kbstanny

[kbstanny]

hyperpigmentation my beloved

Art date

[kbstanny]

-ˋˏ ༻ ˎˊ- Masterlist -༺ ˎˊ-

Asks and requests are open!

AO3: kbstanny

Love and Deepspace:

✿ Zayne

Treatment

✿ Rafayel

Thanks For Nothing

Three For A Girl (Thanks For Nothing pt.2)

Hetalia:

✿ Russia

Relationship Headcanons

[kbstanny]

Three For A Girl (Rafayel x Reader)

✿Fandom: Love and Deepspace

✿Pairing: M/F

✿Rating: NSFW

✿Tags: smut, make-up sex, possessive behaviour, cunnilingus, foreplay

✿Word count: 3,877

She is forced to face Rafayel again after their disastrous last encounter. Sequel to Thanks For Nothing

✿A/N at the end!

She had one less job to worry about after that catastrophic failure of an evening with Rafayel.

Rafayel and a waiter had collided at one of his exhibitions, entirely by accident, and the painter had managed to bruise his back in the process. All the while, his bodyguard had been entertaining a handsome gentleman over at the bar. To make up for her misdeeds, she's cooked him dinner, but she'd left with her tail between her legs as their steamy tryst had left her leaving less than satisfied. She was moments away from orgasm when he'd reached his climax, and the moment he did, he'd ended their lovemaking, kicking her out, making her head home late at night horny and enraged. 

Truthfully, he was lucky she hadn't killed him.

She'd been absolutely furious after the way he'd treated her, and impulsively, she quit the position as his bodyguard. And she didn't regret it. Despite Rafayel's surprisingly desperate pleading with her over a litany of texts and phone calls:

______________________________________________________________

  Thurs 09:14

Rafayel: i know you're mad but you can't just quit.

  Thurs 09:15

❌ Missed voice call from Rafayel

Thurs 09:21

❌ Missed voice call from Rafayel

  Thurs 09:30

Rafayel: im sorry. lemme make it up to you. dinner?

  Thurs 09:58

❌ Missed voice call from Rafayel

Thurs 17:41

❌ Missed video call from Rafayel

Today 00:12

❌ Missed video call from Rafayel

Today 10:23

❌ Missed voice call from Rafayel 

Today 13:07

❌ Missed video call from Rafayel

  Today 19:24

Rafayel: hello????

  Today 19:27

❌ Missed voice call from Rafayel

  Today: 19:29

You: Fuck off. 

you have blocked Rafayel.

______________________________________________________________

Despite the overwhelming sense of relief she felt after pressing the block button, she  had a sneaking suspicion that things just wouldn't end there — That he'd find some way, somehow, to weasel back into her life. She wasn't sure why. He didn't know where she lived, besides from the city of Linkon, nor was he close with any of her colleagues, and it wasn't as if they'd tell him anyway. And then it hit her, like an avalanche, crushing her rebellion with one fell swoop.

Her gun.

That night, Rafayel had snatched her gun from its holster, played a rather cruel joke on her, before stowing it away at the top of the cabinets. And in her blinding rage, she'd forgotten to take it back before she stormed out of the door.

This wouldn't have been a problem if it was truly her gun. She'd simply accept the loss and buy another. However, this gun wasn't really hers, but a loan from the Hunter's Association. Not only would they certainly account for it missing and demand she return it, but they wouldn't be pleased to know she'd borrowed it not to fight Wanderers, but to assist her with her side-gig being Rafayel's bodyguard. If she didn't get that gun back before the end of the week, the consequences could be serious. 

In the end, she'd decided to face Rafayel alone. 

She couldn't tell her superiors, and her peers wouldn't have the authority to search and seize from Rafayel's home by themselves. As humiliating as it was to knock on the door to Rafayel's studio again, she knew it had to be done. It would be simple, really — she'd be in and out, and she'd remain headstrong. She couldn't let his silver tongue talk her into bed this time, despite the generous legroom the thought of him still occupied in her heart. 

At first, her knocks got no response, so she knocked again.

"Alright! Alright! So impatient. I'm coming!" She heard him snap from the other side, then the crescendo of footsteps, until his face popped into view. His hair was messy, and his shirt plastered in red paint.

"Wha-"

Rafayel's expression went from peeved to shocked in an instant. 

"You! I didn't expect you to..." He blinked at her, before shuffling to the side of the door to let her in. She'd never seen him so awkward.

"I'm not here to talk to you, so don't even try." She shut him down instantly, striding straight past him. He stopped her mid step however, blocking her path with his arm.

"Then why are you here? You can't just waltz into my home without telling me why!"

"I left my gun here last time, I need to pick it up." She spoke blankly, shoving his arm out of the way as she continued to storm to the kitchen. Unfortunately for her, Rafayel was quicker, and he darted in front of her, shutting the kitchen door and blocking her path. She sighed.

"Rafayel, move out of the way." 

"Nope. Not until you hear me out." She could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of mirth in Rafayel's expression. Immediately, she flew into a rage. 

"Fuck you!" She roared. "I don't care about hearing you out! You completely humiliated me, you fucking bastard!" She smacked her hands against his shoulders, trying to push him out the way, punish him, expel her anger, all of it. 

"Hey, hey, hey. Calm down." 

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down!"

"Sorry! Okay, I'm sorry!" Rafayel sounded exasperated, pushing her arms against her sides to stop her slapping. 

"I was an asshole, I know that, and I really am genuinely sorry. Okay? I went too far." His voice was calm, his eyes locked on hers, though she looked down, desperate to avoid his gaze, to push down the lump that was forming in her throat. 

"And if I'm being honest, I didn't actually expect you to leave when I kicked you out... You're usually way too stubborn to do what you're told." He couldn't help but smirk, bringing his palm gently to her cheek. She slapped it away.

"Why the fuck would I want to stay with you after you did that to me?" She snapped, and Rafayel frowned again. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me." He tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him, but she jutted it out of his grasp. 

"Get off me!" 

"Aw, c'mon cutie!" 

"No!" She began thrashing again, slapping his hand as she kept turning her head away from him. 

The room spun around her, Rafayel's various paintings around them blurring into magnificent oceanic hues. Even now she couldn't help but marvel at his brilliance, too much so to notice the paint from his shirt and hands transferring onto her own clothing. But her head stopped at one point, her eyes catching a glimpse of a painting unlike the others. When she stopped to look, she saw her own face staring back at her.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen one of Rafayel's portraits, yet there she was, in a relatively small frame, sat in an easel. Clearly unfinished. She was quiet as she looked at it. How had Rafayel captured her likeness so well? From what was completed of the painting, she couldn't recognise it from any photograph of her, wearing an elegant red dress she knew she didn't own. 

"Do you like it?" Rafayel asked gently. She finally turned to look at him, gobsmacked. He was smiling back at her. "It's nowhere near finished, so don't judge it too harshly." 

Slowly, they both began to approach the painting, and as they did, the details became clearer: The silky texture of her dress, the strands of her hair, the nuances of her expression she hadn't thought anybody but her had noticed. 

"Why are you painting me?" That was the most obvious question that sprung to mind, and Rafayel scoffed, though his tone wasn't mocking.

"For the same reason I paint the ocean, and the sand and the sky: I paint what inspires me. I paint what brings me joy, what makes me feel at peace. And as a bonus, you all happen to be beautiful." 

His words took her by surprise. They were genuinely romantic. She couldn't help but look a little confused, and despite her better judgement, flustered. She was beyond flattered, that Rafayel looked at her with such reverence, and at the idea that she could ever be compared to the ocean. If her portrait wasn't staring back at her, she would have thought Rafayel's words to be some sort of twisted joke. 

For a few moments she was lost for words, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. "I'm nowhere near that beautiful." She gestured to the painting. He  smiled, wrapping an arm around her side.

"You're right. Your beauty surpasses my painting abilities a thousand times over. But I tried my best." 

She was stunned. 

He pulled her closer, resting his hand on her shoulder, caressing it gently as she tried to process the weight of his words. 

"I'm sorry about the other day." He apologised again. "I just want you all to myself. I can't help but get mad when I see you so cosy with someone else." He trailed his fingers slowly across her skin, over her collarbones, up her neck. 

"You're supposed to be my bodyguard. You're supposed to be by my side. All for me." His voice was gentle, but undoubtedly possessive, his fingers burning hotter and hotter, until they were cool to the touch once more.

"But I shouldn't have punished you like that. I took it too far." 

"You did." 

Rafayel leant in to press a kiss to the side of her head. She practically melted beneath him. She'd missed him. She'd missed him even when he wasn't so charming and caring, when it seemed as if the only thing he wanted from her was sex. And she'd missed the times when he'd take her to the cinema, or for lunch, insisting he needed his bodyguard, and for a brief window they almost felt like a couple. Like always, it took very little for her to fall victim to his charms.

Slowly, his lips found her shell of her ear, his hot breath making her heart flutter as he spoke in a whisper. "Let me make it up to you."

Her brows furrowed. He slunk behind her, his hands on her waist. She knew exactly what he was getting at. 

"You know I know exactly how to make you feel good. Just let me." He kissed the tip of her ear, tipping her chin toward him so that she was looking him in the eye.

At once, she kissed him.

Their lips collided hungrily, without haste, she kissed him as if he were disappearing, like she was trying to suck at his heart before he left her forever. But he wasn't going anywhere, and his grip on her waist grew tighter. 

He broke the kiss to bring his lips to her neck, parrying her enthusiam, smooching at the sensitive flesh with a heat that made her whine. 

Then, he tugged at her wrist, and quickly pulled her to his bedroom.

He sat on the bed, then pulled her to his lap, and she happily straddled him, taking his face in her hands to kiss him once more, battling away her doubts and frustrations with her lips. 

Rafayel wasted no time, grabbing the hem of her top and pulling it over her head, then reaching down to unbutton her jeans. He smiled at her, his hands snaking round to cup her ass. 

"I've been thinking about you everyday since you left." He huffed out, his lips peppering pecks along her chest, down her cleavage. "I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you again." 

She sighed at his affections, her arousal quickly pooling between her legs, quivering at his ministrations, all his deft and careful touches. 

He held her gently now, his thumbs caressing her hips, tucking beneath the waistband of her underwear. Rafayel brought one hand up to unclasp her bra, then pulled it from her shoulders. Her nipples stuck out brazen and hard for him.

The way he dragged her tongue across her skin was so lascivious it nearly made her want to shy away. His eyes burned like a blue flame, holding her gaze as he painted her skin. His tongue thinned out as he licked between her breasts, then flattened as he covered their swell, until it smoothed over her areola. He held her nipple in his mouth, his teeth latching on lightly to the bud as he pulled his head away, taking her breast with him before releasing it. Rafayel smiled, that cheeky boyish smile that always got her heart racing. 

"You're so beautiful." 

Her cheeks felt hot as he continued to please her, his hand cupping her bosom, playing with her nipples as he left a series of lovebites on and around her breasts. The pain only amplified her pleasure, her restless hands threading through Rafayel's hair to relieve some tension.

His hand then smoothly slipped past the opening in her jeans, to slide over her folds, over her underwear. Her breath wavered, and she impulsively bucked against him. 

"Your panties are soaking wet." He noted, his eyes flashing with delight. "You must've really missed me, huh?" 

She scoffed, but didn't deny it. 

"It's okay," He slipped his fingers under her underwear, pressing at her wet and swollen clit. "I missed you too. So much." 

Her legs quaked as his middle finger worked her clit, teasing it in the way he knew she loved. Until he stopped, pulling his hand up and patting at her crotch. Memories of last time shot fear through her heart.

"Take your pants off." 

Relief came quickly and she smiled, standing to strip down completely, taking off her shoes too, before sitting back down on Rafayel's lap. He dipped his head to the place where her neck and shoulder connects, kissing her skin fervently, while his hand resumed its position between her legs. 

Rafayel slid his fingers between her folds, teasing along the ripples of her cunt, finding her clit again and circling it, upping the pace. She moaned, loud and desperate, and when she cast her gaze downwards she noticed the wet patch she'd made on Rafayel's pants. 

Slowly, he plunged his fingers inside of her, drawing out the motion as long as he could to revel in her reactions. He watched her as he did so, the bulge in his pants growing at the sight of her, the way her face was contorted in pleasure. The wet sounds of her arousal rang through the room, embarrassing her, but Rafayel didn't cease, increasing the pace of his fingers. 

"You're mine now, you realise that?" He asked, his voice deceptively sweet. "You're mine and I'm yours. And I won't let anything get in the way of that." 

She moaned at his words, her heart fluttering. In this moment, they sounded so right.

He picked up the pace, bringing his thumb to furiously flick at her clit. She tightened uselessly against him, her arousal too prominent to create any friction. 

"Say it." He commanded. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours!" She gasped. She didn't even have to think about it. "I'm yours and you're mine." 

He smiled, kissing her shoulder. "That's right. Good girl." 

Her head felt dizzy, and in her frenzy, she began to ride his fingers, moaning into her palm until it was swiftly snatched away. 

"No. Let me hear you." He whispered, pushing past the cramp in his wrist to keep pumping into her. 

Already she was close, moments from release.

"Now come for me." 

His command set her off, and her body reacted instinctively, moaning sharply as she sprayed a pool of ejaculate against his hand. 

He slowed down as he rode her through her orgasm, though he kept his fingers inside of her, caressing her walls softly as she settled down. 

"Perfect." He cooed, "That's to make up for last time." 

Then he took his fingers out and stood, lifting her with him, only to turn around and lie her back down on the bed. He crawled over her, leaning towards her lips to peck them tenderly. "And this is for fun."

He trailed his kisses downwards, planting pecks on her neck, between her chest, over her navel, then back down to the hill of her cunt. Rafayel wrapped his arms around both of her thighs, pulling them apart, before continuing his crusade between her legs. 

Rafayel's tongue was wet and hot against her, sucking up the traces of her last orgasm with a dizzying enthusiasm. Just as her lust had simmered down, it began to spark again, her whole body quickly becoming tight from the pressure. 

At first, Rafayel's tongue was soft, careful, stroking her folds experimentally. She mewled, her toes curling, her hands on his shoulders. 

He flattened his tongue, spreading it generously over her vulva, smiling at the way she trembled around him. His lips closed around her clit, sucking sweetly at the swollen bud. When she looked down, she saw his eyes staring back at her, and his predatory gaze made her gasp. 

Rafayel began to flick his tongue against her clit, starting at a quick pace, steadying his head as she bucked against him. Her arms and legs trembled, her body fatigued from the last orgasm, but her lust desperate for another.

"You taste magnificent." He mumbled against her folds, burying his lips deeper against her, kissing against her opening. Rafayel narrowed his tongue, and with his fingers spread her open, slipping inside of her, penetrating her like an arrow.

She moaned, biting down at her lip, clenching around him. The sound of his tongue fucking her was deliciously lewd, and she tipped her head back, sinking deeper into the sheets. He groaned against her, his breath hot like smoke, and she flinched, her skin tingling intensely.

He brought his tongue again to her clit, flicking at it quick and concentrated. Again, she began to whine, her climax building inch by inch inside of her. 

Her breath fluttered, her limbs feeling heavy as Rafayel persisted, ceaseless, showing no signs of stopping.

"That's good– just like that." She could barely choke the words out between her gasps and whines, reaching over to grab his hand. He squeezed it back. 

She clenched her eyes shut, rolling her hips against him, the heat in her core building thick and fast.

"I'm-" Was all she could manage as her second orgasm neared, and Rafayel continued, flicking faster until he tasted her sticky release on his tongue. Her skin was hot with sweat, her legs trembling, and exhaustion washed over her once again. Rafayel licked her clean, slowly, teasing her into overstimulation, before withdrawing his head.

Beneath her was a large wet patch. He sat up leaning over her, his lips glistening with her wetness. Rafayel smiled down at her, connecting their lips in a tender kiss. She kissed back languidly, snaking her hand to the back of his neck. 

He sat back, unbuckling his pants.

"And this... is because I like you so much." He winked, before stopping himself, noting how tired she seemed. "That is if you can handle me."

She looked back at him, a competitive flare sparking within her chest. As tired as she was, she longed longed to feel him. "I can handle you."

Rafayel chuckled, leaning down, peppering kisses along her neck. "Good, because I'm desperate to be inside of you." 

He slipped his erection from out of his pants, lifting her hips and angling them towards him. 

Despite how wet she was, the stretch of his length still made her gasp. He entered her slowly, letting her adjust to him, holding her flush against him.

"That's right." He sighed, his breath shaky, glad to finally get some relief. His hand smoothed up and down her side soothingly, helping her relax. Rafayel's lips found hers again, kissing her as he pushed up to his hilt. Never had their sex felt so intimate, so worthy of the term 'lovemaking'. 

He set his pace, slow at first, drawing out to his tip then delving deep inside of her, making the process as sedate as possible, just to hear the way she whined, to leave her begging for more. It wasn't long before she got vocal.

"Go faster, please." She moaned, and Rafayel was happy to oblige.

"Whatever my princess wants."

He picked up the pace, leaning back to admire her form, how her breasts jiggled with every thrust. His hands found her nipples again, pinching at them playfully, massaging the delicate flesh of her bosom. She brought her hands to his arms, feeling up his muscles, admiring the way they glistened under his sweaty skin. 

"You like that?" He asked, his tone seductive, and she smiled.

"Yes." 

"Such a good girl."

Once Rafayel found his rhythm, he brought two fingers to her lips, slipping past them easily as she took them in her mouth to suck. The sight of her like this was nearly enough to make him finish right then and there, and already, she could sense her third orgasm rising.

He brought his other hand between her legs, parting her folds to play with her clit again, more delicately than he had before. She mewled against his fingers, the pleasure striking as a sweet sharp jab up her spine, and she arched her back, sliding downwards to feel him closer.

Rafayel brought his fingers from out of her mouth, only to sift them through her hair, gripping in just the right way, not to hurt her, but to add to her sensations.

She moaned loud, the sound heavy and raw, her tone wavering as his hips slapped into her. He'd picked up his pace considerably without realising, his thumb on her clit fast and light. He worked her body like a technician at a machine, pushing all the right buttons at the perfect time, in a way only he knew how to. She couldn't form words when her orgasm hit, but it was clear when she had, spraying him in the accumulation of her lust. 

Again, her body went limp, collapsing into the bed, gasping desperately for air. Now she was spent. There wasn't an ounce of energy left in her body, and seeing this, Rafayel stopped thrusting.

He pulled out of her and smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. 

"Did you enjoy that, cutie?" She couldn't help but chuckle.

"I did... but I'm sorry, I really don't think I can keep going..." Her eyes trailed down to Rafayel's erection, still rock hard. When she met his gaze again, he was still smiling.

"Consider it... revenge." They both laughed at that. Rafayel lay down beside her, pulling her against his chest. 

"So, do you forgive me?" He asked the question carefully, his fingers gently playing with her hair. She brought a hand to her chin to stroke it in mock contemplation.

"Hm..." She teased. "I suppose so. I can't really argue with three orgasms, can I?" 

"No, you really can't." Rafayel pressed a peck to her lips. 

For a few blissful moments, they enjoyed the quiet, sitting in silence save from the rise and fall of their breaths. Until Rafayel spoke up again.

"Oh, by the way, I returned your gun a couple days back." 

A/N: One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret never to be told. Maybe seven orgasms is a bit excessive, but reader definitely deserved three after what she went through last time lol. I hope you enjoyed!

[kbstanny]

Thanks For Nothing (Rafayel/Reader)

✿Fandom: Love and Deepspace

✿Pairing: M/F

✿Rating: NSFW

✿Tags: smut, jealousy, orgasm denial, possessive behaviour, taunting, rough sex

✿Word count: 2,360

Rafayel's bodyguard has been neglecting her duties, so he decides to teach her a lesson.

✿A/N at the end!

"I should fire you!"

Rafayel was furious. More furious than she'd ever seen him, stomping across the kitchen as she prepared his dinner. His latest exhibition for his newest collection had been going ever so well, but an altercation had brought a sour end to the night. An altercation that never would have happened if his bodyguard had been paying better attention.

So he'd brought her back to his home, demanding that she make recompense for her carelessness by cooking him dinner. And, feeling guilty, she obliged.

"I pay you well, really well! I take you out to lunch, to museums, I give you more than you deserve and you just throw it back in my face!" He was ranting, his hands on his hips as he huffed and puffed, his cheeks all red. She couldn't help but find the sight a little amusing.

"Rafayel, relax. You're fine, aren't you?" She couldn't take him all too seriously, as Rafayel, like usual, was overreacting. He did not like her answer, or her tone.

"Anything could have happened! I could have been killed! And nothing would have happened had you been doing your job!"

"Nothing did happen! You have a little bruise on your back, that's all!" She retorted. She hadn't realised at first just how upset he was about the whole thing.

He walked right up to her, a scowl on his face.

"It's not little!" He tugged up his shirt to show her the purple mark, no bigger than an egg.

"You've shown me a hundred times already."

"I'll show you a hundred more! Until you start taking being my bodyguard seriously!" He pouted in that childish way that sometimes made her squirm, or smile, depending on her mood.

"I am sorry, Rafayel." She spoke with a sigh, placing a lid on the pot of simmering stew. "But this is gonna taste so good you'll forget all about it." She smiled at him, but he didn't return it, his eyes narrowing, going silent for a few moments.

"You were trying to get under my skin back there, with that guy." He accused, his voice losing its childish whine, taking on a tone more sinister. "I know you were. You were all over him."

Rafayel didn't back away, looking down his nose at her, nostrils slightly flared. "Sat there, sipping wine at the bar like butter wouldn't melt. Throwing yourself at any handsome idiot who gave you attention."

She scoffed at him, folding her arms, looking straight back up at him with a challenging gaze. "And so what if I was?" She challenged. "You're not my boyfriend, I can do as I please." Her eyes lit up with a playful flare. "Are you jealous?"

He took a small step forward, and when she tried to step away, she realised she was caged in, pressed tight against the counter. Yet she wouldn't drop her guard, staring back at Rafayel unphased. Anger twitched across his face.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" His hand trailed up the split in her dress, his long fingers dusting delicately against the plush skin of her thigh. She looked radiant in her dark sequin gown, not at all professional, completely unequipped to protect her client, save for one secret weapon. Though it didn't stay a secret for long.

Rafayel plunged his hand up her dress, yanking her gun from its holster in one swift motion.

"I'm afraid stew isn't going to make up for what you did." There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one that actually frightened her. She gasped, reaching out for the gun, but he held it high.

"That's not funny, put that down!" She commanded, but Rafayel only laughed.

"What's the matter, Miss Bodyguard? You don't like feeling unprotected?" He teased, cocking a brow. She groaned, wrestling fruitlessly against him, but he only held her gun higher.

"Rafayel! Stop being stupid!"

"What's stupid is flirting with some random guy at work while your boss is watching." He chided. "Were you gonna go home with him?"

"What? No!"

"I bet you would've. He was getting real touchy with you." Rafayel teased, leaning in closer, smoothing his hand up the opening of her dress, cupping her hip.

He looked her in the eye. He was smiling, dangerously at first, before his devilish expression twisted into that familiar, boyish grin. He placed the gun atop a tall cabinet — out of the way. She released a breath, unaware she'd had one trapped in her throat in the first place.

With his newly freed hand, he grabbed her other hip, lifting her up so that she was sat on the counter before him.

"You fucking asshole." She spat, shoving him away, though he barely budged, laughing, his hands still holding her hips.

"You can't seriously think I was going to shoot you? I'm an artist, not an assassin."

His eyes had softened some, though much of the bitterness he'd harboured in them before had evolved into lust, and he drank in her figure with a lascivious gaze. She noticed a tent growing in his pants.

"I never know what stupid thing you're going to do next."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Rafayel closed the gap between them, catching her lips in a quick but passionate kiss, pulling her forward to press her core flush against his bulge. She huffed, and her arousal swelled.

Goddamnit. How did he have this sort of control over her? No matter how mad at him she was, just one flash of that smile, one wink of his impossible sunset eyes and she folded.

His hands smoothed up from her hips, to her waist, then to her back, locating the zip to her dress and pulling it down slowly. Rafayel broke the kiss, sliding the garment down her shoulders to reveal her breasts.

His slender fingers cupped at her bosom, gently pinching her hardened nipples, slowly teasing her cunt with his clothed erection. She moaned, her lust dampening her underwear. Rafayel chuckled.

"Getting worked up already huh?" He teased, and she curled her leg around his thighs, pulling him closer. Rafayel pinched her nipples tightly, earning a little squeal from his bodyguard.

"You're lucky I still wanna fuck you. Seeing you with that guy really put me off." He stopped pinching to unbutton his pants. She scowled.

"Get over it would you?" She jabbed, swiftly sliding down her panties.

He tutted, pooling up her dress at her waist and spreading her legs, baring her glistening cunt. Rafayel parted her folds with his thumb, gently circling her clit with the digit.

"You have such an attitude. You really should be more grateful, considering you're such a bad bodyguard."

She whined, heat flushing over her body as Rafayel touched her. She looked back at him, defiant, she couldn't take his smug expression despite how turned on she was.

"A... a waiter tripped into you– and you fell over!" She huffed the words out through her mewls. "It's hardly like– you were attacked!"

At that, he slid a finger inside of her, expelling the words from her mouth in one simple motion. She gasped from the pleasure, her mouth gaping like a fish, and he grinned at the sight of her. He gave her little time to adjust before sliding in a second finger, pumping in and out of her mound at a fervent pace.

"What was that? You got something to say?" He taunted, but she could only whimper, her defenses melting against him with ease. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

She'd been over this routine with Rafayel a hundred times already: They'd fall out over something ridiculous, more often than not it was his fault, but it didn't take them long at all before they were all over each other again, extinguishing their squabbles over sex. It usually worked a treat, and she certainly wasn't complaining. Any complaints she might have had poofed into dust with one click or pump of his fingers. She was completely wrapped around them, at his mercy.

"You're so wet for me, cutie." He chimed, picking up the pace. Rafayel's voice was smooth and composed, yet the look in his eye was anything but. There was a fire in his gaze that burned so bright it put his Evol to shame.

She moaned, her eyes shutting as she desperately tensed around him, trying to draw as much friction as she could with her lubricious walls. It was akin to trying to grasp a slippery bar of soap in one's hands. Rafayel drew his fingers out of her with a resounding pucker.

He quickly whipped his erection out from his underwear, readying it at her dripping cunt. He was very thick, especially at the head, with more than enough length to satisfy her aching lust. Rafayel brought his tip to her lips, coating it in her wetness and sliding himself teasingly against her folds. Impatient, she tried to slide herself around him, but he stopped her with a firm clamp to her thigh.

"Nuh-uh. If you want it, you'll have to say please ."

She looked up at him, scowling despite her desperation, and he sent a shit-eating grin back at her. Rafayel was loving every minute of this. He knew she wasn't capable of refusing him.

For a few moments, she was silent, but as a particularly persuasive jolt of pleasure shot down her spine, she soon changed her mind.

"Please." She whined, her tone earnest but scathing. It was good enough for Rafayel. With a shaky breath, he entered her.

By now, she was used to the glorious way he felt inside of her. She loved the initial pinch of his fat head against her walls, no matter how aroused she was, he always required a little bit of adjustment. Just one stroke and she was filled instantly, so satisfied she could have orgasmed merely from the warming sensation of him inside of her. Once Rafayel's cock was completely engulfed, he began to fuck her, and far from delicately.

One of his hands snaked its way to her backside, spreading its grip over her rump and hip, guiding her movements. His other hand roamed to her chest, bouncing and massaging her breasts. She moaned, loud, wrapping her legs around his hips to keep him close.

Rafayel dipped his head, catching her mouth in a quick kiss, one with a heat that lingered on her lips, before he trailed those kisses down her neck, to her collarbone, nipping at it restlessly. She had to muffle the sounds with her palm, her eyelids squeezed tightly shut as she tried to compose herself. But Rafayel quickly snatched her wrist, pinning her arm to the wall behind them.

He sank his teeth into the tautest section of her neck, biting harshly, before soothing the bruise with his tongue. The sounds of his grunts and groans reverberated against her, making her sensitive skin ripple like the sea beneath a skipping stone. She clung desperately to his back, her only outlet for the intense pressure in her body.

He pulled away, looking back at her, though he didn't cease, pounding feverishly into her pussy. Rafayel looked a little disheveled, with his hair touseled and clothes sticky from the heat, but compared to her he was the picture of perfection. She looked a mess, with angry bruises peppering her skin, which was hot and sticky from sweat.

"You like that, don't you?" He purred, knowing full well what her answer would be. "Aren't you a lucky girl?" He pinched her nipple, tightly. "Aren't you lucky that I'm fucking you after what you did?"

"So lucky." She slurred, her fighting spirit had melted entirely at the command of his hips, moaning uselessly as he slammed into her. Rafayel looked intense, as if he was about to burst any minute. He took a firm hold of her jaw.

"Good girl." His voice was deceptively soft, the condescending tone all but undetectable when his arousal was so potent.

Then somehow, Rafayel managed to thrust even faster, his hips jackhammering into her at a dizzying pace, making tears sting her eyes and her thighs quiver uncontrollably. A big, hard knot formed in her stomach, sending a wave of heat that wracked her form.

"Ra- Raf- I'm!" She rasped, but he came first, shooting streams of hot and sticky spend deep inside of her swollen core. He heaved heavy breaths, pulling out of her with a wet thunk. She still hadn't finished. She'd been so close, and still she was so expectant, clenching her walls and whining at the loss of pressure as his seed oozed out of her.

But still he huffed and puffed, a dazed grin on his face, looking back smugly at the desperate mess he'd created on the counter. She wanted— needed him back, badly.

"I'm so close Raf, can you just...?" She gestured, a little frustrated. But Rafayel made no effort to assist her, wiping his cock down and tucking it back into his pants.

"And where were you tonight? When I needed you?" Her heart sank at his words.

"You can't be fucking serious–"

"Oh, I'm completely serious."

And one look his way confirmed that. She was so mad she thought she might cry.

"It hurts, doesn't it? When someone isn't there for you when you need them most? When you're waiting, desperately, for them to come back and finish what they started, to do their job, but they never do?"

He was taunting her now, but she said nothing, staring daggers at him. The thick bubbling of the stew filling the tense and silent kitchen. He sauntered over to the pot, taking a spoon and sipping the meaty broth. He hummed.

"Mm. Y'know, you're right — this might actually be good enough to make me forget all about it." He grinned, grabbing a bowl and dishing himself up. She stared back at him, rage bubbling behind her eyes, but her body was frozen in place.

Rafayel looked unphased, taking his bowl and walking away. "You can go now." And with that, he switched off the kitchen light and retired to his room for the night.

A/N: Sorry I made him so mean 😭 hope you enjoyed anyway! I think I'll write a sweet pt.2 to make up for it

[kbstanny]

Treatment (Zayne/Reader)

✿ Fandom: Love and Deepspace

✿ Pairing: M/F

✿ Tag: NSFW

✿ Mentions: smut, mild injury mentions

✿ Word count: 5,051

✿ Summary: She had no choice but to see Dr. Zayne for treatment after a Wanderer left her injured, but his cure for her anguish wasn't quite what she had in mind.

✿ A/N: Hey! This my first fic on this website, and it's on a game I only started playing a week ago 😭

Because I'm a new player, I don't really know the world or the story very well, so if there are inaccuracies then you know why. However, I've also avoided specific plot details for this very reason.

I hope you enjoy!

Damned Knave.

She tightly gripped the gash on her thigh, limping her way down the dark deserted path. She'd received reports of disturbances down at the old munitions factory and had gone to investigate. Wanderers had been sighted after hours, so she'd gone late into the evening, and solo, as her ever-elusive partner had been unavailable. She'd handled herself fine, but a rather tricky Knave had managed to cut right through the top of her thigh.

Once she eventually hobbled her way to a street lamp, she could investigate her injuries properly. Shakily, she removed her blood-stained hands from the wound, then hummed — It didn't look too severe. The gash was long, but not so deep, stretching from her inner thigh up toward her hip. The blood made things a lot nastier than they needed to be, and the pain was bearable, at least for now. She'd hail a taxi and treat the damage at home, and if it didn't feel much better by morning, she'd consult her physician. But Dr. Zayne was a last resort.

Once morning came, she did not feel better.

The pain woke her up before her alarm did. It stung intensely, and the surrounding skin was hot and numb. Clearly rubbing alcohol, a cocktail of painkillers and gauze wasn't going to cut it. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandage to take a look at her injury — it still didn't seem too bad. Inflamed, a little gnarly, but far from incapacitating. Just painful. But she'd faced foes much fiercer than some stupid Herte Knave, and obtained injuries far more gruesome. For now, she'd suck it up. She had a job to do.

—

"Oh my god!" Tara gasped. "When did that happen?" Her friend asked her, leaning in to the picture on her phone. She'd snapped the pic before getting ready for work this morning, thinking it would be a funny story to tell to Tara at the office. But her friend's reaction was a little more alarmed than she'd anticipated.

"Last night, at the factory. There were some serious beasts down there, but you wanna know caused that? A Knave of all things." She chuckled, shaking her head. Tara didn't look so amused.

"Aren't you hurt? Have you been to the doctor?"

"It's just a scratch, Tara, I'll be fine."

"That is not just a scratch! That needs stitches!—"

"What needs stitches?"

Captain Jenna approached the two, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She had a scrutinising look in her eye, one that said 'Why are you chatting and not working?' It reminded her of her old teachers.

The hunters were silent, looking between each other. She shot Tara a warning look, but Tara ignored it, turning the phone to face Jenna. "This does."

Jenna leaned in, her eyebrows raising, breaking her steely expression. "Why yes, it does... Is this you?" She looked to her, and she sighed softly, a little embarrassed.

"Yes, but I feel fine. I promise. If I didn't, I'd take the day off."

"Have you had it treated?" Jenna cut to the chase.

"...No." She admitted, and Jenna sighed.

"Well go. At once. That could easily get infected." The captain straightened up, her tone commanding. There was no room for negotiation. "Honestly, I thought you'd have more sense than to leave an injury like that unattended." With that, Jenna walked away. She waited until her captain was out of sight before standing and addressing Tara.

"Did you really have to snitch on me?" Though she already knew she would — anything to impress Jenna. Tara gave a sheepish look.

"Well I had to do something! I'm only looking out for you." But she pat Tara's shoulder, shaking her head and smiling.

"I know, I know, you're right... as usual. I really shouldn't ignore it. Thanks Tara." Tara gave a knowing smile.

"I am usually right! Now go and see Zayne. He might be a little scary but he knows what he's doing." They both chuckled at that.

Tara knew what her friend was hesitant to admit: It wasn't that she was ignorant of the risks of open wounds, nor was she a particularly nervous patient. She just didn't want to see Zayne.

Not because the doctor was in any way cruel or unpleasant, he wasn't even scary as such. But the doctor was so cold, and the icy chill of his eyes permeated her core with a mere glance her way. Zayne had been an old forgotten friend, a dear one, but now he was a figurehead for her ailments. All that time they'd spent together as children seemed meaningless now. They couldn't have drifted further apart. Zayne was a bad omen, and a sign her past had been well and truly shattered.

But that was only half of the reason. The other reason, the more embarrassing one, was that she found Zayne stupidly attractive. Not only because he had the face of an angel and a body carved from marble, but for his work ethic, his dedication, his intelligence. And of course, she couldn't help but feel sentimental toward him over the time they'd spent together as kids. She yearned to reconnect with him. He had a potent effect on her. When she was near him, his mere presence was enough to suck the words out of her mouth, to reduce her to a shrinking violet with no resolve. Like a silly teenager with a crush. And that wasn't like her at all. She hated not having control.

She wasn't certain whether the feeling was mutual. There was something about the way that he looked at her, on occasion, that made her heart flare up. Sometimes she thought he had a tenderness to his tone that he just couldn't have used with everyone, but maybe that was wishful thinking? His concern for her health and wellbeing seemed obsessive, too. Never had her previous physicians been so zealous, but Zayne was a renowned surgeon. Perhaps it was just a sign he was good at his job, and nothing more? She didn't know, and she didn't like thinking about it.

With a deep breath, she rapped on the door to his office. With any luck, he'd be busy, and she'd be forced to return to HQ and schedule an appointment the long way.

"Come in." He answered — Damn.

She walked inside, standing by the door with her hands behind her back. Zayne was busy typing away at his computer, and he hadn't even spared her a glance. She hadn't realised she'd been quiet until Zayne spoke up again.

"Can I help you?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Yes, if you're not too busy. I injured myself while dealing with a Wanderer. I was hoping you could take a look."

It was upon hearing her voice that Zayne decided his patient was more interesting than his computer, and he turned to face her, scrutinising her slightly crooked form, and the way she carried her weight. He thought for a moment or two.

"Your left thigh." How did he know that? She looked down, but her injury was completely concealed, and no blood had seeped through her clothes.

"Yes, how did you—"

"What happened exactly? Take a seat." She nodded, heading to sit down on the chair opposite the doctor, but he shook his head.

"Not there. On the examination table."

"Right."

As she sat down, Zayne quickly punched one final sentence into the keyboard, before turning to face her, waiting for her answer.

"It happened yesterday. A Wanderer, as I said." She clarified, and Zayne hummed.

"So the Wanderer attacked you directly? You didn't sustain this injury through any other means during the battle?" She shook her head. Zayne made a note of this on his computer.

"And do you have any other injuries?" She told him no again.

"Alright. I need to examine you, if that's okay."

She nodded, looking down to where her legs were outstretched on the table, before coming to an awkward realisation: She was wearing pants. She couldn't just pull her skirt up, she'd have to strip the item off entirely.

"Yes, of course." She began to fiddle with the button to her pants, before Zayne stiffened, taking the curtain that surrounded the table.

"Tell me when you're ready." With that, he shut the curtain around her. She released a sigh of relief, grateful for the privacy, though she felt a little stupid for not closing it herself. She wasn't sure how she'd compose herself having to undress in front of him.

Once her pants were off, she came to a second mortifying realisation: Her underwear. The item was black and lacy, made from sheer mesh, hardly concealing her delicate areas. The type you'd wear for a lover, and not at all the sort of thing you'd wear to work. But she'd washed all of her more practical undies yesterday, and thanks to one pesky Knave, hadn't found the time to dry them before morning. If she'd known she'd be stripping down in Zayne's office for an examination, she would have stopped off at the shops on her way to work to buy something cheap and appropriate. Hell, she probably would have bought boxer shorts.

"Shit." She hissed under her breath.

What would Zayne think of her? Surely he'd think it was deliberate. She'd approached him for treatment, and she just so happened to be wearing semi-transparent lingerie? There was no way he'd find that coincidental. He'd think she was some sort of pervert. Was it too late to get out of here?

"Are you alright? Or are you struggling to get changed?" Zayne asked from the other side of the curtain. Her chest felt tight — how long had she been sat there worrying?

"No, I'm fine. I'm ready now." She panicked, blurting out the words despite herself, cursing internally as Zayne pulled back the curtain. The doctor said nothing as his eyes drank in the sight of her, nor did his expression give anything away — Not that she'd know, she avoided his gaze like the plague, staring intently at the floor. But despite his composure, Zayne certainly noticed her indelicate attire. And despite his healing instincts, and the rather prominent gash on her thigh, her panties were the very first thing that held his attention.

Zayne sat beside the bed, on the side of her injured leg, leaning in close to the cut. He took a long look at it, reticent as ever, before finally meeting her gaze.

"What time did this happen yesterday?"

"In the evening."

"And you didn't think to call me when it did?" Zayne pressed. Her words were trapped in her throat for a moment, before she finally pushed them out.

"Well... no. It was late, and it didn't seem so bad at the time."

"It's never too late to check yourself in to a hospital." Zayne stated the obvious. "Whether I was available or not, you should have had this seen to immediately." His tone was stern, his stare unwavering. She said nothing. "When something like this happens, you need to call me, no matter how late it is. I'm your primary care physician, it's what I'm here for. And if I can't see to you personally, I can find someone who can."

"I understand. I will do, next time."

"You really ought to take your health more seriously. You have a duty, as a hunter, to protect people. Lives depend on you. And you can't protect anybody if you can't take adequate care of yourself. Being anything less than thorough with your wellbeing is selfish, and neglectful of your duties." His words made her brows furrow, a mixture of annoyance and shame, but she still didn't respond.

"Injuries sustained through Wanderer attacks are more susceptible to infections. Some are serious, and fast-acting, as you should well know. I cannot stress enough the importance of getting wounds like these seen to as soon as possible—"

"I know, Doctor." She interrupted, a little snappy. "I told you already. I will next time, and I'm here now, aren't I?" But did she have any right to be annoyed with his tone? Deep down she knew she didn't, that she was only being stubborn, but she couldn't help herself.

"Please don't be so reckless next time." Zayne asked her, his tone softer, his eyes so tender she couldn't stand to look at them anymore. She couldn't take it when he scolded her.

The doctor sighed softly through his nose.

"This will need sutures, but I'll need to clean the wound and check for signs of infection first, which requires a physical examination. Is that alright?" His words nearly made her melt.

"That's fine." She composed herself well enough for an answer.

Zayne brought a gloved hand to her thigh, and although the gesture was purely clinical, she couldn't help the heat that rushed to the spot between her legs. His hands were cool, and his touch gentle, so gentle that if she closed her eyes and pictured a different context, it could've been a loving caress. Zayne pressed his fingers firmly against her thigh.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." She answered honestly. Zayne repeated the motion to the space surrounding her injury, his fingers travelling in a small circle, starting from the bottom of the cut, until they creeped inwards. Zayne gently pulled at her thigh, widening her legs as he continued his examination. She was trying her best not to react.

She cast her gaze downwards, to the fingers between her legs, and her heart dropped. From this angle, under the stark white lights, she was clearly exposed. Nothing was left to the imagination. She was so embarrassed she nearly screamed, looking to Zayne to try and gauge his reaction — but she couldn't. He was too focused on the task at hand.

Her breath became shaky as she observed the way he prodded at her, how his fingers crept ever-closer to her arousal. Just one budge in the opposite direction and those tough, broad hands would be swept over her cunt. Imagining how his fingertips would tickle the mesh of her panties was enough to make her wet.

She heard her name in the recesses of her mind, and then again. Only the second time did she realise it was coming from Zayne's lips.

She snapped back to reality, looking back at him with eyes wider than intended. He stared back at her with a cutting gaze.

"I asked you whether it hurt, where I was touching you." He repeated. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a few moments before she could cough the words out.

"No— no, sorry. I was a million miles away." She chuckled sheepishly.

Zayne looked back at her, giving nothing away. How exciting, he thought, that he could tell exactly what was going through her mind, yet she didn't have a clue what he was thinking? Zayne was extraordinarily good at hiding his emotions, but his patient? Not so much.

She was embarrassed, that much was clear. Whether the lingerie was a wardrobe malfunction or a bold decision she quickly came to regret, he wasn't sure.

What was also clear was that she liked it — what he declined to express was that he did too.

How could he not? If it were anybody else, he wouldn't give such scandalous attire a second thought. As a doctor, he was indiscriminate; a body was just a body. He'd seen the hidden corners of countless beautiful women and it never swayed his commitment to his work or hindered his professionalism — not once. But she was different. Surely, despite how reserved he was, she could tell that she was different? That this tension between them was all but ordinary?

"I don't believe you have an infection, but I'd like to see you in a week for observation. If anything changes, let me know immediately." He told her, his tone as stoic as ever. Yet his hand lingered at her inner thigh, so close to her cunt she was sure he could feel the heat through his gloves. Eventually, he did move his hand. Despite his feelings, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

Zayne then proceeded with the usual cleaning and dressing procedures, and she suppressed a hiss as he swabbed the wound with antiseptic. During this entire exchange, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet, whereas Zayne was as quiet as usual. The silence was unbearable, she wasn't sure she could ever recall a time where she'd felt so awkward that it hurt. Her body was so tense, and her lust swelled so needily that she couldn't suppress the words that left her mouth next.

"I'm sorry about the underwear." She blurted, her apology cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. But it didn't take long for the searing metal to scorch her skin — she regretted the words almost the moment she'd said them.

Zayne paused, placing down the suture needle he was prepping before staring straight back at her. There was a hint of mirth behind his eyes, that came into fruition through a small, teasing smile.

"Don't apologise." His tone was gentle and neutral.

Did he say that so things wouldn't be uncomfortable, or because he liked the look of them?

"I didn't wear these because I knew you'd see them, all my other pairs hadn't dried. And I wasn't even going to see you in the first place, I only did because Jenna told me to!" She couldn't help but explain herself, a grimace on her face, but Zayne remained quiet as he brought the needle to the cut.

The anaesthetic numbed the pain. She felt uncomfortable again, with Zayne's sudden silence. She wondered whether he'd respond at all, whether she'd made things too awkward, but Zayne was simply mulling over the best thing to say.

"You don't usually wear lingerie to work, then?" He enquired, meeting her gaze once he'd pulled the stitch through. She chuckled bashfully, dipping her head.

"No. Never. They've been irritating me all day." Zayne hummed at this, continuing with his sutures. "Why, would you prefer it if I did?"

She wasn't sure where such boldness had come from. Likely it was that her lips below were talking for the ones above, despite how twisted up she felt inside. Yet again, she quickly regretted her pitiful attempt at flirting, until Zayne seemed to bite.

He met her eyes again, his smile wider now. He loved seeing her so playful. "I'm not sure I can come up with an answer that's both professional and true."

Her desire burned at his words, so brightly that she swore she could feel a hole forming in her chest. She clenched, unwittingly, never had she been so eager to feel him. A Cheshire-cat smile stretched across her face, the type of smile that she was sure made her look silly, yet Zayne found it endearing.

She began to laugh, though at first it was deep in the pit of her stomach, and Zayne continued with his work. But she couldn't help her laughter, the swell of emotions overtaking her. Embarrassed, yet immensely satisfied. How unexpected that things were beginning to work out for her?

Zayne finished the sutures, gathering fresh gauze as he began to dress the wound, amused by her reaction. "Do you truly find me that funny?" He asked in a level tone, and her laughter died down so that she could respond.

"Zayne, you are the furthest thing from funny." Though she didn't elaborate, as there was no need. Her belly full of butterflies was clear without words. The doctor hummed and finished dressing the wound.

She watched him as quiet settled over them again, but this time it wasn't an awkward silence. Instead, it was charged with sexual tension. Zayne stopped looking at her thigh in favour of the warmth between her legs. He stared, unabashedly, and the look on his face struck a bolt of fresh arousal through her heart.

He took his gloves off, then slowly, he reached over, tracing his fingertip over the lacy edge of her underwear. "Why do you have underwear like this anyway? Do you have a partner?" He asked her. She thought he sounded almost a little possessive, but it was clear another man in the picture wouldn't stop him anyways. His eyes flitted up to hers.

Her face felt hot at the question. Goosebumps prickled up across her skin in an instant, her cunt twitching from the subtle contact. "No."

"No?" He tested, taking his finger directly over her heat, stroking it up and down over the thin mesh of her panties. He could feel her wetness soaking through, and the way she twitched under his touch. "Then I'm right to assume that these are only for me?" There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one that she mirrored.

"That's right."

Her answer pleased him. She spread her legs a little wider, resisting the urge to moan despite the fact he'd hardly touched her. Zayne slipped his fingers beneath her underwear, finally feeling her properly. The sensation made her gasp.

He merely trailed his touch along the length of her cunt, between her folds, sticky with her slick. He was teasing her, taking his precious time as he lapped up the look on her face.

"You're already so wet."

His voice was collected. He was completely in control, while the woman at the end of his fingers was quickly unravelling by the second. She said nothing, releasing a shaky breath. Zayne stood, sitting opposite her on the table.

He took his fingers from the lips below to the ones above, tracing them gently, before taking hold of her jaw. He pulled her forward, and their lips collided in a greedy kiss. She poured her desire into him, clasping him tightly, pulling him closer, her eyes clenched shut as he expelled the tension from her form.

Yet Zayne, as always, appeared composed. He parried her hungry affections effortlessly, his grip on her jaw becoming firm. Zayne led the charge, as he guided her lips against his, eventually setting their pace. She slowed down to appreciate him, but before long the kiss was broken. Zayne pulled away with a soft smile, his lips a little puffy as he pressed them chastely to her cheek.

He brought his fingers to her lips again. "Suck them for me." His command was gentle without losing its timbre, and she obeyed, sucking on the digits without question, briefly, until he pulled them out of her mouth. Zayne brought his wetted fingers back to her cunt, pulling her underwear to one side and sticking his fingers firmly against her.

She huffed at the sensation. His fingers were still a little cold, warmer now thanks to her mouth. She clenched, feeling empty, needing him inside of her.

Zayne rolled his fingers over her clit, and not too slowly, which took her by surprise. She moaned already, widening her legs for him. He wore a focused expression, lust sparking beneath his pointed gaze.

He sat more comfortably between her legs, taking her thigh, before inserting a finger into her cunt. She whined, though she was wet enough to offer no resistance. He pushed it deep inside of her in one, smooth motion.

She clenched tightly with her core, as if to hold on to him, wanting to keep him inside of her, sighing as he pulled his finger out, only for him to add a second.

This was a tighter fit. She moaned, trying to keep her voice down, angling her hips up to feel him better. Zayne slowly began to pump both his fingers, up deep inside of her then down to the tips. The friction of her walls against him was marvellous.

"You feel wonderful." He told her, his eyes locked on hers, fixed on every micromovement. Everything about her, from the sound of her voice, the small parting in her lips, the sight of her so uninhibited before him — it was poetry in motion. This woman, as capable and stubborn as she was, was helpless at his touch.

I do feel wonderful, she thought, scoffing at Zayne's compliment. She felt blissful, like a ball of a thousand knots had at once been untied, releasing a deep strain she'd been harbouring in her stomach. Ever since she'd reunited with Dr. Zayne, those ties had knotted. Every time she'd seen him, the palpable tension between them had grown and grown. Until now.

Zayne sat up straight, then hoisted her up, taking his fingers out briefly to pull her panties off entirely, carelessly discarding the item on the floor. It was only a momentary distraction — soon Zayne's fingers slipped past her walls yet again, though this time he was positioned beside her, his other arm hooked around her waist, holding her close.

He pumped his fingers faster, his motions mechanical, his rhythm never wavering, and she struggled to contain the sound of her mewls.

"Shh. You need to be quieter." He hushed her, gently. "As much as I love hearing you, the walls here aren't so thick." He managed a chuckle, dipping his head to her neck, pressing a short trail of kisses down its length. This made her shiver

"That's— that's the wrong way to get me to be quiet." She scolded, playfully, matching his smile. Her words were breathy and choppy from her efforts to conceal her pleasure.

"Noted." Zayne turned her head toward his, then caught her lips in another kiss, one more frenzied than the first. Zayne used his lips to muffle the noises coming out of hers, eating every moan and whine she poured into him. He pushed his fingers as deep as they could reach inside of her, stroking her walls with a beckoning motion. Meanwhile, he played with her clit with his thumb, breaking their kiss to observe her reactions.

She looked divine. Her lips were wet and inflamed, dripping with saliva, her hair tousled, her expression languid. And he could see how she tried so hard to keep quiet for him, how her whimpers bubbled in her mouth, how hard she breathed through her nose. She felt she must have looked silly, but Zayne didn't think so at all.

"So you can do what you're told?" He teased, sounding more playful than she'd ever heard him. She huffed at this, far too wound up to retort.

He suddenly began to pump his fingers again, faster than before, which took her time to adjust to. She gasped, but caught most of the sound in her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut.

She could feel her climax swelling. It couldn't be far away. Her body felt tight and hot, her face clenched with the torment of having to keep quiet. She held his hand, leaning into him, her movements becoming fidgety as she tried to channel her stimulation. Again, she clenched at Zayne's fingers, bucking her hips to take more of them. Seeing her so desperate for him was so exciting.

"You're doing so well." He didn't tease her anymore, cooing into her ear. His husky tone was enough to make her moan again, that one slipping right past her defences, ringing loud and clear. Oops.

She bit her lips, flashing Zayne an apologetic look, though he didn't seem to mind, nor did he slow down. Another pang of pleasure rippled through her, and at that she knew it was time.

"Zayne— I'm close—" She just about choked the words out, her hand coming to clamp her mouth shut. Somehow, in the heat of things, she'd forgotten she had that option.

He sped up a final time, his fingers flashing in and out of her with a series of thick squelches. Zayne fingered her like a machine, one clever in its design — to be so quick and accurate without being brutal. She felt her whole body tense, a flush of great heat washing over her, choking out her gasps as she buried her head in Zayne's shoulder. Then, at once, she reached her release.

Her body quickly went lax, the heat and strain fizzing out of her, skin tingling. It took her a few good gasps to regain her composure, eyes slowly opening. When she looked down, the light sheet on the table had been soaked through with her release, her legs glistening with sweat. Slowly, Zayne pulled his fingers out of her, earning a whine from the weary woman. He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking away her juices.

He sent her a smile, pulling her against his chest. "Did you like that?" Surely the answer was obvious, and she sent him a look that spoke a thousand words. His smile deepened. "I'm glad."

"I hope I wasn't too loud..." She mused, looking to Zayne, who leaned in to press a soft kiss to her temple. A delicate gesture that made her heart stir.

"You were. But don't worry about it." She scoffed at that, too tired to do anything but listen to him. Before she could return the favour and get Zayne off, she needed a few minutes to gather herself.

But Zayne didn't seem the least bit concerned about his own satisfaction — seeing her hit ecstasy was all he needed. He rubbed at her inner thigh, the one that wasn't injured, giving her a slightly regretful look.

"I have an appointment in twenty minutes, so unfortunately you're going to have to leave soon." The words weighed heavy on her chest, even though she knew that was stupid, nodding at Zayne with a cheeky smile.

"That's not a problem, I can make it quick." She reached over to the tent in Zayne's crotch, but he took her hand, moving it away.

"I can sort myself out." He assured her. She couldn't help but feel a little rejected. Sensing this, he stroked her cheek.

"You can make it up to me another time." They both smiled at that, staring at each other for what felt like hours.

"I'll never avoid making an appointment again."

They probably would have kept staring if it weren't for the startling knock at the door, and the concerned voice of one of the nurses that followed.

"Doctor Zayne? Is everything alright in there? I heard a lot of noise!"

[kbstanny]

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[kbstanny]

Switzerland and Liechtenstein! 🇨🇭 🇱🇮

these r just some two minute doodles of my faves coz im bored lol

[kbstanny]

hi guys! just thought i'd update you:

i'm currently working on a switzerland x oc original fiction piece! but details about my oc will be fairly vague so it can also be read as switzerland x reader. i'm planning it out chapter by chapter and am currently four chapters in. i've been wanting to write something like this for god knows how long and i'm just happy i've finally got somewhere with it. switzerland is easily my favourite character and there's a massive lack in fanfic about him so i thought i may as well make my own. i hope some of you will be interested but i'm not too bothered either way! this is a passion project above all else.

in the meantime, request and imagines are still open, so please don't be shy and hit up my inbox! thank you for reading ❤️

[kbstanny]

merry christmas everyone!

thanks for all the notes on my russia headcanons post — wasn't expecting such a positive reaction!

just wanna let you all know that i do plan on updating this blog semi-recently, so i'm not dead! i plan to be more active soon and start posting some original fanfiction. i've had a lot of ideas that i'm itching to share, so stay tuned!

thank you all 🐝

[kbstanny]

Hi!! Im recently getting back into Hetalia as well!

Now,, I am A total hoe for Aph!Russia! Could I get some soft relationship headcanons? Mostly centered around how you think he would show affection to his s/o! Possibly even how they go about sticking up for their relationship when other countries are like “y/n— blink twice if you’re being held against your will”!! Thank you so much!💖

omg! another russia simp? excellent taste.

As for affection...

Russia may be an intimidating man on the surface, but when it comes to his partner his softer side truly shines through.

Ivan is a true romantic. He shows his affection in traditional ways: Wining and dining and bouquets of sunflowers.

He'd spoil them — even if they didn't like it. When it comes to things like expensive gifts and romantic getaways, he simply wouldn't take no for an answer.

And he's a keen listener. He'd listen to his partner ramble on for hours, whether it's about a petty dispute at work or a more sensitive issue.

Would he offer advice of that much value? Likely not, he isn't too skilled in the art of handling other people's interpersonal dramas.

However, he would use this as another excuse to spoil his lover and shower them with his care. He'd give them a back massage while they complained, or he'd run them a hot bubble bath and pour them a glass of wine.

But he isn't much of an open book himself. He'd much rather absorb the strife of his s/o than burden them with his own.

Above all, he's fiercely protective of his love. He'd use all his power as a person and a nation to protect his partner to the best of his abilities.

Now Ivan isn't particularly physically affectionate — He's not the type to pick up his partner and twirl them around or attack them with kisses.

He shows his intimacy in small, but sensual gestures: A kiss to the neck or forehead; rubbing his thumb over their knuckles; holding his partner's face in his hand.

His personal favourite thing to do is to play with his lover's hair. He could do it for days if he could.

How would he defend his relationship?

I honestly don't think he'd be all that compelled to.

It doesn't bother him. Ivan had long stopped caring about the opinions of those who didn't mean anything to him, particularly regarding the other nations.

He trusts in his s/o to trust in him and how he treats them, not to give those who don't know their relationship the time of day.

However, if all the rumours did start to upset his partner, he'd spend his energy on convincing his love to pay them no mind.

He'd tell his love that other nations were intimidated by his power, but that you had no need to be.

Because he cared about you more than anything else.