#if that's the solution thanks i don't want it

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Dae-Ho X Reader: Warmth

A/n: just needed to write some flully Dae-ho. He's such a sweetie

Warnings: just fluff, no use of y/n, gn reader

Word count: 652

You were curled up into a ball on the cot. Your body felt tired from the games but sleep couldn’t seem to consume you. You were shaking in the darkness, not sure if it was due to fear or  the sudden cold that had consumed the room. You were sure they had changed the temperature. Perhaps it was a way to make sure you were uncomfortable and unable to rest properly. But you didn’t really care about the reason behind the sudden drop of temperature. All you knew is that it was almost unbearable. 

Something touched your arm, causing you to turn your head. Dae Ho stood before your bed, crouching slightly so you could see him.You lifted off the bed a bit,leaning on your hands as you whispered to him.

“Is it my turn to look out?”

“Oh no. Jung Bae and Gi hun are still up. I just noticed noise coming from your bed and wanted to check if you were alright.”

You opened your mouth to answer him but before you could your teeth began to clatter. Dae Ho’s eyes widened, finally understanding what the problem was. 

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah, it’s freezing in here.”

Dae-Ho was naturally warm blooded so the cold wasn’t bothering him. He actually preferred the chill air rather than the warmth. 

“Have you been able to sleep?”

You shook your head, body shivering silently as you continued to look at him. He could see from your face that you were tired. He tried to think of a solution. 

“I have an idea. Lay down.”

You did as he asked, continuing to face him as you rested back into the bed. He ducked under the metal cot, moving his body to rest on your bed. Slowly he lay down beside you pulling the cover over both of your bodies. The bed was small for one person and with the two of you sharing there was barely any space between you two. You didn’t mind the proximity, Dae Ho was a nice guy and you felt safe with him. 

“Scooch closer.”

Again you follow his request, moving until you could feel his breath on your face. The warmth that radiated off him was so strong. Unconsciously your body moved closer, trying to get impossible closer. Dae ho wrapped his arms around you, tugging you into his chest. You let out a sigh of relief as his warmth engulfed you. Your hands made their way to his back, slipping beneath his jacket.

“Aeee!”

You froze at his sudden yelp, eyes wide as you stared up at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Your hands are freezing!”

It was then that you noticed that you’d accidentally placed your hand beneath his shirt instead of his jacket. Your cold hands making contact with his skin. You began to move away, afraid that you’d caused him discomfort.

“No, don't take them out. It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it, that's all.”

You relaxed at his words, pressing your head into his chest as your hands continued to touch his bare skin. 

“Think you can sleep like this?”

“Yes.”

You raised your head so you could look up at him, a small smile on your lips.

“Thank you Dae-ho.”

The ex-marine smiled down at you, placing a small kiss on your temple.

“Now rest. You need it.”

“Wake me up when it’s our turn to look out.”

“Okay.”

With that you moved your head to Dae ho’s chest, eyes closing as his warmth lulled you into a deep sleep. Later that night Jung Bae made his way to your bunk, prepared to let you know it was your turn to look out. The sight he saw made him stifle a laugh. Dae-ho had his back turned to you, his body curled up as yours wrapped around him. Who would have thought the ex-marine liked being the little spoon.

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Heyy, because I love your writing so much I wanted to ask something!

So what about Wanda Maximoff x reader like romantic... like wands and y/n are really really close friends, but also they're in love with each other, and because of the Valentine's Day Wanda will take a step and will send her secret love greetings all week long such as (flowers, love letters...) and y/n, She's so curious about who's sending them to her that she finally catches Wanda in the act.

And they 💋

I hope u understand, because I'm so sorry about my English!

THANK YOU!

This is SUCH a cute request, I love it!! I decided to turn it into a drabble series, I hope you enjoy!

Not So Secret Admirer - February 7th

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You start getting anonymous Valentines and you're determined to find out who is sending them.

Warnings: None, just cute

Word Count: 400

Part 1 of 7

February 7th

You had just finished your morning training session with Steve when you walked back to your room. As you approached you saw a single red rose placed delicately in the door handle. You tilted your head to the side as confusion painted your features. You plucked the rose from the door and took a deep breath. The beautiful aroma coating your senses, it was sweet and fresh, you could smell the faint remnants of water droplets.

You opened your door and were met with rose petals beneath your feet. You let out a soft giggle and your face was painted with a huge smile. You looked into the rich red and it reminded you of one person and one person only. Wanda. The depth and complexity mingled with the soft nature and beauty.

You had known Wanda for a long time, you became an Avenger around the same time she did and you bonded with each other very quickly. You had lost people close to you so you were able to help Wanda with her brother's death. She told you all about Pietro and Sokovia, she even taught you a few words and recipes. Wanda was your best friend, the person you trusted, the person you always turned to, the person you loved.

"Y/n" The sound of Sam saying your name startled you out of your thoughts.

"Yes?" You ask as you open the door.

"You busy?"

"No, is something the matter?"

"I need your advice"

"Come in" You usher him over to the couch and sit down.

"See I've got this friend. And my friend is in love with their best friend and they won't say anything. Their friend is clearly in love with them too but my friend can't see or maybe is afraid of seeing it"

"I think I know the solution"

"You do?'

"It's simple. Tell Bucky how you feel"

"Bucky?! What?!"

"Just tell him, Sam. Like you said, he clearly loves yo back"

"He does? No, that's not my point. The friend isn't me"

"Sure they aren't"

"No, I really mean it"

"And I believe you"

"Stop that"

"Stop what?"

"Saying you believe me when you don't"

"Okay, Sam"

"You know you are just so-" He took a deep breath "I have to go, I'm late for training"

"With Bucky?"

"Yes, no, just stop it!"

You laughed to yourself as he stormed out of your room, you knew he was crazy but this was new.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core @leloishere @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @marcelinethe-vampire-queen @twentyonetornmyheart @yelldontwhisper

[lyn31]

Zayne Immediate Disorder (Extended)

Summary:

After the Prison Warden, Zayne, of Linkon City help you get away from the prison, yes indeed, what a mess. You thought he'll do the same not long after you get out, oh but how wrong you are... He has different plans in mind.

Ao3 link

Extra/Part 2

CW: Drug use (Frenzy Enhancer), Light dom/sub.

Notes:

Disclaimer: The first half on this fics are mainly from Zayne's new card, Immediate Disorder, which another reason why it's so long.... and I also use some of the line here and there to match the "canon" a bit more but the rest are all mine :) So if you don't want to get spoiler, even when it's not all here, better read his story first, but if you don't mind, go ahead and enjoy! And I would like to thank all my friend for helping me with feedback, I appreciate it very much! :D Shout out to @ccelestara You help me a lot girl!

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

Your flight is delayed until this evening. Thanks to the delay, you receive a call from your ex-subordinate. It’s about the Warden.

All of Linkon is in an uproar because of it.

The Warden, Zayne, is the SSS-Class Praedator, Galen—the serial killer authorities have been pursuing for years.

As the perpetrator was responsible for multiple deaths, Zayne’s trial will take place with all of Linkon watching. A new era is on the horizon, and his execution will mark its beginning.

Why would a serial killer, whom they couldn’t catch for five years, only be exposed now? Unless… You pause, lost in thought.

You take a sharp breath, suddenly struck by a realization you don’t like. Inhaling deeply, you leave your home, slamming the door behind you with more force than intended. Your pace quickens until you break into a run.

You need to see Zayne one last time. You need to hear the truth from him. You need to know—can he truly end everything without regret?

And then without you realizing it, you arrive.

Though no longer an enforcer, flashing your old badge is enough to get you past the unsuspecting guards. You navigate the prison’s corridors along a path you’ve walked countless times before. You make your way to the second floor.

Zayne has shut himself away in the interrogation room—the very same room where the two of you once said your goodbyes.

You push the door open, and there he is—the familiar figure you haven’t seen in a long time.

Hearing you enter, he turns around. His hazel eyes widen for a brief second before settling back into their usual calm gaze.

“I recall you saying you’d be on a plane this morning.”

Holding back a snort, you say, “So you deliberately waited until this evening to release the news. That way, I wouldn’t find out?”

“Your presence here means my plan has failed.”

“Your plan?” Your throat tightens. Your fists clench so tightly that they start to hurt.

“You never intended to survive this. You’ve been planning to end it all… including yourself.”

Looking at you quietly, he says. “Every TV channel, newspaper, and radio station are announcing it. A new era will arrive with the next dawn. Linkon is finally on the right path. The murders and crimes of the past must be erased.”

Zayne shifts his gaze to the side before looking back at you.

“I thought you, as an enforcer, would understand that criminals must be punished for their past deeds.”

Your chest tightens for a brief moment before you speak, your voice steady but weighed down. “The criminal has been punished. The Praedators and ordinary people get to live in peace. Linkon City will enter a new era. But what about you?”

Without waiting for his answer, you take a step closer.

“Zayne, have you gained anything from this?”

Another step. Your fists clench tighter, your breathing grows unsteady. The faint space between you disappears, and your shadow bleeds into his.

“Don’t you want anything in this life? Stop talking about Linkon, the virus, and the solution. I want to know about you, Zayne. Have you ever wanted anything for yourself?”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Zayne watches you for a moment. His voice lowers. “Are you here just to ask me that question?”

You take another step. Now, you’re so close you can practically feel his breath on your skin.

“What if I said yes? Would you answer me then?”

Just as you reach for him, he flinches. A groan escapes him, and his brows furrow.

“You should go,” he says breathlessly, avoiding your gaze.

“No, I won’t leave until you answer me. But Zayne… are you?”

You reach out again, this time feeling the heat of his skin before he pulls away.

He’s  about to go into a frenzy.

“I told you, you should go.” Zayne’s breathing grows ragged. His chest rises and falls rapidly, rattling the chains around his clothes.

“No. I refuse.” You turn toward the door and lock it.

Walking back to him, you scan the room. The interrogation tools from your last visit are still here—including the muzzles and chains.

“They say that when a Praedator goes into a frenzy, the desire to have what they truly want overwhelms them.”

Stepping closer, you ask, “Zayne, have you ever gone into a frenzy before?”

“No.”

He starts to take a step back but stops, steadying his breath. He looks at you. “I know how to control myself.”

“You implanted an activator in yourself, didn’t you?”

At this, his brows furrow slightly—his frustration breaking through his usual stoic expression.

“But that doesn’t mean a Praedator like me won’t harm the person standing in front of them.”

“I won’t become a Praedator.”

“You’ll die.”

“You already ‘killed’ me once before.” The corner of your mouth curls up. “You accused me of trying to assassinate the Warden. I never got the chance to see if I actually could.”

As you speak, you grab a chain from the wall.

"Do you always have to restrain yourself?" You wrap the chain around his wrist.

He scoffs. "Is that what you want me to do?"

"No. At least, that's not what I want right now."

Zayne point out with his gaze at the muzzle on the wall. You take the muzzle and carefully secure it around Zayne’s head. He doesn’t resist.

You hesitate for a moment, watching him. He allows you to restrain him without a fight. A strange feeling settles in your chest—confusion, concern. Why is he letting this happen? That’s what you instinctively think, but you know the answer already.

Then without a word, Zayne grabs another chain and hands it to you. His gaze sharpens, and his breathing grows ragged.

Fastening the chain around his wrist, you hear his low, breathless voice. "If you’re trying to break someone’s chains… don’t be afraid of the danger they’ll bring." Even in this situation, you can still hear his teasing tone.

Trailing your finger from his wrist to his chest, you push him back toward the interrogation chair.

"Wasn’t I supposed to die here anyway?" You smirk hearing your own question.

Near the chair, on a small table, something shiny catches your eye, reflecting the faint light that manages to seep into the closed-off interrogation room. You head toward the table and just miss when Zayne tries to grab you. You push him back down before continuing toward the table.

"You should leave while you still can," He warns, his voice low and more breathless than before.

You pick up the syringe filled with orange liquid from the table—the Frenzy Enhancer and you walk back toward the chair. Zayne’s intense gaze follows your every move.

"You’re only going to hurt yourself more by fighting to stay in control, you know."

Slowly, you place a hand on his shoulder. He shudders under your touch as you trace your fingers from the leather strap on his shoulder to the choker around his neck. Then, with a swift motion, you grab his jaw, forcing his head back to expose more of his neck.

He groans, his eyes flicking to the syringe in your hand.

"…Frenzy Enhancer? You’re going to use that on me?" He scoffs, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, laced with something unreadable.

"Yes. The Warden should be well aware of how it affects the Praedators."

The corner of his lips curls up. He doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement now. His gaze dares you, challenges you.

Without hesitation, you sink the needle into his heated skin, injecting the drug. He groans, and his breathing quickens even more than before. His skin burns even hotter beneath your fingers.

As you step back to give him some breathing room, you say, "Stop holding yourself back. You need to confront your true self."

His breathing grows heavier, each inhale pressing harder against the leather strap bound across his chest. The belt creaks under the pressure, groaning, straining to contain something unstoppable.

His muscles flex, his body straining against the restraint. His breath turns into low, guttural sounds, his entire frame trembling with suppressed force.

Then—a sharp snap.

The leather gives way, splitting apart as his chest heaves forward. The torn strap dangles uselessly at his sides, his breath ragged and uneven. His gaze lifts to you—dark, unrestrained, filled with something dangerous.

Involuntarily, you swallow hard. Slowly, you walk to his other side. His eyes follow your every move, scanning you like a predator sizing up his prey. His gaze sweeps over you—sharp, deliberate, assessing every detail. You meet his eyes, and in that moment, you know.

Taking a bold step directly in front of him, you place your hand on his thigh and kneel right in front of him, your fingers tightening just slightly as you quickly spread his legs apart. His breath hitches, a low gasp slipping past his lips, his chest heaving harder.

"Don’t worry…" you say, your voice calm yet full of intent, "I’ll take good care of you."

His eyes darken, his smirk widening, full of danger and amusement.

"You want me to submit…"

Before you can move, you hear the chains rattle; the sound growing louder as his hand shoots out, gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lap. The sudden shift in position takes you by surprise, and you gasp, your breath hitching in your throat. His lips brush against your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "Let me take what I desire first."

The air shifts—sudden, electric. Then his lips crash into yours with fierce urgency, stealing any coherent thought you might’ve had. You freeze for a split second, your heart hammering in your chest as his breath mingles with yours. The heat from his body sears through the thin fabric between you, making you shiver. His fingers dig into your sides, possessive and firm, as he deepens the kiss, pressing you against him with a force that leaves no space between you.

A soft moan escapes you before you can stop it, and it seems to only spur him on. His teeth graze your bottom lip, the sting making your body react before your mind has time to process. The pull of his kiss shifts from desperate to coaxing, urging you to match his intensity. You reach up, your hand slipping into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling him closer, desperate for more. The urgency inside you flares, a sharp need that only grows as he deepens the kiss. You’re not sure where he ends and you begin—every nerve in your body is alive, and it's all him.

His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging lightly, sending a different bolt of electricity straight down your spine, and you can feel your whole body arch into him, your chest tight with anticipation. Every touch, every pull seems to unlock something inside you, the heat pooling in your stomach, burning, aching for more. You don’t want to stop, don’t want to pull away.

The kiss is messy and consuming, like he’s starved for it, and you feel that hunger mirroring your own. His tongue sweeps past your lips, claiming everything he wants, but it's not just him—you're just as lost, just as hungry for him. Every breath you take is laced with desire, every beat of your heart screaming for more, and yet, you’re caught in a whirlwind of want, unable to think, unable to pull away.

When he pulls back, his lips hover close, and you can see a wildness in his eyes, filled with raw desire. His voice is barely a whisper, but carries an edge that sends a shiver down your spine. "You should’ve known... submission can be dangerous."

Your pulse is still racing, your breath uneven, and your body tingles with the lingering heat of his touch. You place your hand on his bare chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall beneath your palm, matching the frantic beat of your heart. The raw intensity of his gaze makes your insides tighten with anticipation, a strange mix of fear and longing that twists deep inside you. Then, instinctively, your hand slides up his forearm, fingers grazing the firm muscle, needing to ground yourself.

“Where’s your Activator?” you ask, your voice a little breathless. You try to steady yourself, but it betrays the rush of desire coursing through you.

The moment the words leave your mouth, you catch the glimmer of a smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips, a knowing, teasing expression that sends a jolt through your chest. With a ragged breath, he leans in closer, and before you can react, he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand back to his chest, pressing it against him with an urgency that makes your heart race even faster.

“Why don’t you… touch me and find out?” he murmurs, the words carrying an invitation—and a challenge—that makes everything inside you tighten in hunger. The electricity between you crackles yet again as if he knows just how much you’re aching for him, how much you want to feel him under your fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you move your hand, slowly at first, tracing the curve of his collarbone, your fingers grazing his skin as you feel him tense under your touch. The air between you thickens with the tension. You follow the path down his chest, lingering on his abs as a soft groan escapes him, the sound igniting a pulse of heat between your legs. You catch his gaze, locking onto it, and the rawness of his desire fuels the embers of your own. Your pulse races, your body aching to feel more of him, but you hold the moment—enjoying the power of teasing him just as much as he teases you.

He breathes out in frustration, his voice a low rasp. “You’re teasing me… It’s still not enough…”

So you don’t stop. Your hand keeps moving, creeping below his waistband, your fingers brushing ever so lightly against the growing heat beneath his pants. His breath catches, and your lips curl into a soft, teasing smile. As you raise an eyebrow, you sense the tension shift in him, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, a silent challenge in his eyes, before leaning in, his lips brushing your ear as his breath sends a shiver through you.

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his kisses trail down your jaw, down your neck—his lips warm against your skin. Every touch, every kiss from him yet again sends that jolts of electricity that you start to familiar with yet still very exhilarating, making you want him even more. And yet, when your hand continues its descent, feeling the evidence of his desire, growing more demanding beneath your touch, you know he feels the same way as you.

A low groan escapes him when his lips move to your earlobe, nipping it just enough to make your body tremble. You almost lose your focus, distracted by the sensation, but your hand keeps moving. Your fingers graze lower, slowly, but with purpose, pressing against him just enough to make him gasp.

His hand grabs your chin, tilting it upward, and his lips hover over yours for a brief, teasing moment before he nibbles your bottom lip. He pulls back slightly, and his gaze darkens with amusement. “What will you do next?”

Oh you know what you'll do next. With a quick, decisive motion, you push him back, watching the way he almost falls against the chair's backrest. The glint in his eyes tells you he enjoys the challenge just as much as you do, and you feel a surge of excitement at the thought of making him wait.

Your hand moves swiftly from his chest to his waist, fingers finding the firmness of him between his legs. The sudden contact makes him shudder, and you smile as his eyes glaze over, fixating on your chest. Before he can lean in, you push him back again, your other hand placed firmly on his chest, eyes locking with his, silently telling him to wait for his turn.

The moment you break eye contact, a rush of heat floods through your body. No matter how hard you try to play it cool, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that you’re perched on his lap. The heat between your legs only grows hotter, and you have to fight the urge to grind against him. You try to regain control—at least to mask your reaction—locking your gaze with his once more. His want is undeniable, simmering in the charged air between you, and the thrill of holding onto even a sliver of control sends a surge of adrenaline through your veins.

You keep your hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his skin, sending small shocks of electricity through him. You don’t break eye contact. Every small movement, every slight press of your hand on his chest makes the tension grow thick and suffocating, but you relish in it—holding him at bay just a little longer. You feel the control shift, your power growing with each moment you keep him waiting.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you press your palm against him, feeling the heat radiating through his clothes. Slowly, you begin to move your hand, applying enough pressure to tease, but not enough to satisfy. His breathing sharpens, chest rising and falling beneath your touch as he tries to keep his composure.

“Do you like that, Zayne?” you whisper, glancing up at him. His response is a ragged exhale, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the armrest.

You keep the slow rhythm, dragging your hand up and down, making him twitch under your touch with every stroke. Each pass, each movement makes him shudder, even so, you hold back, savoring the power of the moment.

You pull your hand back, the sudden absence making Zayne’s gaze snap to you, his eyes burning with need. You feel the tension in the air shift yet again, but you don’t give him the release he craves. Instead, you grab his choker, tugging him closer. His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. For a brief moment, your gazes lock, tension crackling between you like a live wire. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex as he tilts his head, silently inviting you to continue.

“You want to break it, don’t you?” Zayne’s voice is breathless, a dare in every word. The challenge hangs between you, a crackling tension that sets every nerve in your body alight with excitement.

You push him back with deliberate force, watching as he leans fully into the chair. The satisfaction of making him wait, of holding the control, sends a rush of heat through you. The choker snaps free in your hand, and you stare at it for a beat, your heart pounding as the moment stretches out. Without a word, you toss it aside. The silence between you deepens, thick and charged with raw tension.

“Patience,” you murmur, your voice low and commanding, each syllable deliberate. Your fingers work the muzzle loose, and as it falls away, he just stares at you—breath ragged, eyes wild with hunger. A mix of nerves and excitement coils in your stomach, sharper than you expected. Even though it’s an open muzzle, seeing him without it now sends a thrill through you.

A slow smirk curves your lips. “Much better.”

He exhales a shaky breath, a grin tugging at his lips. “Impressive,” he says, his voice rough with both admiration and something darker.

“But it’s my turn,” he grunts, the words thick with intent. His grip tightens as he surges forward, claiming the moment with a desperate intensity that steals the air from your lungs.

Before you can react, Zayne’s lips are on yours again, urgent, but this kiss is slower, deliberate—a demand as much as a plea. His lips trail down your jaw, your neck, the curve of your collarbone, every touch igniting a new wave of heat inside you. His tongue flicks against your skin, teasing and tasting, before his teeth follow, nipping just hard enough to make you gasp, your body instinctively arching into him as your hips grind against his thigh in reflex, finally. A low grunt rumbles in his chest, his grip tightening on your waist, urging you to do it again. Heat floods through you, a shuddering breath escaping as the friction sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you.

His hand finds your wrists, yanking them behind your back with swift ease, and you gasp at the sudden restraint. The vulnerability of it, the way he controls you without hesitation, sends a sharp thrill racing down your spine. His grip tightens, holding both your wrists effortlessly with one hand, while his other settles firmly on your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he keeps you locked in place.

His eyes lock onto yours, dark and commanding, as he urges your hips to move again, guiding you with slow, deliberate pressure. "Just like that," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. A shiver courses through you, each roll of your hips sending a rush of heat that leaves you breathless, your body tightening in response to his touch.

Zayne’s mouth is relentless, teasing you with soft, lingering kisses just above your exposed skin, his tongue flicking over the fabric of your shirt, tracing slow, deliberate circles. You shudder, your body reacting, but he refuses to give you what you want. His grip on your wrist behind your back remains firm, the restraint heightening every sensation, making your pulse race even faster. Every near-miss, every brush against your skin makes your body ache with want—his refusal only fuels your desire, making you want to push back against him, to make him feel the same urgency you do.

Then, at last, his lips close around your hardened peak, sucking gently at first, then harder. His teeth graze you, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure straight to your core. You cry out softly, your body trembling in his lap, your wrists straining against his grip, the rawness of the moment pushing you closer to the edge.

Your soft cry draws a ragged groan from Zayne, his breath unsteady, his grip tightening as he struggles to maintain control. But it’s slipping—you feel it in the tremble of his hand on your wrist, in the roughness of his kisses, in the ferocity of his desire.

And then, as if he can’t hold back any longer, Zayne snaps. The hand on your waist jerks away, his fingers wrapping around the chain on his wrist with a brutal tug. The metal gives way with a harsh, violent snap, fragments scattering beside you, the sound almost deafening. His hand is back on you instantly, roaming over your waist with an urgent, almost frantic need that sends a shiver through your entire body. Everything shifts. His control is shattered, his restraint gone, and in that instant, all that’s left is the hunger that burns between you.

His gaze burns into you, intense and untamed, his breath uneven as he draws you between his legs. One hand tangles in your hair, yanking you closer, while the other seizes your waist, guiding you down to the floor with a force that leaves no room for resistance. The raw urgency in his movements, the primal need that drives him now, sends a thrill of excitement coursing through you. Even in the moment's chaos, there’s a flicker of control—just enough to ensure you’re steady beneath him, but it’s the kind of control that makes your pulse race, knowing he’s ready to push you past any limits.

His voice drops, low and thick with heat, as his eyes lock onto yours. “Now, there’s only one thing left to do.” His voice is ragged, barely restrained, each word tumbling out like a need he can no longer contain, sending a shiver straight through you. His gaze never wavers, his intensity pressing down on you like a weight, leaving you breathless and craving what comes next.

For a moment, you do nothing but stare back at him, breath catching in your throat as you feel the weight of his gaze. It’s a challenge, a silent command—and you can feel your body respond to it, every nerve alive with anticipation.

You swallow hard, your eyes dropping to his waist. “So that’s where the Activator is…” you murmur, the words are soft but thick with meaning. Zayne follows your gaze, then drags his eyes back up to your face, to your body, his gaze darkening as he notices the hardened peak beneath your shirt.

Without hesitation, he leans down, capturing it with his mouth. His tongue twirls around you, his lips warm and demanding, making you gasp at the sensation. Your body writhes beneath him, your heart pounding in time with the pulse of need that rises in you.

But you don’t forget what you’re about to do. Your pulse quickens as you shift your knee, pressing just above his waist, feeling the twitch of his body against yours. His breath hitches, muscles flexing beneath your touch, and despite the flutter of nerves in your chest, you smile at his reaction, fully aware of the effect you’re having on him. The tension thickens, the unspoken challenge between you both only growing stronger.

You let your foot graze lower, brushing against his arousal in a teasing move that has him groaning, his grip on you tightening just a fraction as he fights to keep control. The moment his eyes snap open, wild and raw, you know it’s only a matter of time before both of you lose yourselves completely in the overwhelming tension between you.

His breath catches, a deep grunt rumbling from his chest, and his eyes flash with an intensity that makes your body ache with need. “Become my prisoner… or my master,” he says, voice low and deliberate. Each word tastes of a challenge, an invitation—and you feel every ounce of it.

The wicked smile that curls on your lips matches his as you reach up, wrapping your hand around his neck, and pulling him closer. The heat of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and the connection between you becomes even more undeniable, more electric.

“You can never… leave me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and unsteady as his lips brush over yours.

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The pressure between you—too much, too overwhelming after everything that’s led to this moment—pushes you both into something more. The kiss deepens, urgent and desperate, a clash of lips and tongues as you both crave the release that’s been building.

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, his body molding to yours as your mouths crash together again and again, hungry for more. Your hips instinctively grind against him, a steady rhythm driven by raw need, and the weight of his body above you only fuels the urgency. The heat, the tension, the desire—every inch of him presses you against the floor, every movement igniting a fire that spreads through your body.

Zayne’s fingers trail down your spine, gripping your hips harder, holding you in place as he pushes you into him with more force, guiding your grinding motion with growing urgency. You can feel the heat radiating between you, the pulse of desire making every second more intense than the last, every touch heightening the ache that has taken over you both.

Breathless, Zayne breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. His chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes dark with hunger. His hands move lower, gripping your thighs, guiding you—slow but sure—as his lips find yours again in a kiss that’s fierce and insistent.

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

Winter returns once more.

As you watch the light snow falling outside your window, it dawns on you: another year has passed since you and Zayne last parted ways in that interrogation room.

In the aftermath of that day, you walked away alone. The bitter truth that you couldn’t take him with you… You’d known that all along.

Even when he confessed that you were what he wanted, it wouldn’t have stopped him. Zayne has always been this way. Deep down, you’ve known it from the start.

After moving to this small town, you severed almost all ties with Linkon City. You made a conscious effort to avoid any news about him. You convinced yourself that if you didn’t see anything about him, you wouldn’t think about him anymore.

Then this morning, someone mentioned that a new doctor had opened a small clinic called Akso just a few blocks away. The moment you hear the clinic's name, your thoughts immediately go to a certain vet clinic with the same name—and a familiar doctor who became the prison’s warden. The person you’ve been trying to forget for a year. Zayne.

So, of course, you rush home, snatch your pet turtle from its cozy sunbathing spot, and dash off to Akso.

Arriving at the clinic, you push open the door, breathless from your frantic run. After a year apart, the silhouette you’ve yearned for stands right before you.

He turns to you with his usual calm demeanor. “What is it?” he asks, though the corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly.

Without a second thought, you place your pet turtle on the nearest table and rush toward him, wrapping your arms around him in a crushing hug. Then you pull back just enough to crash your lips against his. Before he can even react, you pull away again, eyes wide, your cheeks burning.

He chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Avoiding his gaze, you scoop up your pet turtle and cough lightly. “Dr. Zayne, I think my pet turtle might be sick. It’s been really lethargic. It doesn’t even want to sunbathe anymore. Can you take a look at it?”

Trying to hide your embarrassment—and your excitement—you straighten your posture and meet his eyes. His amusement is obvious. He’s trying not to laugh.

“Miss, this clinic only treats human patients,” he says, his smirk growing wider.

Your face burns up again. You bite your lower lip and close your eyes, mortified...

That’s when you hear his footsteps approach. You open your eyes to find him standing right in front of you, gently taking your hand in his.

Then, something rare—a smile curves on his lips, soft and unguarded. It’s fleeting but real, and you can’t help but mirror it. Your heart skips, and for a second, the tension feels lighter, almost electric. You suppose he’s just as excited as you.

You clear your throat, trying to regain a bit of control. “...I see” His smile grows, contagious and impossible to ignore.

“Well,” you say, this time with more confidence, “I think I’m coming down with something. Would you mind giving me a check-up?”

He holds your gaze, bringing your hand to his lips. “I don’t think this is how I’m supposed to treat my patients.” His voice drops slightly, warm and low, the flicker of desire in his eyes unmistakable.

He steps closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But for you… I might make an exception.”

Your heart races as he pulls back, his smirk sharp and teasing. He releases your hand, turning toward the hallway.

“Follow me, Miss,” he says, the slightest smirk playing at his lips.

As you follow him, your pulse quickening, you realize this is the treatment you’ve been waiting for—especially with Dr. Zayne.

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

Notes:

Pstttt there's another extended of the extended version! here

[tempo-takoyaki]

Update for the shop situation:

After a full week without answer from support and no other way to contact them properly (and I've tried everything, trust me), I don't think I'll ever get a detailed answer as to why they closed my shop. I suspect it's because I accidentally broke a law, but even then I'm not sure because I've checked legal documents and it doesn't seem to be the case. However, I can't deny that I've opened this shop too quickly, and most likely didn't double-checked the legal requirements correctly.

So here's how it's going to go:

Since you've spent money, I won't cancel any order. I will ship them between the end of March and early April as I've said I would, no matter the state of the shop, and will contact each buyer individually to confirm their adress and their order.

Anyone who ordered 2 fanzines will receive 2 fanzines even if I said to only order one. If you wish to be refunded of one zine, you can dm me so we can find a solution together.

For anyone who wants to pre-order, they will resume as soon as I get a new shop, and will be shipped alongside the ones ordered from the first shop.

In the mean time, I will check with professionals and contact my bank to see how to re-open a shop that won't get taken down this time. Maybe through another platform.

I'm taking down the link to my shop in my carrd since I don't have access to it anymore. Any order above the number 161 I haven't received.

Most importantly, I've received many message of support since the incident. I want to thank you all for being so patient and kind to me despite this monumental mistake. I will do my best to fix the issue so that pre-orders may resume on a new shop.

(On a side note one of the theories I have for my shop being taken down is the amount of money I got overnight... Victim of my success /jk)

Thank you so much, I'll try my best to deliver Almost TGCF to you again.

[wanderingblindly]

For the prompt game, I would love to know more about how the dynamic in Keep Talking developed, like when did one of them notice oh this could be a thing?

I think this falls into the spirit of the celebratory prompt game!!! so hell yeah thank you for sending this in love!!!! celebratory prompt list here!

That's actually a really interesting question, and not one that I can confidently say I put a lot of thought into when I wrote Keep Talking. When it comes to one shots, I often don't think far beyond the scope of the exact scene I want to chew on (mostly because it'll spiral wildly out of control if I do lol).

Of course, the reader is M O R E than welcome to decide what sort of context they want this landoscar to have -- none of it is in the fic, all of it is made up, etc etc but to meeeeeee:

I think that Lando seems to have some awareness in this fic, he also has a strong urge for comfort. He's struck with the feelings of isolation because he's been so close to oscar (for work) yet so far (no private time), which has a natural solution -- feel closer.

So I think that Lando, maybe earlier on in their relationship, would get quite clingy with Oscar when he started feeling This Way. Maybe he didn't know how to explain it exactly, but he knew what he needed. He needed Oscar close, he needed Oscar to make him feel safe and loved, he needed Oscar as close to inside his skin as possible for as long as possible.

But perhaps it was a little bit of trial and error.

I think it started with started with cuddling, Lando laying on top of Oscar before getting him to switch positions -- body seeking on the pressure. And maybe Lando tried fucking Oscar, tried getting Oscar to fuck him, but it all... it wasn't quite right. But he couldn't vocalize that well enough, couldn't explain why he was still so antsy and nervous and jittery despite everything being technically fine.

And so on one of these nights, with Lando riding Oscar on their couch -- Lando finally snaps a little. Oscar's right there, he's right there, and he's his. He's his and he's inside him, beside him, he's all that he can see and touch and smell. But it's not enough, it's not enough and it's killing him. So he cries, that sort of overwhelmed cry where you're not even sure what sparked it.

Oscar pulls him forward into his chest immediately, panicking that he's done something wrong. He asks Lando if he needs to pull out, if he hurt him, if he needs Oscar to leave -- and Lando shakes his head, unable to get the words out. But his hand rests on Oscar's chest like he wants him to stay exactly where he is, to let him lay there and cry, and so he does.

And he talks to him, soft and low, to try and pull him out of his own head.

And it works.

And that, I like to think, is how they stumbled into dynamic 🙂‍↕️

[silkiisso]

Eyeless Jack headcanons

Content Warning: my horrible grammar, MDNI, NSFW, breeding kink, primal play, jack is a literal demon with demon urges... I don't make the rules ✋️

A/N: songs I associate with him:

Body

-Age: unknown but 23 when turned so eternally 23

-Height: 6'9

-like toby he's pretty lean but Jesus the sleeper build on this anomaly 🙏🙏🙏 solid muscle

-Cat behavior!! purrs like a cat, getting comfortable he'll flex his claws, his flaws are retractable, big face nuzzler

-SPEAKING OF CLAWS they are black/ his Grey skin gradients to black at his fingers

-similar to his hands i think his pelvis also gradients to black at his dick

-also due to the whole demon thing he definitely has a knot... just sayin...

-Obvious has three tongues😏

-THE CANINES ON THIS MANN, while most of his teeth are shaper than average his canine are LONGGG

Personality

-he's pretty calm and collected most of the time, but if he's mad OH BOYY he can get aggressive

-quiet and reserved, but he makes the occasional smartass quip that'll have you double taking

-dry ass humor

-while he is a good listener, if you complain about something he definitely give you solutions and WILL be offended if you don't use his advice

-We all know he's smart and calculated, but he is very emotionally unintelligent.

-Due to losing most of his humanity, he doesn't view love like people do. He has a mate mentality, BUT since he's still at least a little human, he knows you're his partner, not just a plaything.

Relationship/nsfw

-PRIMAL like possessive, gentle aggression when intimate, marking, etc

-Definitely scent marks you. Going somewhere? He'll hold you down before you leave to rub himself on you like a cat.

-absolutely huge breeding kink. Will hold you down while going at it, growling "you'd love you have my kids, wouldn't you?" Looking you dead in the eye.

-although he lacks eyeballs, he's big on eye contact. Holds your jaw and forces your teary eyes to look at him while thrusting harder.

-while I do think he is more dominant and likes to control everything going on, every now and then, he can be easy to put in his place.

-not usual very vocal, but tie him up and edge him....this man is LOUDDD. Usual mean and commanding demonic voice is pathetic when he's begging to to cum.

-big on asphyxiation. his big hand on your delicate throat, blissed out and complete trust in him while knowing full well how easily he could crush your windpipe.

-no doubt he has a corruption kink. He like the thought of tainting your sweet little conscious with his disgusting fantasies.

-along with that, I think constantly he fights himself on how far to goes with things. Since again, he's a literal demon, he deep down really wants to see how far he can go before you actually get scared.

-i also completely agree he goes into ruts. Twice a year he locks himself in his room for a week, constantly throbing and severely needing to sink into something soft and warm. The slightest smell of you will send him over the edge, any time you walk by his door you can hear a loud shaky groan and quick slick noises.

Thanks for readinggg

[areyoudoingthis]

the thing about not fucking up my sleep schedule during the summer so that i don't end up having to suffer through a week of insomnia to fix it (aside from this being a new experience for me, usually i manage to unfuck up my sleep schedule in a day or two) is that staying up all night reading during the summer is literally the reason i stay alive. it may sound dramatic but i spend the whole work year subjecting myself to a hateful schedule of being up before the sun, and the reason i survive it is because i know come january I'll have night after night of reading for hours and hours and hours uninterrupted, peaceful quiet. I've been doing this since I was a child, it kept me going back then too, it's kept me going my whole life. i can't afford a lot of expensive pleasures like traveling, or buying that new gaming pc I've wanted for years, but i can stay up until 6am reading every day for a month. yes I'd love to avoid going through the hell week I've just endured ever again, but if you ask me to sacrifice my favorite summer passtime literally what's the point of being alive

[egophiliac]

did you ever consent to having your art reposted on Pinterest? that's actually how I found you (all of your twst comics are on Pinterest and some brave soul has gone through every single post saying "by egophiliac on Tumblr". the original posters never credit you either :/

nope...I have tried to ask people to take them down in the past, but I usually just get ignored. :') so I do appreciate that people are going through and adding credit, at least!

(the worst is when people actually edit out my signature/watermark to get around do-not-post lists...this has happened more often than you'd think 🙃)

[teganorsara]

Ali Ahn as Eidra Park and Ato Essandoh as Stuart Heyford in

THE DIPLOMAT 1.06

[raycatz]

something something my mom has always been very strict that my family eat healthy. Organic, no junk food, no sugar, etc. but it got to the point of starting to go on fad diets progressively cutting more and more out to try and see what might fix whatever health issue we might have had at the time. no milk. no eggs. no soy. no wheat. no white rice. whatever it was she had read was evil that week. It didn't lead to a very good relationship with food!

anyways this is just to say I am so glad to the summer camp I work at for how good the food is. I am so thankful that camp has the resources to provide us with so many options. when we make pack out requests I can ask for nearly anything. even things that aren't in the kitchen I can request for it to be brought up from a town run. I can even request individual items on recs on the side just for me or my staffmates. An individual yogurt. A single gluten free muffin. And because our kitchen staff are awesome they'll do that for us!

We rarely had strawberries at home 1) because they had to be organic and 2) because organic berries are expensive and my mom would always guilt trip us or point it out when when we got them. But at camp when cooking out it's really common to get strawberries. It's just something you can do. They're not organic and I don't care. I'm just happy to get to eat.

Desserts, too. There will sometimes be a camper who will go, "my mom doesn't want me eating sugar. I should only eat half." Kiddo I won't tell if you don't. Your mom isn't here. I'm happy if you eat and enjoy eating.

One of the things we're taught when trained is to not try and control the kid's eating and thank goodness for it! Just make sure they're eating something. If kiddo doesn't want to eat anything but cheerios for the week- that's fine. They're eating. Offer them what else is available but like, that's it that's enough.

If we have leftovers by the end of the week we'll keep what can be used next session and send the rest home with the campers. Last summer I sent a camper home with two loaves of bread and it was so funny watching them proudly show them off. Last summer kitchen was testing out a teriyaki turkey bacon recipe and they had sooo much leftover, but my unit liked it, and we were able to send all the kids home with a baggie of it. The was a session where we had a lot of leftover apples and dessert toppings so we had a candied apple party with lunch before sending the kids home on the bus. The kids were thrilled! On Mondays, the campers choose what they want to eat at cookouts for the week and then at the cookouts they're part of the process, getting to help start the fire, cook, clean. If they're older, we encourage and guide them to lead cookouts themselves.

There is no evil food. It's one of the most rewarding things to feed these kids!

[smolandweirdwriter]

Tell me about I'm not incompetent (but damn, you make me feel that way) BECAUSE I UNDERSTAND THAT REFERENCE

oooh yay! I'm not incompetent (but damn, you make me feel that way) is a fantasy high fic centering adaine and kristen junior year as they struggle with adhd. it's mostly a (VERY) self-indulgent fic about how neurodivergence is such a, well, diverse experience, even for people with the same neurological disorder/difference, and coming to terms with the fact that everyone's brains work differently, and that that should be a source of pride and joy rather than shame.

I'm pretty sure part of this also entails I provide an excerpt? so here you go-

"Yeah, but -- I mean, Aelwyn did it!" Adaine exclaimed.

Ah, Kristen thought. There it is. "I don't think those are exactly the same set of circumstances," she said, wishing she could find the right thing to say because so far it seemed she hadn't said it.

"You're right!" Adaine burst out. "Hers were harder! My sister managed to keep her grades absolutely perfect while helping an evil being rise to power while running a lucrative drug-dealing business while going to parties where she did said dealing to her classmates, and I never knew she was stressed, and neither did our parents. She managed it! And you're all managing it! And I'm…" Adaine slumped on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands as though doing so would make her shame go away. "Why am I not managing it?" she asked quietly, her voice cracking. "I have it easier than most of you, and I'm not managing it at all."

"Adaine…" Kristen said down on the bed next to her. "I'm not managing it. And I don't think Aelwyn was either."

[spiritedstars]

I hate going to the doctor's office. I always end up feeling like shit afterward.

[sillimancer]

me: people don't seem to hear me when I say I've tried everything to get a job. I've been doing this for over 6 months now. I promise you there is not an avenue I haven't explored. I've reached out to nonprofits and the government for emergency funds. I've applied to gig works and retail. I have an upwork. I've tried finding freelance opportunities. I've applied for jobs in-person, hybrid, and remote. I tailor my resumes and cover letters. I'm active on linkedin. I've done more work, put in more effort, studied harder, and talked to more people on this job hunt than I did for any actual job I've had or when getting my college degree. I haven't received a piece of advice I haven't already tried in months. I'm actually really sick of getting advice for this reason. the unsolicited advice makes me feel like people aren't listening and I get really mad when someone not only suggests something I've tried, but something that only a moron wouldn't have tried at this point.

the crisis line worker I'm texting: That sounds really hard and frustrating. Have you tried looking for remote work?

[drysauce]

im still thinking about yesterday when after the cinema i mentioned than when i get home i'll help one girlie from uni with her project because she's stuck to which one of my friends asked why am i helping some random girl instead of my roommate

[bluastro-yellow]

there's only one end-of-the-day debrief :'( ?!?

[connyhascontrol]

I went from doing a highly specific job at an agency to having a much broader set of tasks at a small company and still every day experts will call me to offer their services for some of those tasks and I have to be like