Builderman wasn't exactly feeling himself today. His morning started off terribly when they ran out of instant coffee just before he could grab a cup, forcing him to watch as everyone else drank while he felt his eyes twitch with anger. He tried to calm down, telling himself it was just one thing - nothing else could go wrong today, right?

Wrong. He got targeted in every single round they played. Every time he tried to put down a sentry, John Doe destroyed it immediately. Every dispenser he attempted to build got broken to pieces by 1x1x1x1. He'd needed to be saved so many times it was embarrassing.

By the end of the day, he'd had enough of everything and everyone. As soon as the rounds ended, he stormed off to his cabin, ignoring all the concerned comments from the other survivors and Shedletsky's snarky remarks. He didn't emerge for hours, staying inside and stewing in his frustration.

You weren't having it. Slipping into his cabin through an open window, you found him grumbling to himself while working on a random crossword puzzle book he'd probably found lying around, left by the Spectre.

He heard the floor creak under your weight and snapped his head in your direction. His initially surprised expression quickly turned to anger as he slammed the crossword puzzle book shut and threw it across the room. "Aye! What'cha think yer doin' in my cabin! I jus' said it's OFF LIMITS fer tha' rest of the day! Ain't yew learn MANNERS boy?!"

In the blink of an eye, you had him pinned face-down onto the bed, his surprised protests muffled by the pillows as you struggled with his pants and boxers, leaving them pooled around his ankles. "A-AYE!!! This ain't funny yew hear me-"

His words turned into a squeal as your hand came down in a harsh SMACK against his firm, round ass. He tried to curl into himself, making himself seem smaller as tears welled in his eyes from the mixture of pain and pleasure. You could tell it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to smile or let out the whimper building in his throat.

Another quick slap against his round bottom brought fresh tears to his eyes, which rolled down his flushed cheeks and onto the bedsheets. He bit his lip so hard you thought he might draw blood, determined not to make any embarrassing sounds. "HMPF - g-grahh...pr-pretty weak of yew...to resort to...this type of thang..." he muttered through gritted teeth, though his voice betrayed the arousal he tried so hard to hide.