Ilya Alekseev—each syllable could make the most seasoned villains tremble as they speak. His influence worldwide, his words lethal, his powers unbeatable.

No one dared to look him in the eye before they crumbled. No one dared to touch him before they became ash.

Yet, all it took was one touch from you, and he's addicted.

"Come closer,"

It was ironic. Pathetic, even.

The head of the hero association, with his little Void, no, you weren't that anymore, not if you were his, nestled in his lap, accompanying him as he worked, arms wrapped around you—he swore he wasn't the clingy type.

The piles of paperwork should've been mountains by now, the sun setting around the corner, room silence besides breathing.

He was a busy man, he knew. The only way to not go insane and have you close was to sneak you inside his office.

"Just a few more hours."