cold so you assume he's been up for a while, having let you sleep in, probably perched on the couch, book in hand.

you drag yourself into the living room of spencer's apartment, despite the daylight scattered across the space, it still feels cosy, relentlessly cosy. which is probably why you spend so much time here, like you are now. a rare case-free weekend off presented itself to the team, so the two of you decided on spending a lazy 2 days together.  

you bend at the waist and wrap your arms around spencer's shoulders when you find him on the couch. he lets out a slightly distracted hum, pressing his lips to your forearm in a kiss, though it's more open mouthed as you catch him in the middle of reading a passage. you squeeze him once and walk to the kitchen. he follows you, needing a refill to his coffee.

both of you work in silence, spencer engrossed in the pages in front of him as the moka pot heats up on the stove while you grab the carton of milk from the fridge. when you open the cabinet for the box of cereal that resides there, you don't find it. strange. you open the one beside it in hopes that you'd find it there, you don't.

“baby, where's the cereal?” you ask spencer, peering behind boxes and packets for a glimpse of the tell-tale red of the kelloggs logo.

his eyes dart up from his book, finally tearing away from the words. did you just call him baby?

you push up from your knees, turning to look at him expectantly, “spencer?”

his eyes are wide, eyebrows pinched up ever so slightly that a line forms in the middle, you want to smooth it out. he looks alarmed, so you cross over to him, taking the book out of his hands and setting it on the counter, turning off the heat to the stove at the same time.

“hey, are you okay?” your voice is low so as to not alarm him further, but still pressing to know what’s wrong.

apart from the alarm, his face is unreadable. “what did you just say?”

you graze a hand over his forearm, “are you okay?”

“no. before that.”

“um... where's the cereal? spencer, are you-”

“you called me baby,” he interjects. barely a whisper but you catch it.

oh. your lips part, trying to get a read on his face, you can't. “did i?” you respond meekly, playing dumb in case he didn't like it. the two of you haven't experimented with nicknames much, the relationship being fairly new and only used to addressing eachother by first or last names.

he nods, lips curling into a small smile. oh. “say it again?”

you want to protest but he's quick to stop you with a “please.”

“baby,” you chew your bottom lip nervously, searching for any recoil in his eyes, you find none. his smile only grows.

“again.”

“spence,” you whine, feeling embarrassed.

“please,” he repeats, eyes big and imploring.

you sigh, how do you possibly deny him? chagrin be damned.

“baby,” you whisper, almost cooing, as you raise a hand to cup his cheek.

teeth peek out of his mouth now, grinning wholeheartedly. his arms find solace around your waist as he pulls you in, tucking his head into your neck. you can feel his smile on your skin, and you giggle.

“i take it you like it then?” you murmur, threading your fingers into his hair the back of his head.

he presses a kiss to your neck. “of course i do, angel,” he responds, words trailing off tentatively.

angel. your brain runs circles around the way the word sounded coming from him, how good it sounded, angel. in a matter of seconds, he’d managed to turn the tables and you understand why he reacted how he did when you called him baby, you wouldn't mind him calling you angel again either.

you pull back to look at his face. he's a shy and sheepish thing when you take him in. your face isn't as unreadable as his was, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled at the corners as you try to bite back a smile, so he calms easily. 

“that's new,” you remark, poking at his chest.

“yeah,” he says, pulling you closer as he leans against the counter. “you like it?”

“mhm,” you hum giddily, rising on your toes to kiss him. 

his lips move against yours gently as he kisses you back. his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in. you nip it before pulling back.

“i've got morning breath,” you explain simply, alleviating his confusion.

he's indifferent when he leans back in, “does it look like i care?”

you give him a quick peck on the nose before exhaling a puff of hot air into his face, trying to drum up as much bad breath as you can. you laugh as his face scrunches up in mild disgust, nose wrinkled, and lips pulled into a pout. he's quick to recover though, head dipping to kiss you again. sighing into the kiss, you push his face from yours and hide under his chin. his arms move higher and wrap across your shoulders.

“in the hallway,” spencer says abruptly.

you hum into his chest in confusion, and he explains further, “the cereal is in a bag in the hallway. i finished the last of it earlier and went to go buy some more.”

“you went grocery shopping? just for cereal?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, but he can make out what you're saying.

“yeah, gotta make sure my angel is fed,” he murmurs into your hair that tickles his chin.

you groan a little at how corny he sounds but bury further into him regardless, clearly flustered. he huffs out a chuckle at your state.

“oh don't be so smug,” you grumble, lifting your head up to look at him. god was he pretty.

“angel,” he drags out, almost taunting, but inherently laced in affection. he can't help it, you are an angel personified to him, the name was only fitting. and it wasn't often that you were on the tail end of the teasing, so he's making sure to take advantage of whatever was making you all giddy as if you couldn't do the same thing to him tenfold. 

when he sees the glint in your eyes though, he knows you're about to. he braces himself internally as you hold his face with two soft hands, cradling him. he shifts slightly to kiss your palm, admittedly trying to avoid your gaze. 

“beautiful,” you start, and he's already done for, turning his head further into your hand. you're not having it, so you bring him back to you, firmer grip this time but fingers still as soft as before. “perfect,” you continue, words also firm, “angel boy.” 

you seem to have rendered him silent, an easy thing for you to do because it's you, chipping away at any and all words he had stored simply because of what you called him. it's unbelievable that a mere nickname could reduce him to this–he’ll be sure to try it on you later. but for now, he just hugs you again, dropping his head back into your neck and arms around your waist. yours loop around his neck, rooting his head where it is. 

your fingers press into his scalp, massaging lightly. you continue murmuring little things into the silence, turning your head so he hears you better. angel, baby, genius boy, pumpkin, sweet cheeks, shnookums. 

his head lifts up, bewildered, “shnookums?”

“hey! i don't know what you're into,” you lean back in surrender, hoping to bring some humour into this because frankly, he was overwhelmed, and you knew.

he lets out a low chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours and you melt sleepily against him.

“i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too, angel girl.” 

m.list | reblogs and replies are appreciated!

[senanatheskenana]

How They Look at You

Tanjirou looks at you like you are the night sky, wonder and admiration emanating from his eyes. He can hardly look away from your beauty, but it blinds him.

"You... Are the most beautiful person i have ever met, or will meet"

Rengoku looks you in the eye with adoration so strong it looks like his eyes are burning. He could look at you forever without blinking, without getting bored.

"Please, let me look at you a little longer"

Giyuu can hardly look you in the eye without getting shy. Each time your eyes meet, his face erupts in pink and the need to avert his eyes is undeniable. Still, he stares out of the corner of his eye, hoping you wont see him this time.

"I-I wasn't staring, don't look at me like that"

Inosuke doesnt try to hide his stares. He stands in front of you, forehead against your ownm eyes boring into your soul. It feels like hes watching your movements with how closely he stares. Its almost as unnerving as it is endearing.

"Zuitsu told me that staring into someone's eyes will make them fall in love with me! So keep looking!"

Akaza gazes at you with respect and reverence, as though you were a holy grail. He doesn't dare touch you, fearing that he may taint you. You are unattainable, and so he must watch from afar and yearn for you.

"Please dont come any closer, i can't trust myself to not ruin you"

Gyutaro feels unworthy to even look in your direction- you are so beautiful, so ethereal. Surely he does not deserve to be close enough to see you when he is so wretched. Yet, when you watch him, he feels as though he was chosen by some god. Surely he does not deserve your time, or to even see your heavenly form upon the same ground he walks. So against his longing body, he forces himself to recoil from your waiting form like how he shrinks away from the sun.

"Please don't look at me, i'm hideous. I'm sorry for taking up your space, i have made it unclean"

[mimikyuno]

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE WAS READY TO TELL HER!! SHE WAS FINALLY FEELING ALMOST SAFE ENOUGH TO BE ABLE TO COME OUT ON HER OWN TERMS TO THE ONE WHO HAS WAITED BY HER SIDE, PATIENTLY WAITING ALL THIS TIME. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE THINKS IT’S ALL RUINED!!!!! SHE HAD A TASTE OF REAL SISTERHOOD AND FEMALE FRIENDSHIP AND BEING ONE OF THE GIRLS WITHOUT ANY “IF” AND “BUT”. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE IS OUT TO PEOPLE WHO LOVE HER ALREADY. AND SHE IS OUT TO TRANSPHOBIC ASSHOLES. SHE KNOWS THAT HER DEAREST FRIENDS WILL LOVE AND ACCEPT HER AND UNDERSTAND HER BUT SHE CANNOT TAKE THE CREEPING DOUBT THAT THEY’RE JUST BEING KIND OUT OF PITY AND ACTING LIKE NOTHING’S DIFFERENT WHEN TO MIZUKI EVERYTHING’S CHANGED!!! BECAUSE NOW THEY KNOW TOO AND SHE CANNOT TAKE THE THOUGHT OF THEM NOW NOT SEEING HER AS A “REAL GIRL”, AS HER BULLIES PUT IT. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE TORE THE DRESSES AND BROKE HER MIRROR AND BLINDFOLDED HER EYES. SHE IS THAT REPULSIVE!! WHY COULDNT SHE BE BORN A “”REAL”” GIRL!!!! YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE WAS SO SCARED OF THEM FINDING OUT, ESPECIALLY ENA, AND NOW ENA FOUND OUT IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE!!! YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDDDD SHE WAS SCARED OF COMING OUT BUT ALSO IT WAS EATING AWAY AT HER AND MAKING HER DISTANCE HERSELF FROM THE REST OF NIIGO AND IT WAS ONLY THROUGH ENA’S KINDNESS AND INSISTENCE THAT SHE WAS ABLE TO NOT DISTANCE HERSELF COMPLETELY FROM THE OTHERS, BUT THAT ONLY MEANS THAT NOW IT HURTS THAT MUCH MORE TO LOSE THEM!!! AND LOSING THEM NOT EVEN BECAUSE THEY REJECTED HER BUT BECAUSE SHE REJECTED THEM BEFORE SHE COULD EVEN FACE THEM!!! YOU. DONT. UNDERSTAND. SHE IS GONE FROM THE REAL WORLD, SHE IS DEPICTED LIKE SHE IS ABOUT TO BE HANGED, BLINDFOLDED, OFFERING HER NECK, DEFEATED, AS THE LACES SHE SO CHERISHED FORM A LOOP IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE ILLUSTRATION, AS IF THEY ARE HER ROPE. SHE IS DISSOCIATED AND SUICIDAL AND IS ISOLATING HERSELF. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE WAS ALWAYS SMILING AND PUTTING ON A BRAVE FACE – ALWAYS READING THE ROOM AND HELPING ENA, KANADE, AND MAFUYU WITH THEIR STRUGGLES, BIG AND SMALL, SIMPLY BC THEY WERE HER PRECIOUS FRIENDS!! YOU DONT. UNDERSTAND. SHE WAS ALREADY SUICIDAL IN MIDDLE SCHOOL, WHEN SHE WAS REPRESSING HERSELF AND REJECTING HER TRANSNESS, SHORT HAIR AND MALE UNIFORM. NIIGO WAS THE LIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!! NIIGO WAS HER ANCHOR AND HER SAFE SPACE!! WITH NIIGO SHE COULD JUST BE “AMIA”, A GIRL, AND MAKE MUSIC AND FILL WITH LOVE AND WARMTH THOSE ENDLESS NIGHTS. SHE TRANSITIONED AFTER NIIGO GAVE HER A FEELING OF PURPOSE, “AH, LIFE IS WORTH LIVING AFTER ALL.” AND IT’S ALL GONE NOW. SHE SAW ENA’S SHOCKED FACE WHEN HER CLASSMATES OUTED HER WITH THEIR TRANSPHOBIC JOKES. IT’S ALL GONE. IN AN INSTANT. “DONT LOOK AT ME”. BUT ALSO. “DONT LEAVE ME.” GODDDDDD

[basiliskkisses]

im ♤, and this is my nsft sideblog.

don't really have much of a dni since i don't forsee much interaction to begin with.

those things being said; this is my space for me. if something here skeeves you out or upsets you, that blows and im sorry, but respectfully - leave. i wont argue w strangers on the internet.

have fun! I intend to.

[eggueggueo]

Shadowvanilla in Dungeons & Dragons...

Que me yapping under the notes

I would like to say, uve created a special kind of brainrot in my mind with this ask

Ive wanted to write a whole fic off this now with how much it inspired me gjcjch

For now though, have this! Im still drawing the outfit designs for them (smilks is done but pv is taking foreeeever) but i really wanted to do something silly in the meantime hehe

I thought for days how to approach this idea since the ask was pretty vauge and open to a lot of interpretation (/not complaining!!) And pulled inspiration from bg3 since thats one form of dnd im familiar with. Then i thought about the owlbears in the game and that itd be silly to draw something related to it (even though idk how to draw animals at all ☠️)

Now onto info for this au!!

For the setting, initially it takes place in ep7/8 ish (since atp 8 hasnt come out but its gonna be hella canon divergent anyways so shrugs) where pv and smilks have their final confrontation. Pv wins, but takes pity on smilks and spares him. Smilks in a fit of desperation and delirium, tries one more trick to beat pv, but it backfires terribly and both their magic (since they pull from the same soulgem) does some weird wombo combo effect reaction which alters time and space and! Poof they both get pulled into the rift/distortion

When they wake, all that they experienced (in their canon world) is like a strange dream. I wont say more since id like to elaborate and explore the idea more

And erm,,,it might change a bit since the ideas are still being worked on

But!!

Pure vanillas class is a cleric (shocker) and shadow milks class is a sorcerer

Its a running gag in my head that everytime shadow milk tells someone hes a sorcerer, they look him up and down and say, "your....a sorcerer?? You dont dress the part"

To which he will roll his eyes in annoyance and tell them, "their clothing is too boring to wear!"

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

SOULMATE SOAP HAS MY HEART. I DONT THINK THERES ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO FOR HIM

67 / 2.8k / soap soulmate au, epilogue

...

"Anything, you say?" Soap's eyes sparkle. "A dangerous proposal, hen."

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you said." He grins at you as he towels himself off. "I’m wonderin' what exactly I could get away with, bein' offered anything. No limits, no boundaries..."

You can't help but let your gaze trail down his form. He's totally naked and still dripping wet. "Anything within reason."

"Where's the fun in bein’ reasonable?"

You lean back, pulling your feet up and crossing your legs atop the low hotel coffee table where you're seated.

You and Soap have been getting to know each other here—intimately, as soulmates and people—for the past two days. You don't live near Glasgow and wouldn't tell Soap where exactly you call home, so he offered to get the two of you a hotel suite near the mountains while the higher-ups figure out what to do with you.

You figured he'd offer to take you out on a date or something, but so far you haven't made it out of the hotel room yet. It's more like a honeymoon than a vacation. You can't say you're disappointed with all the things he's shown you, though.

"Oh, so it hasn't been fun for you yet?"

Soap laughs at that and throws the towel to the carpet. No point in modesty. You’ve seen and touched every scar and bruise on his powerful body, but it does nothing to deter your gaze.

"Been plenty fun. But now I know I could be gettin’ away with even more if I play my cards right."

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

You scoff. "Pervert."

"Am I?" He leans toward you and braces his hands on the edge of the coffee table. He loves the way you try to resist looking at him but can’t help yourself. Your gaze keeps trailing down to his abs. "I think you like the idea of me down on my knees. I’ve seen you enjoyin’ the view."

Your back straightens. He's so cocky. Still, your eyes don't meet his. If anything, they dip lower. "Laswell called while you were in the shower."

"Did she?" He strolls across the space between the bathroom and the bed to his duffel bag. You lean back and watch him languidly as he digs around for his phone, his handsome mouth settling into a frown. He won’t find it. He sees why once he glances over at you to see your catlike smile.

Soap crosses his arms and looks down at you. "Resigned to petty thievery now, are we?"

You shrug and hold his phone out, letting it dangle from your fingertips like a mouse by the tail. "It's not like I have any other jobs to preoccupy my time."

He pauses to admire the view down your tank top—his tank top—and then snatches the phone away. "How many times do you want me tae beg and grovel for forgiveness? Not that you deserve it, ye wee hellion,” he mutters, scrolling through his recent calls.

"At least three more times." You lean back on your hands as he walks away. "Aren't you going to ask me what she said?"

"Are you going to tell the truth?"

"I was considering it."

"Were you?”

You sigh and watch him raise his phone to his ear. You miss when he hung on your every word.

"Go for Soap."

Soap makes a show of talking on the phone with Laswell. He tries not to glance at you too much. You and your sharp pout and the black tank top you’re wearing and how it rides up on your hips and leaves nothing to the imagination. He’ll have to do something about that later.

"Aye. Understood." A slow grin stretches across his face. "Now that is good news. Pleased to be workin' with ya, Laswell."

He hangs up. You cross your arms. "Well?"

Soap tosses his phone on the bed and turns back to you. "Ought to chew you out for answering a call on a secure line."

"Kate already did."

"Did she, now? And you’re on a first-name basis?" Now he is amused. "Don't think I'm not keeping track of every little rule you’ve broken so far. You’re in enough trouble as it is."

You bounce your leg against the tabletop. "What did she say?"

Soap closes the space between you. In the time it takes him to reach you, you stand up, bare feet on the low table. It puts you barely above eye level with him.

"She didn't tell you the news, then, did she?" His lips twist into a smug smirk. "Serves you right."

You stare him down. You don't often get the chance to, so you capitalize on it for all you're worth. "She did," you lie.

"You’re lying, darlin’."

"How would you know?"

"You'd be right pissed off already, for one." He wraps his hands around the backs of your bare thighs idly. His thumbs brush the underside of your ass. "For two, I know better than to take you at your word. Might as well start assuming the opposite of what you decide to tell me."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your soulmate."

"You’ve never been nice to me in your life." He pulls you closer, making your legs part so he can hike his thigh up between them, his foot flat on the table between yours. He grins at you. "I seem to recall you threatenin' me that first night we met."

You push against his chest to steady yourself. "I was trying to protect your dumb ass. You were going to get yourself killed."

Soap’s hand slides up to the small of your back to help you balance. "Didn't get killed, though, did I?"

"Only because I told you to hide."

"My guardian angel."

"You're lucky you got away when you did. If you compromised us, I would've gutted you."

"Vicious, vicious woman."

"Stubborn mule of a man."

"Gorgeous, disobedient pain in my ass." Soap takes your chin in his fingers and lifts it, drifting closer to your lips as if drawn in. "Not tae mention ornery."

"You're ornery."

"Now, that's hurtful. You ought to give me some sympathy."

"Give me one good reason why."

His hands slide up to cup your ass. "Because I’m your soulmate, and I’m entitled to a little sympathy for the fact that your brazen attitude makes me crazy."

You rub at his collarbone. "If you're my soulmate, it follows that you deserve it."

Christ, he loves when you say shit like that. He leans in to mouth the underside of your jaw and murmur directly against your ear. "You know what I deserve? And you’re gonna give it to me?"

You tilt your head up. His lips slide further down your neck. You preen. "Someone has to."

He lets out a dark huff of laughter at the response. You’re all too eager to push back at him, and nothing gets him hard faster than a challenge.

Just as he latches onto your neck and begins marking you with a new hickey, you push him backward onto the hotel bed. Soap laughs as he lets himself fall. Then he sits up on his elbows and leers at you. His hair is already mussed and his breathing already heavier than normal.

You climb over him, plant your palms on his shoulders, and press him down into the comforter. Right as you stoop down to catch his bottom lip in your teeth, though, you look down at him from above and frown. "Wait, but what did Laswell say?"

Soap pauses. “Now?”

"Yes." You can’t stand not knowing. "Tell me."

Soap grabs two handfuls of your ass and squeezes in annoyance. Ruin the mood, then. "She said she heard back from the program." The program meant to protect the soulmates of military operators and other agents who could be compromised by the existance—or any knowledge whatsoever—of a soulbond. Like witness protection.

You suck in an annoyed breath. "Are you really gonna lock me up in some safehouse?"

“I’d love to—chain you up, put you in a cage, keep you somewhere all safe and sound so nobody else can touch you.” Soap watches you with an off-kilter gleam in his eyes. His words draw an image in your mind that isn’t remotely unpleasant. “But it won't be with the program, no. They denied the request."

You perk up. "Really?"

Soap grins at how excited you get. “Aye. Said your old job makes you a security risk. Too hot to handle.” He lets out a huff as his hand slides up your bare thigh. “But don't get too excited. Laswell found another opening. Or… made one. Something in her sector."

You sit back in surprise. "CIA?"

"Aye. Turns out your impressive track record of selling violence for money makes you a font of useful intel. " Soap watches you, gauging your reaction. "Couldn’t let that go to waste, now, could they?"

You glare down at him. "What's the catch?"

Soap can see the wheels turning in your mind. He grins. "Oh, hardly a thing."

Your hands tighten on his shoulders in warning. "Johnny."

He grins up at you, all teeth and confidence. He loves the way you say his name. “You should go into intelligence. You’d be a hell of an interrogator. You’d get me to tell you anything and never even bat those pretty eyelashes at me."

"John, I swear to God."

He laughs as he sits up on his elbows, his free hand running up your leg to wrap around your hip. "Alright, alright. Pushy." This is almost how he wanted you: straddling him on the bed, hips pressed together. "You're the perfect hire because you come attached to your own soldier, aye? Package deal. Someone to keep an eye on you."

"What, like a handler?"

"Somethin' like that," he muses, tracing his finger along your spine.

You give him a doubtful look. There's no way Laswell would stoop so low. But seeing the shit-eating grin on his face gives you a sinking feeling. "I'm an asset?"

"Course not. An asset would've defected of their own free will. And since you runnin’ away with me is still off the record as of yet…"

Still perched across his hips, you cross your arms. "And what if I say no?"

Soap narrows his eyes.

The world flips. You're on your back, pinned underneath him against the bed. He presses your wrists against the comforter. "Then you'd be a hostage."

You pull at his grip, but it does no good. "You can’t do that."

"I can."

"Says who?"

He leans close. "Says your new handler." He lets the word sink in, lets it make your mind race with indignant heat. That's how he likes you best. His lips trail along the side of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there in a way that makes you arch up. "Talk or don't. Either way, I'll have a convenient excuse to keep you locked up tight."

Naturally. He lets the truth slip out so easily. Likely because he never intended to give you much of a choice. He's learned his lesson and knows very well not to trust you to stay in one place anymore. If he wants to keep you around, he needs to play dirty. Like you.

He trusts you with his life, yes, but not with your own. And certainly not with his heart.

You scoff. But instead of resisting, you relax your body and let him have his way. "Fine. If it makes no difference, do your job. You know what that is, right? Extract my intel."

He pauses with his mouth against your neck. You’re giving in already. He isn’t used to that.

He shifts his hands to thread your fingers together and pin them higher over your head. He lets his mouth brush your neck as he speaks. "I intend to."

"Go on, then. Let’s see a real interrogation. Nothing like that silly warehouse you had me in before."

Soap’s face falls into a scowl. Cheeky. "That wasn't an interrogation, hen. That was a rescue." He settles one muscular leg back between your thighs. "Bloody eager to test my patience. And for what?"

"Mm."

He lets his knee nudge up against your core and grind against it, skin to skin. "You want a fight?" His voice softens, barely. "You want control?"

You think about it. But ultimately, you let your eyes close and relax your body that much more under him. "No, I trust you."

“Oh?” You’ve never said that before. Those words sound good coming from your lips. “Do ye?”

You open your eyes a fraction to narrow them at him. "Don't look too far into it."

“I’ll look as far as I please. Trust me not to hurt you, trust me not to let you leave...” He kisses you. It steals your breath again. "Trust me to give you what you need. Am I close?"

"You're trying to rile me up."

A dangerous grin slowly spreads across his face. “That's what I do best, sweetheart. So you trust me, eh?" When he gets like this—dark and heated, predatory—Soap looks more dangerous than all the weapons he’s ever used combined. A man as trained and deadly as Soap can get downright lethal when he’s playing with you. “Are you sure you should be trusting a man like me?”

"No, definitely not. Horrible idea."

He lets a laugh rumble out of his chest and his knee grinds against you again, earning himself a soft gasp. "But you’re still doing it, aren’t you? And you know what I'd do if your sweet little ass pulled another runner."

"I'm shaking in my socks."

His eyes flash with heat as he smirks down at you. He can feel your thighs clenching around his leg as he continues to grind against you. "You ought to be," he murmurs. "You know I got you. And you owe me."

"Do I?"

"Aye. For runnin' away from me, for lyin', for makin' me hunt you down. For makin' me drag your ass out of a frozen river. For makin' me think you were gonnae freeze t'death the moment I finally got you in my arms." He gives you such a heated look, you find yourself looking off at the ceiling behind him rather than holding his gaze. "And that's not even gettin' into all the stitches I got 'cause of you. You owe me for every single one."

You swallow. "Are you planning to hold that stuff over my head forever?"

If you had any idea how it felt to see you disappearing into that river, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.

"That depends on whether you plan on bein' the sort who needs to be kept in line forever," he growls. "Or whether you're gonnae let me keep you safe, darlin', always where I want ye."

Your face warms and your chest flutters. Damn it. "Fat chance," you retort as quickly as you can to cover up the butterflies.

"Forever it is, then." He lets go of your hands and reaches up to grab your chin. Soap has big hands, strong, with too many scars along his knuckles given his young age. "You’d do well to remember that every time you think about runnin’ from me.” His knee grinds up against you again, a tease and a promise all rolled into one. “Now tell me again that you trust me.”

"Nnh." You squirm. "Johnny, c'mon..."

"No, go on. Say it for me. Say you trust me. Say it out loud." He leans in closer. He's hungry again. Starving. "Let me hear it again. Sounds as pretty as you look."

You roll your hips against his knee again, seeing stars against your eyelids when his thigh muscle clenches.

His grip tightens in warning as he fights to keep control of himself. "You’re pushin’ it, hen."

"Do something about it," you murmur. You wanted bite in your voice, but it's not quite there. "Handler."

Coming from your mouth, it does funny things to his mind. His muscles coil tight with need. But then he relaxes. He has all the time in the world to do everything he wants to you. He bites down gently on your ear, earning a breathless shudder from you. His hands snake under your hips, pulling them up higher as his body slides between your legs.

"That's right. All mine."

...

the end :) thanks everyone! soap loves you <3

...

← previous part / [epilogue]

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

...

send me a prompt for more of him? :)

[darylbrainrot]

HEARTTHROB-

CHAPTER 1: Feeding Starving Influencers (2.4k words)

a/n: i messed up the date on the second ss, its supposed to be January 15

JANUARY 15— 1:51 PM

You were currently sitting in your office, doing nothing but trying to brainstorm some new ideas on what to post for your youtube. You have been feeling a bit burnt out, feeling as if every single unique idea has oozed out of your brain and formed a puddle of mush at the bottom of your feet. Uninspired, dull, and discouraged were some simple adjectives to put into perspective of your current feelings.

It felt as if your thoughts were the same as watching paint dry; boring, repetitive, and expected. Sighing, you grabbed your phone to scroll on whatever social media you want to pick to at least give yourself a sort of a brain break. That was until you noticed a new notification on your phone.

You felt nervous weirdly enough. This would be your first time even agreeing to collaborate with someone else and it's an all time new for you. You and Quen have been following each other for quite some time. You guys never texted, only comments left on each other posts was the farthest you've ever done. Even though this was an all-time new for you, pushing and challenging boundaries, you felt kinda glad this chance landed itself on your lap.

New opportunities dont come by every day, so you had to take this one.

Even though you don't know her, you can clearly tell she's a genuine person. Through this short interaction, you already felt so much better.

JANUARY 17— 7:30 AM

Today was the day you are going over Quen's to film for her youtube. You were excited and anxious at the same time. Quen sent you her address a bit ago after you both agreed on a time for you to get there. She lived around 2 hours max away from you, so you decided to leave a bit early to beat traffic. You both had decided to meet at 10:40 am as it was a good time for you and Quen.

Grabbing your keys, jacket, bag, and whatever necessities needed, you left your apartment and started heading towards your car. You started your car, hearing your engine roar into power, as you sat in the driver's seat. You had a Nissan 350z, one of your dream cars from youth that you were able to buy at a good price a couple years back. It had a black glossy exterior shining brightly and a matching black and red interior. Though you had one of your dream cars, your true dream car was a 1965 Ford Mustang.

Getting comfortable in your seat, you connect your phone to the aux to start playing your spotify playlist. The first song that came up was dive in by pierce the veil, one of your favorite songs. Singing along, you finally pulled out of the parking lot and headed your way toward Quen's address.

Traffic was quite forgiving today, as surprising as it is. It was a decently long drive but you felt glad that there was no heavy traffic on your way to Quen. Glad that you slept a bit longer yesterday, you were nearing her house and you can already tell its gorgeous.

it was a modern house, still, you can see Quen's personality seeping through.

Sending her a quick message about your arrival, you quickly found an empty parking space and parked. Grabbing your items, you made your way to her house.

It was cute, with pretty greenery outside, giving the house some personality. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you felt your nerves at an all-time max even though you knew that Quen was a nice and chill person. You felt your hands get clammy so you quickly wiped your hands on your pants. But as soon as you reached her doorstep, the door flew right open.

She yelled your name with a huge grin, quickly catching you in a hug.

"HEYYY! You're literally so much more gorgeous in person that I think I'm already in love with you", Quen said

You laugh, your smile matching hers "I think I should get on one knee already, I already love you."

You both laugh, she quickly moves out of the way and welcomes you in. The inside of her house was cute, with some nice vintage furniture and random pops of color here and there that highlighted her personality. There were silly pictures on the walls of her with friends or family, each sharing a big smile on their face. Seeing those photos puts a smile on your face.

"So, our set is all ready, I have all the cameras and audio prepared with the kitchen already set up with everything we need to cook. Do you want to start right now or do you want to relax for a bit, I know that you mentioned your car ride was pretty long." She said, moving her hands as she spoke. It seemed that was a habit of hers.

"I'm fine with recording right away" She nodded as she made her way to the kitchen with you following behind.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you saw how big it was. It was huge with white walls, wooden shelves with plants, and an assortment of tiny and cute decorations on them, the shelves were a nice shade of light gray that complemented well with the marble countertops. The ingredients needed lied on the countertops ready for use and the rest of the room was filled with cameras, lights, microphones, and people.

"Okay, so everything is set up as I said, my crews are here to make sure the audio is working and they're making sure the camera is good and shit." She was pointing at her crew and naming them, with them waving at you and you waving back with a smile.

Nodding, she continued, "We can start in 5, I'll do the intro and introduce you and what we're gonna do and will continue from there. You feeling alright? I know its your first collab and I would feel hella anxious if I was you right now."

"Okay that sounds good but yeah I feel a bit anxious right now, but I'll feel better as we film though, thanks for checking in." She nods, signaling her crew to get ready for filming as they all start their checking on the filming gear.

As soon as you knew it, 5 minutes had passed and filming started.

Quen positions herself in the middle of the kitchen island, arms stretched out. The person with the camera zoomed in into her as she began speaking, "Hey guys, welcome to this next episode of feeding starving celebrities, and today's guest is... Pierce the y/n!!!!" She yelled excitedly, with a huge smile on her face.

She raised her hands, signaling for the camera to pan to you. You smiled at her, your smile matching hers as you waved at the camera.

"hi"

"Okay so while she trying to act nonchalant, today I have a fat stack of questions to ask her while we make her favorite dishes. Any guesses on what were making?" She turned to you, waiting for your response.

"Umm... based on what ingredients are out, are we making sopes maybe? Hmmm, maybe agua de horchata too?" Your face was curious, hands on hips as you took a look at the variety of ingredients covering her marble counters.

"Okay, I see you!! You basically got it right but were also making jericallas, I know you're from Guadalajara and that's a very popular dessert there and you mentioned it as your favorite before. Sooo, that will be the menu for today! Lets hope and pray we don't burn down the kitchen!"

"Damn, you really did pull a Nardwuar on me, am I in one of his interviews?? Cut the cameras." You grin, successfully feeling less nervous.

She laughs, "Anyways, let's not expose my secrets. So we're gonna start with the sopes. I have the the masa, beans, meat, lettuce, cheese, and the cream." Nodding in confirmation, she continues.

"SO, step one, we mix the masa harina with salt and water," She says, grabbing the Maseca corn flour from behind her as well with the salt. "According to my directions, not really mine but from this website but let's pretend it's my recipe, we need 2 cups masa harina, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1 1/4 cups of water."

As Quen goes to fill a measuring cup with the needed amount of water, you grab a bowl big enough to mix the ingredients and start to pour out the needed measures of both the salt and flour. Pouring them into the bowl, Quen comes back with the needed water.

"Okay, so now, we pour the water in and mix with our hands. Do you wanna do that or do I do it?" She asks you.

"I got it, can you pour the water in though?"

She nods, pouring half of the water into the bowl so you can start mixing. Slowly, it starts becoming into the dough as Quen pours the rest into it. As you continue to mix it, you see Quen reach for her questions.

"So y/n, question numero uno is - wait actually its not really a question more of a statement. Anyways...", she looks into the second camera, giving it a mischievous glance that you didn't notice. "Look at this photo for me and tell me what you think about it. Does it trigger any feelings or memories?"

As you glance up from the bowl, Quen shows you the big notecard with her question written on it, but instead of a question, there's a photo.

"Oh my god" your jaw drops, "how the fuck did you find my middle school graduation photo. Dude... I swear to god do I need to put myself under witness protection, like I'm fearing for my life right now how did you actually find that. This is like lost footage." You start looking around as if you were being watched to further add to your bit.

Quen laughs loudly, doubling over as she shows the camera your middle school graduation photo. You had a heavy side bang, a terrible sense of fashion as if you just walked out of hot topic and Spencer at the same time, and heavy eyeliner.

"Dude, like seriously, I don't know how I was allowed to walk out of my house looking like that. I still feel the eyeliner in my eyes from the amount of times I messed up my eyeliner and ended up poking my eyes."

"STOP, you do NOT look that bad queen, man, have you seen how I looked like when I was doing Vine?" You laugh along with Quen, still wondering how she even got that photo.

"Dude this is actually insane, I was expecting some icebreaker type of questions but instead we just dove straight into it??? Oh my god. This is making me nervous for the rest of my questions."

The rest of the time goes on well, Quen asks some questions here and there while you both continue making the sopes. It was going pretty good, you started to cook the beans to place onto the cooked sopes while Quen started to work on the agua de horchata.

As you finished heating up the beans while Quen was talking to you, she suddenly cut herself off her sentence.

"You know what song has been stuck in my head as of recently?" You hum, asking her to continue as you started to spread the beans on each sope. "You know the song with Jorjiana and GloRilla? ILBB2?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it"

"So, the part thats stuck in my head is the one that goes like" Quen clears her throat, "They say shooters shoot... Duke Dennis, whats up with you?"

Before you can reply, she hits you with another line.

"SO WHO YOU TRYNNA SHOOT AT? WHOS YOUR YOUTUBE CRUSH??" She squeals, showing off her card with her question reading "who’s your youtube crush", pride evident on her face at how smoothly she was able to ask this.

Most people wouldve dodged the question, claiming it to be too risky for them to answer or either they were too scared to answer it. They would've played it cool, given a safe answer.

But you? You doubled down.

So, with all the confidence you could muster, you leaned over the kitchen counter, looking deadstraight into the camera in font of you, and said, "Hamzah, whats up with you?"

Quen lost her mind, squealing as she look at you in disbelief.

She yelled your name, "HAMZAH? As in hamzahthefantastic? The guy who's a part of slushy noobz?" Her eyes were wide as you nodded to her question.

"Girl I strive to be as bold as you, but as much as I strive to be as bold as you, I pray for you as well cause damn, may those fan girls not release their wrath on you."

"Anyways, back on topic, how do you know about Hamzah?" Quen asks you as she starts to drain the horchata she made in the blender into a pitcher, making sure to strain it.

You were finishing up the toppings on each sope, veggies, Oaxaca cheese, and crema. "I've seen some clips of both Martin and Hamzah on tik tok. I like them both, they're funny and seem like genuine people. I've seen Hamzah though and just thought he was cute, especially when he wasn't bald but he's still cute without hair." You shrug as Quen laughs.

The rest of the video goes well, you both finished making the sopes and horchata and moved on to making the jericallas which were simple enough and easier with two people. Quen kept on asking you questions with you answered them, you both were a good duo.

Laughs and screams were shared between you both as you conversed, your face hurt with how much you were smiling all throughout the hour and more of filming.

You finally finished making all the food and tried it together. It was really good in your opinion and Quens. Finally filming the outro and everything needed, at around 12:50 you were done with filming and cleaning up everything.

Since it was still bright out, you and Quen decided to hang out since both of your schedules were empty. It was a great night, full of laughter and meaningful conversations. Your bond with Quen was strong and you were glad you accepted her collaboration.

You had gotten home at 7:46 PM, finally worn out with all the action that you just headed straight into the shower and took a very deserved hot shower. You successfully ended your day at 10:26 PM and decided to treat yourself to early sleep.

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