#I just realized I haven't actually posted any smut for them

[throneofsapphics]

Poly!manorian, maybe their lover or mate doesn’t feel good enough for them and distances herself from them. Or maybe one where she works as a spy (or assassin) for Dorian (since he’s the king) and gets injured?💕 this could also work for poly!rowaelin❣️

sleep talking 

Manorian x Reader 

Summary: Reader doesn’t think she’s good enough for Manon and Dorian.  

Warnings: angst & comfort, a bit of suggestiveness, tiny mention of blood, nightmare

A/N: thank youuu! this got my brain whirling 

No matter how often they told or showed her, she didn’t feel like enough. A King and Queen. How could she compare to them? Not just royals, but two beautiful, almost other-worldly people. Subconsciously, she found herself drifting away from them. It started slowly - the full on grins become half-smiles, the hugs becoming just a second shorter, time spent at the castle slowly reducing. 

-

In the beginning, he could reason it was her being busy, stressed, or other factors in her life making her a bit distant, but after a few months he noticed the patterns. She wouldn’t spend the night any more, maybe once a week instead of several days. He gave her space, tried to let her figure it out, asked Manon - who’d noticed as well. All she did was acknowledge it, but he could see the worry and slight pain in her eyes. It stung. Worse, he couldn’t figure out why. Nothing changed in the way they treated her, nothing changed in how they felt about her, how they tried to show her their love. And if it came to it, he’d let her go. As much as it pained him, as much as it stuck a sharp needle into his heart, he respected her enough that if that's her choice he’ll let her go. 

-

She was glad in a way, that they didn’t push harder, ask more questions, or try to pull her in further. It made it easier and reinforced her thoughts. The ones that drifted inside her, the nightmares where they’d stand in front of the castle gates, 

“Why?” Her eyes slowly filled with tears. 

Dorian glanced at Manon, whose eyes were cold. Burnt gold - but might as well have been ice, along with the stony expression. A firm mask that used to soften slightly for her, but now she looked at her like she would anyone else, any stranger - but not an enemy. There’s a bit of comfort in that. 

“It’s not that we don’t like you, but you’re not …” 

“Not enough.” She finished the sentence for him, and he winced slightly but didn’t agree or disagree. 

Manon took a few steps forward, gently pushed her shoulder - and the gates swung shut behind her. The groan and thud echoed in her head, but not loudly enough to drown out the pain.

She didn’t dare look back, another glance would break her - throw her into tears, send her into a spiral. One step at a time, one step forward, she could do that.

She startled forward, forcing deep breaths in and out of her lungs, clutching the sheets, letting the soft silk - silk, not cotton, ground her. 

A quick glance to her right showed her Dorian was awake, soft sapphire eyes staring back at her with worry. “You sleep talk.” He murmured, and she felt Manon’s touch, long and nimble fingers brushing at her arm, before tracing down to capture her hand. 

“What did you mean ‘not enough’?” She asked in her usual blunt way. Y/n's throat bobbed, she couldn’t get away with lying to Manon, the witch always knew. Always. Even if she left a small portion out, the witch wouldn’t stop until she had the full story.  

“It was just a nightmare.” Y/n tried to deflect, leaning back down to return to sleep, or at least pretend, but Dorian’s arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright. 

“Tell me about it.” A command, not a question. 

-

Her nails dug into her palm, the hand Manon wasn’t holding, leaving crescents behind before she loosened the fist, tapping the tip of her thumb against the rest of her fingers. Anxious, she’s nervous about whatever it is - to tell us. 

“You, both of you, implied I wasn’t enough, and pushed me out the castle gates.” He didn’t have a clue what to expect, but that wasn’t it. “It was just a dream.” She said quickly, eyes glancing back and forth between the two of them. When he was thinking earlier, when he ran through all of the reasons she might be distancing herself, that wasn’t one of them. 

“You said nightmare before.” Manon corrected. “Nightmares are reactions to fears, aren’t they?” Her stare met his, the question was directed to him, not y/n. 

“Is that how you feel?” He asked, careful to keep his voice soft and calm - despite the internal panic he was beginning to feel. Panic to lose her, for that reason.

“Sometimes.” She let out a long breath, but nothing about her calmed, her shoulders were still tight, now starting to shake - those nails digging further into her palm, hard enough to draw blood. On instinct, he gently pried the fingers away, letting a bit of magic drift in to heal the small wounds. “It’s nothing you’ve done,” her bottom lip began to quiver, “just the truth.” 

-

“Stop.” Manon squeezed her hand. “That’s bullshit. If you believe it to be the truth, give me three reasons why.” 

She noticed Dorian cut a sharp glance to Manon, his eyes slightly narrowed. 

Y/n dug deep into her mind, trying to find ways to put words to her feelings, trying to explain that instinct, the way she feels, “I’m not,” she would’ve waved her hands if they didn’t each have one captive. 

“You can’t give us any reasons.” Manon’s other hand tilted her cheek, so she’d meet her gaze directly. Her eyes branded into hers, staring with an intensity that made her want to look away, but the fingers lightly gripping her face kept her from. “There’s your answer.” 

“I didn’t ask a question.” She countered. Manon snorted, rolling her eyes. Y/n huffed, nearly rolling her eyes as well.

“What Manon is saying,” Dorian drawled. “Is you’re more than enough, and if I have to tell you that every hour, until you believe it, I will.” She couldn’t stop the full smile filling her face, the slight blush of her cheeks, “and when Manon tells me to shut up, I’ll write it.” His eyes trailed up and down her body, “or show you.” 

“I won’t bother with words,” Manon’s hand trailed down her inside of her thigh, following the soft curve of her skin.

[poisonf0rest]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp

word count: 9.3K what the fuck

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.

Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files. 

You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.

After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.

Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.

You doubt you ever will again.

In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request. 

Michaela - Boss Man

checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?

talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :( 

she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes

pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help

You - Little Star

Hey Micheala

You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further. 

You - Little Star

No I get it, thanks for trying though

I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time

And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again. 

It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for. 

Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.

Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now. 

With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line. 

You groan  as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor. 

residency-CS-alerts

Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent. 

Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.

Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.

He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.

Safe to say, you admire him just a little.

You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case? 

You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat. 

Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer. 

“Tell me what you see.”

Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings. 

You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.

 “What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”

He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”

Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered. 

Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”

Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?

Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”

“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”

“More detail than that, please.”

A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”

Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”

You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

_______

Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day. 

And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.

Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either. 

Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers. 

Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain. 

You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling. 

Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.

Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.

Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”

“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.

“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”

You die a little inside. 

“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”

Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?

Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table. 

His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."

"I accept!"

The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content. 

The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."

You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."

Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”

You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way. 

After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth. 

"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”

You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s. 

A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream. 

_______

It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever. 

Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth. 

If that were all, then everything would be perfect. 

If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own. 

But of course, the plot has to thicken. 

Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all. 

But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming. 

Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone. 

This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.

And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.

Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture. 

"You're late."

You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."

"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."

"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?” 

You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."

"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"

"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."

Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”

You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”

“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"

"We are."

“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”

"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."

You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”

You sit. Zayne follows. 

Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”

“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”

“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”

“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”

You’ve really outdone yourself this time.

Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.

“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”

Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.

“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”

Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.

"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."

You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.

"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”

“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.

"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."

"You have."

Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.

"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."

When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”

You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.

"What do you mean by help, exactly?"

"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"

There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t. 

"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"

A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”

Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”

“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.

“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”

The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.

You nearly laugh.

“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”

Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”

And he chokes. Again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.

Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.

“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”

You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”

Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.

"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."

The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.

But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?

"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"

Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”

A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”

“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.

He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"

You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."

"It's a deal then.”

He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."

His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."

And with a wave, he's gone.

_______

You don’t know what you expected. 

Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.

You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked. 

To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.

Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes. 

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.” 

Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”

Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him. 

You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."

He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself. 

"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.

Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.

"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.

"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”

Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.

“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”

His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you. 

You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck. 

But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone. 

You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you. 

“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. “Where would you like to do this?”

You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.

Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.

And with that, you lead him to your room.

Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue. 

Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next. 

He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.

“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”

As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.

Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.

As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."

Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.

You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.

He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"

"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.

Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are." 

His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.

"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.

"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.

“Do not mistake my care for pity.” 

Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.

Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."

Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.

His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin. 

It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.

All for the better, you remind yourself.

He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm. 

Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.

Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop. 

Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.

“No.”

His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.

“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.

You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.

Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”

“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.

You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.

It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive. 

You think you’d let him.

Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.

Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.

Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.

Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”

You can barely manage a nod.

“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”

Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.

And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.

Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.

And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser. 

It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.

"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."

His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.

He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.

When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."

The bastard.

You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.

Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion. 

You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.

"Slower. You're going too fast."

You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?" 

Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."

As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you. 

Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers. 

You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase. 

“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”

You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.

"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own. 

“Good. It feels really good.”

Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.

It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.

You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.

But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.

You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."

The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.

“Again. Deeper.”

It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit. 

You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.

His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. 

“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”

“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”

It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly. 

You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.

At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.

The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force. 

Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.

He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.

And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor. 

You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.” 

You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”

A promise he has every intention to keep.

Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth. 

You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.

 “That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”

His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob. 

"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“

Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."

You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."

"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”

“My voice?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”

You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”

You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.

And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest. 

“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”

He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.

The rhythm is comforting.

Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.

“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”

Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls. 

When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.

"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.

"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.

You nod.

"What else, darling? Are you close?"

Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it. 

"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.

"Come. Come for me, darling."

And you do.

Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.

The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.

Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.

"How are you feeling?"

The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.

Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”

Zayne stiffens. “Good.” 

He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.

“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.

You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you. 

But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine. 

You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.

[talaok]

Heyy, first, I'd like to say that I really love your writing, keep it up!

And I'd like to make a request, I know we all went crazy over Pedro on SNL (he looked so handsome!!!), and I would love to read a Pedro x Reader behind the scenes of the show, her watching, supporting, and being proud of Pedro, and then the two of them going out together to the SNL after party, dancing, kissing, enjoying each other's company, very fluffy, and a bit of smut at the end?

Pairing: Pedro pascal x f!reader

warnings: very very faint allusion to smut

a/n: he did look handsome and thank you so much love <3 (and yes this ask skipped the line bc as always it wouldn't have made sense for me to post it in two weeks)

It was incredible how nervous he was. He'd done this already, and yet he was acting like a kid like at his first recital.

"you're gonna do amazing baby" you promised, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek "Now go out there and have fun"

His eyes anxiously danced around your face

"my heart's beating so fast" he huffed a laugh

"I know" you smiled, stoking his cheek "but remember, you have nothing to be scared of, you've done this already, and you were amazing at it, so just relax"

"ok" he took a breathy sigh "yeah, you're right. I can do this"

"that's it" you grinned, but before you could say anything more he was kissing you like it was the last time he ever could.

"Pedro?" his assistant's voice brought you back to reality "It's time"

You smiled as he leaned away.

"I love you" he promised, the honesty of that statement shining through his eyes

"I love you too baby" you murmured "Now go!" you said, giving him a playful push "Break a leg!"

__ __ __

As you already knew, everything went perfectly smoothly, he and Bad Bunny were an amazing duo, and you could just see how well they got on even with the cameras off.

The monologue was perfect, and you didn't miss any opportunity to cheer and laugh every time you could, but as much as you'd loved it... nothing could top the Ms. Flores sketch.

You loved it last time, and you loved it this time too.

Even just seeing him in the costume made you laugh (you had filled your camera roll with photos of him) but then combined with the actual sketch... it was just perfection.

You almost didn't want him to change, you kind of liked the constant teasing of calling him mama and telling him just how sexy he was, but unfortunately, he did change.

Imagine what a look that must have been for the afterparty instead of that old shirt he wore everywhere.

But then again, considering how much he was sweating from the dancing maybe it was a good call.

"thank you for tonight" he spoke over the music, as the song changed to a slower one "I couldn't have done it without you sweetheart"

"oh stop" you rolled your eyes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you swayed to the music "You would have been amazing regardless." you smiled "I'm surprised they haven't offered you a role as a permanent part of the cast yet"

"No I'm serious" he laughed softly "I don't know if I would have gotten on that stage without you"

"baby..." you cooed, touched by his words "I love you. I'm always gonna be there for you"

"and me for you" he murmured, before kissing you.

You could only vaguely feel everyone around you and hear the music, it was just you and him.

He always made you feel like that.

"I've just realized I was so anxious for tonight that I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet," he said, making you blush faintly.

"You look beautiful too" you murmured, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips "Not as much as you did when you were dressed as Ms. Flores, but you're not so bad"

He couldn't help but laugh at that

"You'll never let that go, will you?"

"nope" you chuckled, earning another kiss, this time deeper and much... hungrier.

You whimpered into his mouth as his hand on your back started traveling dangerously low.

"baby-"

"you're gorgeous sugar"

you bit down a grin at that

"I know that look"

"what look" he silenced you with another kiss "I'm not doing anything" he breathed, his lips now on your neck

And as much as you weren't completely conscious of everyone around you, a part of your brain still was.

"I think it's time we go home baby" you whispered

"yeah" he nodded, meeting his lips with yours again "Yeah I think it is"

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 01 . The blind date

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader  Wordcount: 2,888 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ?????. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. And fuff for cute friends. Summary: Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However no one really expected things to end the way they did.

Warnings ( for this chapter ): Setting things up for plot purposes. Gridding? Mentions of a boner. Making out.  Author's note: So, I wanted to write some friends with benefits thing, plus a bunch of art kids… and this came out ┐( • ֊ • )┌ . I should note here I took the creative liberty to play around with their ages so everyone is in college at the same time, and if you haven't, you can check the presentation post and learn a little bit more about them. Now let's start, hope you like it! If you do you can reblog, like, comment, send an ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

The place is quieter than the last time you were here, you realize, is earlier in the day and the semester just started after all, meaning students are still moving in from their home cities. And although you want to be mad at him, you can't really blame Hoseok's choice of place for a date, instead, you're already thinking of ways to be able to escape the awkwardness of it all.

Of course, he and Mai don't have to worry about that. Is not their first date and considering they're both dance students it actually makes sense for them to be in a club on a friday night. Is their element, unlike yours, who hasn't left their room for the last couple of weeks if it's not to go art-supply shopping and will spend even weekends far away from a place like this.

But you couldn't say no. Not to Hobi. Not after he held you tight that night and didn't pray for an explanation.

He had come up with his own conclusions, though, and that's how you ended here. On a double date with Mai and her friend who you don't even know, so... Yay! Blind date added to the mix of reasons why you already want the night to end.

"You made it!" Mai greats when the both of you get closer to the bar, standing up to hug you first and then her boyfriend. "We ordered something while waiting."

Your friend nods at the explanation, "What do you want?" He asks in your direction and you settle for a fruity cocktail to not look too out of place with everyone else drinking. Mai insists on going with Hobi and he insists you stay, so, a bit awkwardly, you take the stool besides your date.

"Yoongi, by the way." The guy simply introduces himself before taking a sip of his drink.

"Y/n" short, overthinking if bowing is too formal until you decide is too long of a pause and it would only make it more awkward. In the end, a soft smile is your decision.

"They look cute together," you say looking at your friends, trying to break the silence that has fallen between.

"Listen," Yoongi begins, and your head turns to him, "I'm only here because she asked, so if you're expecting something like that, let's just leave."

"Like that?" Brows slightly closer, "a cute relationship?"

"A relationship in general. I don't do those."

"Oh..."

And before you can say anything else, Hobi is placing a glass in front of you, smiling reassuringly. "You'd be okay if I go dance now?"

A pause and then a nod is the answer. Not having any intentions of spoiling their night.

"Don't worry. Yoongi," Mai turns to him, a serious expression on her soft features, "you better take care of her, alright?"

He salutes, earning a smile from the couple and they walk to the dance floor hand in hand. You watch them make some silly moves at first and giggle, but it doesn't take long before they start to follow the beat and match it with their movements.

"I don't want a relationship either," you clarify, tone assertive, still looking at the couple with a smile.

He laughs, "I'm sorry, but that's hard to believe."

"Why?"

"Look at me and tell me you didn't just imagine yourself with someone on that dance floor."

You turn to him, brown eyes inspecting yours, "Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I want it to happen with someone I'm in a relationship with."

Again, he laughs. Clearly not believing you.

"What? People do casual things all the time," you defend, straightening your back and looking away.

"You do 'casual things'?" His eyebrows raise, "all the time?"

"Shut up, you don't know me."

"That's a no," no need to look at him to know there's a smirk playing on his lips.

"Who are you? Some kind of hook up police or something?" You want to take it back as soon as it leaves your mouth, cringing.

"Are you gonna show me your license?" but he is faster.

"Okay, that was more lame than what I said," you laugh. Maybe he is not as grumpy as he seems. And maybe, just maybe, you would be able to enjoy the night after all. 

If he doesn't want a relationship either, then you don't have to deal with rejecting him or being forced to accept a second date just because you're too kind to say no. That's good.

"Yoongi, hey!" A guy calls out and for a split second your date's expression changes to a surprise one before a polite smile takes place on his face. "Oh, hi. Sorry for interrupting, haven't seen him in months."

"Is alright," you play along even when not understanding.

"I guess he has been busy with yo—"

"Jay," Yoongi's tone is serious, like the one he used to say he doesn't do relationships. However, before he can continue or you are able to clarify that you two just meet, Jay is calling someone over.

"Look who I found, love. Yoongi!"

A redhead girl repeats Yoongi's early expression and you wonder two things about Jay. One: if he always has that effect on people. And two: if he is even more clueless than you in this whole situation, since his smile never falls.

"Hi," the redhead says and Yoongi greets back just as plain.

Are you really imagining the awkwardness? Perhaps you were wrong and in the end you should put one of your plans to avoid it into place?

A few seconds of thinking go by, no one says anything and you could swear the tension is filling the air around your new  group.

"Oh, that's the song!" Fake excitement in your voice tricks everyone into looking at you. "I promise, remember? If it comes on, we'll dance."

Yoongi looks confused for a second, but it doesn't take him long to finally understand, "right, the song. Sorry guys, been waiting all night."

Jay dismisses him smiling with a pat on the back, saying something about not breaking promises and Yoongi takes your hand.

Looking around, you try to find your friends, hoping to copy Mai's moves and keep up with the plan even when you're a self proclaimed not dancer. But they aren't in sight and even if you can't really prove it since your back is facing them, you feel like Jay's and the girl's eyes are on you.

Ugh. Why did you use this plan?

Why was this something you even thought about?

When Yoongi stops and positions himself in front of you, you get closer, sliding an arm on top of his shoulders pretending you're positioning yourself to dance, copying the random couple beside you.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you confess in a whisper.

"What do you mean?” He looks for your eyes, hair strain coming out of place when his head lowers a little, "you want to go back and sit down?"

"No, then they would know I lied," you're still trying to figure out why in the first place and don't need the embarrassment too, "but I don't know how to dance."

He chuckles, "here, I'll help." And holds your hips softly, moving them to the beat of the song, matching your movements with his own. "Relax. Don't think too much about it."

"If I don't, how do I know how to move?" It doesn't make sense and is a bit frustrating, honestly.

"Is not a dance competition, or the grant ball, princess. Just do what feels right."

He catches you looking at your feet and brings you closer, eliminating the gap between your bodies completely. "Don't do that," one of his hands travels to the small of your back, keeping you in place.

"Sorry," you say against his neck. Not intentionally, but because of your height difference, there's no other option. In an effort to not be so dependent on him, both your arms move around his neck and you try to move your hips in a way that in the end doesn't match his movements completely, causing you to bum into his front. He makes a sound that you assume is a complaint at your skills and another apology rolls through your lips.

"Turn around," Yoongi commands, applying pressure to one side of your hip.

You comply, confused even when you feel his hands on your waist. "Well, I'm going to assume you been fucked before, miss casual all the time," with his chest against your back, you can feel his laugh. "Open your legs a little," one of his feets kicks gently between yours, fixing your stand. "You want to lead or should I?"

"...You." Is the safest, you decide. Your turn to assume he surpasses your experience at that too.

“Some describe dancing like a good fuck," he explains, hands softly making their way a bit lower to your hips, "because you have to learn your partner. Find a rhythm together." His movements start slow, moving your body with his from side to side, with small circles of the hips.

Your hands fall on top of his, not knowing what else to do with them. They're soft, which for some reason is unexpected.

"I have dancer friends and they never described it like that..."

"Not to you, probably," he laughs and when you stop the movements to throw an angry look his way — because you're pretty sure that's some kind of insult,— he chuckles, before continuing the swaying of your hips. "Calm down, princess. I meant, they probably just weren't teaching you this kind of dance."

And that makes sense. You can't imagine dancing with your friends like this. You can barely believe you're doing it with a stranger.

Your shyness must have shown, because his next question is why did you even choose this song.

"I was trying to help and get you away from whatever that was," you lift your head, eyes away from your feet and the color lights projecting on the floor, and sure enough, behind red bangs, the girl is looking in your direction.

Your hips halt.

Yoongi catches up a bit too late, bumping his pelvis into you.

"What ar—"

"She is looking." Cutting him off, you want to hide as if you were the one caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. So, you try to turn around on his arms but his hold is firm.

A new song starts, the rhythm not much different.

"Help me with another song?"

You try again, this time using your hands on top of his to soften the grip. He gives in. And after a look at his face, you nod.

You can decide if it's sadness or anger that you see, not knowing him well enough to tell — or at all, to be honest — but either way, there's a part of you that can relate. One for each emotion.

Throwing your hair back, letting all black strands fall over your back, your arms go back over his shoulders, this time your chest flush against him a little more than last.

Yoongi says thanks and you kiss his cheek as his hands hold you again. His movements are more determined and even his fingers form dents over the fabric of your dress.

Assuming his demeanor changed only for the specific viewer doesn't sound too crazy, and you want to confirm the theory by looking at his face, see if he is looking behind you at her. Your eyes travel against the direction the few sweat drops over his skin go, and when they reach Yoongi's, he is looking back at you.

Your body stops.

"Fuck" he whispers when the front of his pelvis bumps yours. "You really need to stop doing that."

"Sorry. Told you I can't dance."

He chuckles.

Your bottom lip forms a small pout. "Don't be mean. I'm trying to help you, remember?" And you initiate the movements again, starting to get the hang of it. Kind of.

"You're not much help right now if you keep making me dry hump into you," this time he is the one stopping, making it so you bump into his front and you can feel the outline of his growing erection.

"Yoo—"

"Exactly," he says so matter of fact, "you're the mean one."

Lowering your head, you try to not think too much about it. It doesn't make you want to run away or kick him, but you also don't want to make him feel like kicking you away. You keep repeating to yourself that is normal with this type of dance, that there's probably more than one hard on at the club right now and how you're probably not the only one who is getting we—

Damn it. Just stop thinking about it.

Yoongi stops your body from moving, and when you realize he has been calling your name, you're even more embarrassed by your thoughts.

"I'm sorry. That was too much, I shouldn't have. We can go sit now." His eyes are looking straight at you, letting you know he's being sincere.

"I need some air."

Without even bothering to wait for a confirmation that he is following or not, you make your way to the side door of the club. The autumn breeze hits your skin as soon as you step into the alley, instantly calming your hormones down.

Hands cover your face in shame after reclining on the wall. Can you stop acting like it was the first time you felt a penies? Because even if it hasn't happened in a while, it doesn't mean the score goes back to zero.

"Should I bring Hoseok?" Yoongi asks a few steps in front of you and you jump a little, shaking your head after.

"I'm good. You can go back in."

"I'm not leaving you alone here. Do you want him or Mai to kill me?"

A small chuckle leaves your throat and one from him follows it.

"And you think he wouldn't kill you for—" stop. You can't think about it.

"For dancing like that with you? Probably. But he also set this date up, so..." Out of the corner of your eye you can see him shrug, "can't complain unless you hate me now."

"I don't hate you."

"Is okay if you do."

"It… it just surprised me."

"In a bad or good way?"

"A good one." You answer directly in a strain of honesty.

"So you're not really the casual type, uh?" He teases after a couple seconds of silence.

"Maybe I just don't like doing casual in the middle of the club," you defend.

"I don't know, you were the one that kept humping into me."

Your mouth opens and closes, finally looking at him and his stupid lips pull up in a smirk. You want to erase it so bad.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And you do.

Skipping forward, right hand flying to the back of his neck to pull him in and you're able to touch his lips with yours.

He is quick to react. Kissing you back, his hands on either side of your waist pulling your body into his. But you're trying to prove a point, to defend yourself. So, you pull away slightly, making sure your lips are just about to touch.

He pulls in.

Allowing just a peck, you move.

You kind of regret not using your cherry lip gloss, because you know for sure that knowing you're so close for him to smell it but not taste it, would be the biggest tease.

You let him lean in again, not moving this time and he sighs. You smile against his lips just before his tongue asks for permission to enter your mouth. Again, you regret your simple choice of a simple red lip tint, but remind yourself that this date wasn't supposed to go like this. That Yoongi doesn't seem like the guy he was supposed to be, not what he was advertised by your friends.

Fighting back control, your left arm joins the other around his neck, moving your lips expertly and feeling his chest rise and fall quickly against yours. Is pretty much the position you were in on the dance floor minus the grinding.

Casual in the middle of the club is not your thing. Casual in general is actually not something you have experience with. But kissing? You've mastered it thanks to your past relationships and the avoidance of jumping into someone's bed right from the start.

A moan vibrates through your lips against Yoongi's, and even if it's part of the routine, you must admit is pretty real. A soft groan is his answer and the cue for your heels to touch the floor again. His hold tightens in reaction, making your dress rise up and covering a couple inches less of your thighs. Suddenly you're aware of the wind again as a breeze runs up your legs, towards the center of your panties.

Your breath caughts on your throat and Yoongi swallows any sounds before pulling away.

"Fuck," he breaths heavily, "we've to stop."

"Why? Are you not really the casual type?" You tease, stealing his line.

The left corner of his mouth lifts, before falling again in a millisecond. "Not with you."

Should I’ve added “cliffhanger” to the warnings? haha i swear is gonna be okayyyy ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland . hope you guys like this one <3

➪ The squad. | ➪ 02 | ➪ Updates for this verse ➪ Ko-fi | ➪ ♡ Tag list info ➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats

[myspacebrat]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬.

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a new life in a seemingly nice town sounds appealing, doesn’t it? But what happens when that nice town has a dark past; and some things you think are real, are just a figment of your imagination…or are they?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: modern setting, small mention of dying, angst, cliffhanger.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this whole idea came about from the books ‘scary stories to tell in the dark’ (which were my fav as a kid), it’s so different from my usual stuff so i hope you enjoy the little switch up (: thank you to my lovely betas @xxhellfirebunnyxx & @stveharringtn <3 totally set this up for a part two with possible smut, maybe? in the wise words of Dolly: ‘give us your ghost cock, Edward!’

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

The red and green leaves crunch under the soles of your mary janes as you walk through forest hills trailer park, your new place of residence. You send a quick message to the group chat that you have with your cousins, who you're on your way to meet at a new bar in town. A slight chill runs through your body when you make it to the rickety bench bus stop that sits desolated in front of the trailer park entrance. 

You had moved to Hawkins a couple months ago on a whim, to be near your cousins who you’ve had a close relationship with since you were a toddler, despite only seeing them once a year or on the occasional social media posts. You had moved with only a year of savings and nothing else to your name. Luckily your aunt had a realtor friend who helped you buy a trailer, which was about the only thing with a cheap enough down payment for you to afford. You found a job at Hawkins middle school as a teacher's aide to Hailey Sinclare who you've become good friends with in the short time span.

The breeze picks up, kicking you out of your reverie and making you wiggle uncomfortably as the old wood digs into your black nylon tights, you lift each thigh to look for any snags in the fabric but before you can fully asses them, you hear footsteps and the loud crunch of leaves moving closer towards you– a gasp leaves your lips as you whip your head around looking for other signs of life. The sun is setting on the horizon and the only thing that surrounds you are the leafless scads of trees from the eerie woods.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” The voice of a young man utters from behind you, seemingly coming out of nowhere. 

“Oh, um its- its fine.” You murmur as he comes into view, you haven't seen him around but that's not saying much considering you've only moved here two months ago.

His long shoulder length waves sway with the breeze, and his big brown eyes seem to bore into your soul, making you swallow harshly before your head lowers. You begin staring at your black shoes, checking them over for scuffs, as if that was something you actually cared about.

“So where are you headed, lookin’ so pretty?” He asks with a half smirk, all the while placing his jean jacket that is embellished with an array of patches and buttons over the bench. Most of the bands were ones your dad listened to so in turn you grew to love. You were surprised to not find one single patch or button of a more modern band, but figured he must love the old stuff, that’s respectable. 

“I’m meeting my cousins at some bar in town.” You say with a gesture of your hand in the wrong direction, not yet accustomed to where town is or where the leaving hawkins sign sits, which happens to be in opposite directions. 

He smirks as if he realizes you don't belong here, and a feeling of embarrassment heats your soft cheeks. 

“Sounds fun.” Is all he says as he kicks at some rocks and leaves with his dirty reeboks. 

“Where are you headed?” You ask, feeling a pull to keep the conversations going with this stranger. 

“Oh ya know? Wherever.” Is all he divulges with a shrug of his shoulders, you nod in faux understanding, even if a million questions begin to rack your brain. Maybe he wants to appear mysterious, he wouldn't be the first guy to try that out on you.

He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear and fishes a lighter out of his pocket, lighting the tobacco stick before offering it to you. You decline, a part of you is surprised he doesn't vape like the majority of today’s youth. The smell brings a sense of nostalgia to you, remembering the times you’d climb into your grandpa's lap when you were a kid while he smoked his cigarettes and drank his coffee. 

“What's your name?” He asks as his eyes continue to graze over you. 

You tell him, but find yourself unable to meet his eyes. Something about his big chocolate orbs make goosebumps travel along your already chilled skin.

“And yours?” You question with a tremulous edge. 

“Eddie.” He answers before flicking the half smoked cigarette into the overgrown grass, beneath your feet.

“You live here, Eddie?” You ask curiously. 

“Sure do, lot 15, been here almost all my life.” He hums, before a vibration in your back pocket startles you out of your stupor.

You quickly pull it out, smiling at the text message your cousin Bella sent you. 

“Whoa…what is that?” The boy you now know as Eddie, says with an astonished lilt. 

“What’s what?” You shriek as if he was gonna point out some type of bug species that had somehow found its way into your hair or on your body.

“That thing in your hands.” He says pointedly.

“Oh, uh this is my phone?” You can't help the questioning tone that slips past your lips. 

“Phone? Like you can call people on that?” He still sounds astonished as if he's never seen an iphone before, which living in this century is close to impossible; unless he was amish but from the look of him, you found that highly unlikely. 

Before you could answer his unusual question, the loud brakes of a bus pulls up alongside the bench. Eddie quickly stands, throwing you one more questioning look before he begins walking towards the open doors. 

“Well, see ya around sweetheart.” He announces, before throwing you a wink and stepping up onto the platform of the bus that was headed in the opposite direction in which you needed to go. 

“See ya.” You murmur back with a smile. 

The wind picks up as the bus begins to drive off, leaving you to cross your arms over your exposed chest. Something out of your peripheral captures your attention, and you quickly realize Eddie had left his vest thrown over the bench. You yank it off and stand up, ready to run towards the bus to retrieve it. But the bus’s tail lights can now barely be made out in the fog, too far for you to catch up with on foot. You huff and throw the vest over your frame, the added layer brings a desired warmth to your body. You sit back down, the bench squeaks underneath you as the sun begins settling deeper over Hawkins, bringing with it an unsettling feeling to your gut.

The bus pulled up ten minutes after Eddie had left. You made it to the bar to meet your cousins an hour late but had a great time with them nonetheless. Drinks and shots were passed around, you had danced your ass off having the time of your life, something that hasn't happened in what feels like forever. 

Being closer to the city, you were able to take an uber back home all the while Eddie’s vest continued to adorn your figure. His brown eyes, ringed fingers and boyish smile stayed in the back of your mind the entire night, and a part of you couldn’t wait to return it to him. 

You wake up the next morning on a mission, drinking your cup of joe and eating your avocado toast, before you shower and slip on a pretty flowy dress with your platform doc martens, hair styled and light makeup applied. 

You realize as you walk the trailer park with his vest in hand, that he lives on the other side of you. Lot 15 comes into view and you see an old red truck that looks like it hasn’t been driven in years, parked next to a new silver prius. The steps are falling apart and the couch sitting on the porch sags, with stains and cigarette burns. 

You knock on the dingy front door, before you bring your slumped shoulders up while pushing your chest out in an attempt to look more confident, even as your heart thumps behind your rib cage.

A middle aged woman answers the door with a small smile—

“Hello, can I help you with something?” She asks sweetly. 

The beep of a machine captures your attention and you find yourself looking past the ladies shoulder into the living room, where an older man is lying in a hospital bed, sitting in front of an old television set that's playing cowboy westerns.

“Yeah, um Is Eddie here?” You ask timidly.

“I’m sorry, who?” The woman's eyes are wide as she looks you over, eyes almost as big as saucers when she notices the vest in your arms.

“Eddie; long hair, brown eyes, rings on his fingers, owns this vest.” You say as you lift the gramnet closer towards her, revealing the big dio patch that’s sewn on in the back, 

“I’m sorry, is this some kind of joke?” She says with a bewildered expression.

“A joke? Why would this be a joke? Is Eddie here or not?” You slightly snap as your patience begins to wear thin.

“Sweetheart, Eddie Munson died in an earthquake thirty seven years ago.”

[allastoredeer]

Would you have any bottom Alastor fanfics to suggest? Ever since I came across your blog I’ve been hyper fixated on that idea but I can’t seem to find any

Surely!

I only just realized I have a total of 15 Hazbin fics bookmarked on AO3 😅 but I have a lot in my "Marked for Later" tab, and I'm sure I'll come across more bottom!Alastor fics there when I get around to going through it.

Of course, look over the tags before reading these fics, some of them are more explicit than others.

Here are the ones I've read and enjoyed:

Unhealthy Attachments by Keelywolfe (RadioApple)

Lucifer never thought to ask before what Alastor got out of having sex with him. Probably won't regret asking, right?

Right?

(Post Season Finale)

<><>

A Failure of Business Negotiation by Drowsy_Salamander (RadioStatic)

It began, as many things did for Alastor, out of curiosity. A tryst with Vox to decide whether sex was worth the hype, a neat and simple dynamic on Alastor's end. However, Vox clearly developed other ideas about what was going on and thus proceeded to utterly ruin everything between them by proposing a formal alliance.

... Alternatively: how Vox and Alastor became exes without ever dating

(NOTE: The smut is more alluded to than explicitly written, but I really enjoyed a deep dive into Alastor's brain and his thoughts surrounding sex. It was very enjoyable to read).

<><><>

601 by ChildishSadism (RadioStatic)

Humans aren't aware that the dark desires in their hearts give demons a clear path to earth. A soul in hell can be tasty but a pure soul from the human world was a delicacy that many demons fought for. Vox enjoyed indulging in this pleasure once in a while, it made his teeth feel sharper and his claws deathlier.

It was such a shame that maybe, he should have kept an eye around in case someone else was ready to steal his meal.

or Vox possesses a priest to try to harvest more souls and Alastor possesses a nun to steal his catch.

(REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS)

<><><>

Lucifer and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by Keelywolfe (RadioApple)

(NOTE: This one is actually a series. I haven't finished it yet, but it has a lot of yummy bottom!Alastor content)

<><><>

Time to Dance by voland_xx (RadioStatic)

Building a time machine is never a good idea, especially when you’re in Hell.

Sir Pentious’s newest “invention” shocks the residents of Hazbin Hotel (+1) back into their human forms. Alastor and Vox navigate this new adjustment.

or, a demon gets voraciously, hungrily obsessed with a pretty man. What’s new.

<><><>

A Poison for Lust by MatcHoMetriC (Alestial - Alastor x Zestial)

Zestial & Alastor do some 'experimentation' on how the Vee's love potion actually works

<><><>

These are all the ones I have right now, but I'm sure I have a more squirreled away in my Marked for Later tab. If you're looking for more bottom!Alastor I definitely recommend looking through the bottom!Alastor tag! <- I actually just barely glanced through it and found one that looks very interesting, this is this one, if anyone is interested:

Devil's Threeway by Mixkarules18

All Alastor was trying to do was fetch Lucifer for Charlie. It was simple, nothing should have come from it.

However, the Overlord sees something that no one else was meant to and Lucifer decides to have a little fun with him.

Or alternatively:

Two Lucifer’s, one hole

(Tell me that doesn't sound like a fantastic read! I'll be sitting down to give it a looksie right after I post this LOL)

If anyone else has a bottom!Alastor fics they'd like to recommend, send them my way! I have a mighty need

[ikigaisvt]

lucky

in which your boyfriend realizes how lucky he is to have you.

pairing: idol!jeonghan x gender neutral!reader words: 1.6k content: fluff, comfort warnings: jeonghan is exhausted/sad and he cries, petnames (for jeonghan: angel, babe, baby, love / for reader: precious), mention of food and eating. note 1.0: omg sammy posting smth?!?? thought we'd never see that again,,, felt like writing fluff lately since i feel there's a Lot of smut for seventeen so here i am feeding my own wishes note 2.0: this idea came after seeing the last inside seventeen where jeonghan looked tired at the end (and it's so unusual of him, to show how tough something is). also felt awful yesterday night, and instead of being comforted by him, i wished to comfort him. minors are allowed to interact but please don't follow. hope everyone likes it, please be nice i haven't wrote anything in month,, reblog/feedbacks are always appreciated!

Jeonghan has always felt lucky to be an idol. Of course, as any job does, it has its downsides – and this one has a lot, despite what he can say. He never once complained about his job, no matter what can happen. Being able to share his love for music to his fans, his brothers by his side is the biggest blessing of his life. That is well known to his family, his fans but mostly you, his partner, who hears him pours his heart out about his job until dawn.

However, there are days when it is harder than usual; days where practice or filming is so hard, he wishes to go home and sleep the worries away; days where he questions if he actually was made for that job. Today, that came in the form of a hard practice. What maybe Jeonghan hasn’t realized yet is how lucky he is to have you, especially at the end of a tough day.

 You haven’t seen your boyfriend a lot lately as he was busier than usual; preparing for his new comeback as well as going overseas to film content. However, as he has been back from Hungary a few days ago, you knew you’d be able to see him again today. You spent hours cleaning your apartment, cooking his favorite meals and stocking up on his favorite drinks, picking shows and music to listen to so you could spend the night talking, catching up together and laughing at the new memories he made. You were looking forward to it, but most importantly, you were looking forward to seeing him again. To feel his presence, to hear his voice and laugh and to be able to touch him. Oh, how much you missed him.

As you finished preparing everything for him, you were lounging on your couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. Looking at the hour on your phone, you realized it was almost 11pm – which meant you were only minutes away from seeing your boyfriend. Getting up from the couch, you went to the kitchen to warm up his meal. You started pulling out different plates – jajagmyeon, tangsuyuk, kimchi pancakes and tteokbokki. "Okay, maybe I made too much this time, but I just want him to eat well," you think out loud. While you were filling smaller plates with side dishes, you heard the door opening, signaling that your boyfriend was finally home. Leaving the food behind, you left the kitchen to find your boyfriend – disheveled, hair picking out in all ways and tiredness showing on his face, struggling to get his shoes off.

“Jeonghan,” you call out to him softly, his head lifting up to find your eyes. And that’s when you realize how tired he really is. His smile is meekly showing up, his hair looks like he ran his hand through it multiple times – which is something he does when he is frustrated, dark circles are showing under his eyes but mostly, his eyes look sad, the usual playful lightness in them gone. “Are you okay?” you ask, your hand reaching out to him to let him know he is not alone.

“I-” he starts, his voice breaking a little bit, before clearing his throat, “I’m okay, I just can’t seem to get my shoes off.” he says, bending once again to work on the shoelaces.

You watch him for only a few seconds before sitting on the little step in your entryway, “Here, let me help you,” you say, gently tapping the floor in front of you, silently telling him to put his feet forward as you chase his fingers away.

“Babe, no-” he starts protesting, his fingers brushing with yours, trying to untie the knot faster.

“Shh,” you say calmly, getting a hold of his fingers, squeezing and letting go to work on the knots again, his feet slightly moving towards you, “You really tightened those well. That’s good, don’t want you falling down on your shoelaces during practice.” You say lightly, trying to make your boyfriend lighten up. You get his first shoe off, placing it gently next to yours, before working on the second one. As you were almost done with the second knot, you feel something wet falling on your hand, and you look up to see Jeonghan looking down at you, eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, getting a hold of his hand, “You’re okay, it’s fine,” you reassure him, squeezing his fingers tighter as he looks away from you, ears slightly red from the embarrassment of crying in front of you, his girlfriend. That’s such a Jeonghan thing, you tell yourself, “Let me get this one off and then we’ll get you to the couch, okay?” you tell him, earning a little nod as an answer. You get his second shoe off in record time and gently get up from the ground as you reach out for his hand, pulling him behind you as you lead him to the living room.

Reaching the couch, you make him sit down first before sitting down next to him, pulling your linked hands on your lap, your thumb slightly caressing his hand, “Are you okay?” you ask gently, trying to find his eyes but all he does is look down at his lap.

“I’m okay- Sorry about all this, practice was hard and I know you were excited about having a good time but stuffs happened and yeah-” he starts ranting as you listen intently to whatever he has to say, “Ah, sorry again. I’m rambling. I’m okay,” he says again, almost as he tries to convince himself, too, “Really.” He confirms as he meets your eyes, his smile not even reaching his cheeks.

“Love, you may be able to lie to your members but this doesn’t work with me,” you chuckle slightly, “What can I do?”

“I-” he starts, blush creeping on his neck again, his eyes looking around the room, “Will you hold me?” he whispers, hoping you heard him right as he finds your eyes again.

“Of course, angel,” you say as you lean back on the couch, opening your arms for him, his head finding a place to rest on your chest, “Let’s just stay like that for a little while, hm?” you whisper as you start running your fingers through his hair, “You can tell me anything, in case you need to pour it out.”

A few minutes passes by where you can only hear his soft breath – and little sniffles, his body slightly relaxing into yours as if it realizes it’s now finally home. “Practice was so hard today,” he says softly, his arm squeezing your waist a little more, your shirt getting wet with more tears, “That new choreography requires so much attention to details and we need to keep our energy up throughout all of it. I guess I wasn’t prepared to put that much work in it today.” He sighs as you let him know you’re still listening through little hums, “And we’ve just been back from Hungary, my body is still used to that time zone so I have a hard time sleeping. Also, I’ve missed you so I haven’t been able to recharge my batteries at all.” He admits, knowing he would have felt better if he saw you more in the past month.

“I’ve missed you too,” you tell him, leaving a little kiss on the top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, “For my mood and for ruining tonight.” He says softly, as more tears fall down.

“Baby, angel,” you say, your voice almost breaking to seeing your boyfriend like this, “Please don’t ever be sorry. Your job is not easy, you’re doing so much at all times and you do it well. It’s only normal for you to break down from time to time,” you whisper, running your fingers down his back, “I am so glad you decided to still come to me. It means the world. Please always come to me,” you tell him as he looks up at you, “Anytime you break down, I’ll help you build yourself up stronger, okay? You didn’t ruin anything, you’ll never do so. Your presence is always welcomed, no matter your mood. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, precious.” He says, as he gets up a little to meet your lips. You can taste the sadness – and the saltiness of his tears – on his lips as you take it away from him, take everything bad away from him, lodging it deep in your own body. So it can never hurt him again. You kiss once, you kiss twice, you kiss thrice; you kiss until there is no more sadness within him. You kiss until he can feel how you will always be here for him.

“Feeling better?” you question as you pull away from his lips, brushing hair out of his face and meeting his now shining eyes.

“Very much so,” he chuckles lightly, his forehead resting on yours, “Thank you,” he says, leaving a kiss on your forehead before finding rest on your shoulder.

“Wanna eat now?” you ask, still running your fingers along his back.

“Yes actually,” he says, looking up at you, “I’m so hungry,” he says in a whisper, still making no attempt to move away from you.

 “I made so much, I hope you’ll love it,” you answer him, still not getting up either.

“Let’s just- Let’s just stay like this for a little longer, hm?” he tells you, wrapping his arms around your middle, cuddling even closer – if that’s even possible, “Food can wait.”

Jeonghan truly feels lucky to be an idol – on most days, at least. But if he had to mention one thing, he feels the luckiest about – it’s to be your boyfriend.

aaaaa thank you so much for reading! i forgot how nervewracking it was to post something- please like, reblog, comment and i'll love you forever!!

[misc-obeyme]

heyyy!!!! It's for the Kinktober list \o/

Solomon and breeding kink please babes ❤️

Drink water, sleep 8 hours and eat three healthy meals a day!!! Luvoo

Hey there, anon!

Okay I already had a prompt for Solomon for Kinktober when I got this ask, but I was like listen. Is it really a CC event if I don't get more requests for Solomon than any other character? So now I feel like it's just tradition.

Also I can't believe I didn't include Solomon's pact marks in the other kinktober post I wrote for him! I didn't even realize until I'd posted it and then I was like how is it that I didn't mention them at all?? I'm so into it, it's ridiculous and yet... anyway, this gave me the chance to include them so I feel that makes up for it a little bit. One of these days I'm gonna write a smut fic that's like... about those marks 'cause they just do something to me.

Anyway, I did afab reader so hopefully that's okay! I also feel the need to thank you for telling me to drink water and so on. Those are all things I almost never do lol. Sometimes I eat three meals a day, but are they healthy?? No. They aren't. Right, sorry for the ramblings lol.

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

KINKTOBER 2023

AFAB!MC x Solomon

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: breeding, penetration (reader receiving)

You were on the sofa in Cocytus Hall in the middle of a heavy make out session with Solomon when you pulled away. Solomon let out a breath at the loss of your lips, but he didn't say anything. You met his eyes, saw the desire in them and the question.

You reached down deliberately to put your hand on his erection. Solomon closed his eyes and tensed, trying not to react to the feeling of it.

"We haven't even been doing this that long and you're already hard," you said quietly.

Solomon took hold of your wrist and pulled your hand up. He leaned in, his lips against your ear. "I'm sorry, MC. I guess I'm just that eager to breed you."

A thrill ran down your spine and you shuddered in his arms. Your reaction caused him to laugh softly against your skin.

"Ah, I knew it," he said. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

You flushed, but you couldn't exactly disagree. "So what if it is?"

Solomon laughed again. "You're so cute, MC," he said. "But you don't have to hold back. If that's what you want, all you have to do is say it."

You huffed. You tried to look away from him, but the close proximity made it difficult. You considered refusing to say anything else, but your own arousal was creeping in now and you didn't think you would actually be able to resist him.

You switched tactics, turning into him. You pulled your wrist from his hand and tugged on his belt buckle. You pressed your lips to his neck and said, "I want you to breed me, Solomon."

Solomon pulled you up off the sofa, his hands already moving beneath the fabric of your clothes. He removed your shirt, kissing along your collarbones as you finally unbuckled his belt. Your pants went next, soon followed by his cloak and shirt, too.

You paused now that Solomon's bare chest was before you. You looked into his eyes for a moment. He waited to see what you would do.

You ran your fingertips over his pact marks. He stayed still as you did so, patiently watching you. It wasn't as though you hadn't seen them before, but most of the time it was easy to forget they were there, hidden beneath his clothes.

Solomon allowed you to be mesmerized by them for a few moments before he turned you around and pulled you against him. Your back nestled against his chest. He still had his pants on, but they were open enough to let his cock free and you could feel it pressed against you. Solomon's lips trailed down your neck, his fingertips trailing beneath the waistband of your underwear.

You felt your body heat up and found yourself filled with impatience. If you let him, Solomon would continue to tease you for some time before finally giving you what you wanted. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You removed your underwear yourself, adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Then you put your knees on the sofa, bracing yourself against the back of it.

You arched your back and said, "Hurry up, I can't wait anymore."

Solomon made a groaning sound behind you, but you couldn't see him anymore. It was only moments before you felt him behind you. He kissed down your spine while reaching around to stimulate your clit with his fingers. You pushed against them, letting out a small moan as you sought more of that feeling.

"Solomon, please," you begged.

As you had hoped, that was enough to make him finally push his cock inside you. You were wet and ready, taking it in easily and moaning at the way it felt.

Solomon didn't hold back now. He had one hand on your hip and one hand on your clit as he pounded into you. The angle allowed for deep penetration and you felt your body unraveling with each thrust. The sparks of pleasure ran through your veins, the tension building in your legs and your back, your muscles tightening.

The hand on your hip moved up to rest on your back as Solomon leaned forward further. "You're so ready for me," he said, his voice heavy and shaking with his own impending orgasm. "I'm going to fill you up."

You cried out incoherently as you came, his words sending you right over the edge. Solomon seemed to anticipate this, both hands moving to hold your hips steady as you clenched around him.

Just as he promised, you could feel his hot cum filling you up as he came, your name spilling sweetly from his lips.

From then on, you found it was a simple matter to get Solomon to breed you. As he had said himself, all you had to do was say it.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[chaoticloving]

take it off

Harry Styles x reader (SOH)

Summary: Right before sex, Harry sees something on Y/n that he's never seen before. masterlist

warnings: light smut, boobs<3, mentions of stick and pokes

w/c: 0.9k

a/n: little blurb since i haven't posted in forever! but i promise i'm writing im just crazy stressed <3 also i am in love with tattoos so much and this is just an indulgent on that lol

"Fuck-"

"Don't you dare stop."

"Wasn't planning on it." Harry moaned, his hand slowly feeling up and down Y/n's body. His lips reattached to hers. "You taste so good."

A steamy night that consisted of teasing hands under the table and kisses when no one was looking. It was a blur to get out of the London club, Harry just remembers Y/n's hand squeezing his ass. They had luckily ran away from the paparazzi that was just arriving to the club before they could get any compromising photos.

But now, in the comfort of Harry's flat, they could be as messy and in love as they want.

"Take off your shirt H." She mumbled, Y/n's mouth trailing down his jaw line.

"Only if you take off yours." Harry could feel Y/n smile against his cheek, leaving one last kiss there before breaking away.

"You're lucky you're so cute." When Y/n grabbed the hemming of her shirt, Harry tore off his, too impatient to wait any longer. Harry ended up helping Y/n take the shirt off; he hasn't quite realized that Y/n always takes longer to take off her shirt just to see Harry get all squeamish.

When Y/n's shirt is removed, she's left in a lace bra that Harry absolutely drools over. He goes headfirst into her neck, kissing slowly and sensually. His hand feeling her left breast while Y/n's hand find Harry's hair and pulls slightly.

"Can I take off your bra." He whispers, figures trailing over the straps. "Please."

She mumbled a faint yes under her breath and Harry is quick to react. Harry climbs more on top of her right after he bra comes off; Harry's mouth goes right on her skin, starting on her perfect jaw line and going lower onto her neck then onto her breast.

Harry was going to continue on but he saw some mark near his hand. He lifts his head to take a second glance and moves his hand from the side of her boob to her lower waist. He saw some black ink, and he knew it wasn't from his hand.

"What's wrong?" Y/n leaned up on her elbows to get a look at what happened and why Harry's mouth isn't on her. The only touch she was getting--other then Harry resting on her --was from Harry's finger on the side of her body. "Why are you poking me?"

"You have a tattoo?"

"Uhm, yeah?" She stated it like a question, but was curious to know the problem. "Why are you acting like this? It's just a crescent tattoo."

"I just didn't realize you had one" He admitted. "Does that make me a bad boyfriend?"

"You never noticed the tattoo on my boobs?" She gasped, shocked smile on her face. "But your obsessed with them how have you not noticed it?"

"In my defense the tattoo is on the side of your boobs." Harry unconsciously held her other breast, it made her giggle a bit, just out of pure ridiculous. "You know I like to see them straight on."

"Do you like it?"

"Your boobs? Of course!" Harry quickly said, kissing her nipples quickly then gently then kissed her face.

"The tattoo, love."

"Well, I love it too!" Harry quickly said. "I just felt bad that I haven't realized until now."

"Good because I have an appointment to next week for another." She kissed the side of his cheek, sitting up to do so.

"Ohh, what'cha planning on?"

"I want to get it on my thigh but I'm not sure if I want to replace the stick and poke I did in school or not." She shrugged, her finger trailing over the tattoo collection on his chest. She didn't want to admit it out loud, but tattoo's were always such a turn on for her. Little intricate designs all over Harry, they just looked amazing.

"Stick and poke in school? What crowd were you hanging out with?" Harry laughed.

"I did it myself actually." Her hand ghosting over her thigh. "Not very well obviously. But the tattoos I did on others were pretty good, should still be on them."

"You gave out tattoo's? How old were you?"

"Dunno, maybe sixteen?"

"Sixteen?" Harry's mouth was wide open, smiling a little, but mainly in shock. "And you were already a tattoo artist?"

"I was a girl with ink and a clean needle." Y/n shrugged. "They offered like fifty quid per tattoo too, and I really wanted more clothes ." She laughed, looking back up towards Harry.

Y/n's hand trailed lower to Harry's groin, he moaned which caused Harry to loose all focus of tattoos and lean in to kiss her. It got heated quickly but it was no surprise since they were about to have sex a couple minutes before. Harry's hand rested on her tattoo and side boob, his finger started tracing the tattoo too, starting to slowly memorize it just like Y/n has done with all of his tattoos.

"Can you do one for me?" Harry asked. "I want one thats in an area close to my dick and I don't really want a tattoo artist to see that." They both laughed, Y/n starting to give a hickey on the side of Harry's neck.

"I didn't hear an answer." Harry complained then gasped when the Y/n lightly bit down.

"I'll give you a tattoo." She decided. "But I don't take normal payment methods."

Harry chuckled, giving her a kiss. "I think I can give you something else."

Tag list

@uhuhuh @sucker4angstt @b-reads-things @augustfaultline @bxtchboy69 @japanchrry @lilbredsticc @daydreamingofmatilda @springholland @cacapeepee @yourgoldengirls @tenaciousperfectionunknown @timmyslover @mxltifxnd0m @lukewearingbeanies @haarrrys 

[maemisnippets]

Lil Update

Apologies for the inactivity. Here's a pouty Yujin as a sign of life from me.

Just a lil update below (be warned: kinda sad)

You writing again?

To be honest with yall, the last snippet I posted (the one posted just now) was written last December. It's actually unfinished, just missing a humorous ending or witty finishing sentence or smthn, but I got too lazy to think of one. Thought I'd post it now cuz I do kinda miss being on Tumblr.

Anyways, in all honesty, I don't feel like writing anymore. While I don't know why exactly, all I know is that I've lost a lot of motivation in writing and reading smuts in general. If anyone has checked my blog the past few months, yall might have noticed that I have closed requests for a while now, and it will stay closed for a long while. Asks and commissions are still open tho.

How am I?

Can't say I'm good, but can't say I'm doing bad either. College is still taking most of my waking hours. I'm almost done tho! Just about halfway through my last year of college, but this shit fuckin sucks. Glad it's almost over.

If anything, I can say I'm doing better. I visited family these past few months and that went well. Did a lot of stuff with them, caught up with cousins I haven't seen in a very long time, and overall had a really great time. Makes me realize how grateful I should be for even the little things in life.

Boonker?

Yeah left that shit. Not coming back.

I've already said my reasons on why I left to a few people, but in short, it's just not the same place it used to be. I still keep in touch with some people I met here tho, and my discord and tumblr DMs are always open for those who still bother having me around.

Any chance of a comeback?

Not in the near future, but not impossible. It seems to be a trend among "retired" writers to come back eventually so, maybe someday I'll come back as well.

Yujin? Kep1er?

Yujin (the Choi variant) still the loml. And Kep1er always in my heart. STAN KEP1ER YOU FUCKS

If you made it here, have another Yujin

[onebizarrekai]

Fic Author Interview

I've been tagged by @unmaskedcardinal! been a while since I talked about any of this stuff, particularly as a very inconsistent fic poster haha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

the visible number linked to my account is currently 60, no idea if this is counting the bizarre saga from my archive account or not. technically I've posted more, but they aren't part of that number.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

567,314.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

ibvs season 1 & season 2 are (thankfully) the top two on my account, considering they're… well. ibvs.

number 3 is formal humiliation, a utmv fic back in 2019 where I wrote 3 oneshots all with different pairs surrounding the same idea. it's uh, it's something.

4 is behave, a saiouma despair disease fic I wrote sort of ironically in 2020. I did not realize this weird oneshot would be the thing that jumpstarted my kage obsession.

5, for some reason, is glow, a ds fic I wrote in 2019. I do not know why this is the ds fic with the most kudos. I am just really glad that it's not one of the ones I wrote in 2018.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

lately I have been trying to respond to more comments, if they're on a recent enough story and I can think of a way to answer.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

most of the fics I've written right now have been Random Spot In Time fics with no articulate ending, but game over is pretty edgy. I think. I've written a similarly edgy ending but it's in an anonymous fic. it occurs to me that edgy doesn't necessarily mean angst, but it can.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

somehow everyone lived happily ever after in the bizarre saga, no f'ing idea how they managed that

7. Do you write crossovers?

I have. I have as comedies. I tend to take a bunch of guys and put them in a new setting that they definitely shouldn't be in. poopenster high is an example of this, but none of that has ever touched the internet and I haven't touched it in like 2 years.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

oh my god like. maybe once? maybe? I don't even think it counted as hate. I think like several years ago some rando complained that season 2 of ibvs was trying too hard to be funny. I barely remember what it actually said, I just remember it being annoying.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

when I was in my v3 phase I wrote some, I think "feelings with smut" describes most of it decently. the nature of the kcu meant it was like, almost all trippy.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I dunno. I hope not. I think I've had people repost stuff without permission.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

probably?? when I was a teen I had people say they wanted to translate my utmv fics, I don't know which ones actually followed through anymore.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

(sigh) yes.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

oh god, I think I honestly just phase around stuff. I don't think I've ever permanently latched onto a pair, it's just that I've had fandoms and I have pairs that I've ended up liking in them and they just sort of stay that way even if stop paying attention to the fandom. I like most ships that happens to fit into my favorite criteria (that being protagonist/morally ambiguous deuteragonist or antagonist). if you asked me what my favorite series is, it would be an easier question. it's zelda. but I don't really have any permanent favorite ships in zelda.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

this is a scary question because I have a number of major wips that I want to get back into once I get back into writing and I refuse to accept that they may not get finished. I don't know. moose hill? for a little while I wanted to see if I could come up with a whole side story, but it is extremely unlikely that will happen. maybe a better example is a continuation of shuichi and kage's blackout adventure, which is pretty low on the priority list for if my brain every gets infected by danganronpa again.

15. What are your writing strengths?

the jokes are very important. I put my heart and soul into them. I hope that people can see my vision when I tell them.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

actually doing the writing getting from point A to point B. I come up with this whole outline and realize there's 2000 words of empty space that needs to happen. and it's like dull shit, too. just plain old events. like look at them, it's the lunching hours again. because lunch is a thing that happens every day. is it redundant to have lunch too many times? it can't possibly! it's the only time they can talk to each other! do I need to pan the camera again because this 3 sentence exchange has dragged on for too long? help

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

makes sense to me. or like, depends on the context. if the POV is a character who can speak the language, the reader should probably get to know what they're saying (think like, subtitled sections of a movie), unless it's really easy to decipher. but if the POV can't understand it, the reader shouldn't necessarily know. it gets more complicated if it takes place in a setting where they should logically be speaking a language that is not english for example. like, if they're in a country where they are not speaking english but the fic is in english. it wouldn't really make sense to insert interjections in their home language because they're not speaking english in the first place. I guess it all depends on what you're trying to convey.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

sonic. does it count. I started writing once I was old enough to type. but I think the first story I ever put online was zelda.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

on occasion I entertain the idea of writing for corpse party, but that's probably not going to happen.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm going to not include that one anonymous fic and my pile of unfinished longfic wips that I've been proud of in past years is way too big so… maybe game over?? it's complicated. I have a ton of comedy pieces that I love but they're just… not completed!!

[ feel free to fill this out yourself if you're a fic writer! ]

[suicidalslasher]

𝐿𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑔𝑜 𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑙 ★ 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝐾

{Not a full-length story as I wanted it to be, but I wanted to post something as I haven't posted in a while. Hope you enjoy this blurb - I guess you could say??? - for one of my pretty babies, Kurt. <33 }

Warnings / summary. Female reader, she&her pronouns. I think that's it. Kurt being a pervert, basically. Reader is a camgirl and Kurt is obsessed with her. That's about it. Sadly, no actual smut, it's an open ending so use your imagination, lmfaoo.

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❝You are NOT driving like this!❞  (Y/N)'s friend hissed, taking the keys away from her, dropping them into her bag and throwing it over her shoulder, out of reach from (Y/N).  "I can drive. I'm fine. G'me my keys." (Y/N) gestures over to the bag but she trips and if it weren't for her friend reaching over and grabbing her arm, she would've fallen onto the ground.  "No. No way in Hell. I'm ordering you a Spree. I'll get your car home to you by the morning. You're slurring your speech and can hardly stand up on your feet." "A-ah... It’s not called slurring your words. It’s called talking in cursive and it’s fucking elegant." "Yeah, whatever, your driver should be pulling up any minute. You're going home, you've had way too much to drink." "Oh, fuck you." (Y/N) groaned, stomping her foot as she threw a temper tantrum, the same way she would have done if she were a kid and not a twenty-one-year-old adult.  "In your dreams, baby girl. I'll see you tomorrow when you're feeling better and not acting like a total idiot." (Y/N)'s friend, who still had a tight grip on her wrist, leads her outside, despite (Y/N)'s protests of wanting to stay at the bar and have fun. "You're an asshole!" (Y/N) whines, falling onto the sidewalk as tears burn her eyes. She's quick to wipe them away and instead of crying, she pouts instead. "Love you too, sweet cheeks." With this, her friend leaves, shutting the door behind her as she leaves.  Her friend's partner was the owner of the bar therefore (Y/N) couldn't get back into the venue if she even tried.

She knew her friend had locked the doors. At least, locked (Y/N) out from getting back in, anyways.   "Hello? (Y/N) (L/N)?"  came a voice. "No, sorry, she's not here."   "You seem to match the photo perfectly," the driver replied, holding his phone out, giving it a little wave before dropping the device onto his lap.  "I'm Kurt, your driver."  

"Okay, Kurt. Whatever. You caught me."(Y/N) mumbled, confused and still a bit tipsy as she got into the backseat of the car. The driver chuckled in response as he watched her buckle herself in before driving away.

She tried to focus on the streetlights passing by, their neon glow illuminating the darkness of the late-night streets.

She felt the familiar pang of regret and embarrassment at the night's events but also realized that her friend was right.

She had had too much to drink, and it was time to face the music.

Kurt, sensing the tension, didn't break the silence. He let (Y/N) sit in her thoughts for a moment before finally speaking up.

"You know, it's not the end of the world. You'll feel better tomorrow, and your friend's just looking out for you. You can't have everything your way all the time. Besides, drunk driving is dangerous, if you didn't know already." 

(Y/N) nodded, her gaze fixed on the passing cityscape. The words hung heavy in the air, the truth sinking deep into her conscience. She had always prided herself on being independent, on making her own choices without any interference.

But tonight, the consequences of her actions had caught up with her, stripping away the façade she had so meticulously built. It didn't matter that her entire week had been shit which is why she had gotten so hammered in the first place.  

The hum of the car engine provided a soothing backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts swirling inside her head.

She couldn't deny that Kurt was right; her friend had only been trying to protect her. She was an idiot if she believed she could actually drive safely to where she lived without so much as dealing with the consequences.

"You're right," she replied softly, her voice tinted with exhaustion. "I just... It's frustrating, you know? I always seem to mess things up when I've had too much to drink."

"We all make mistakes, (Y/N). It's a natural part of learning and growing. The best decision you could have made was to accept the offer and get into the car. Not only did it save your life, but it also ensured the safety of others. You may feel foolish, but in reality, you are smarter than those who still choose to drink and drive. Remember, it's okay to have a few drinks every now and then as long as you're being responsible and, as I mentioned before, you're safe now that you're with me. You are not a threat to yourself or others." (Y/N) nodded in agreement and managed a small smile through her tears.

"Thank you... I guess I'm not as much as an idiot as I thought I was." She laughed as she wiped her eyes on the back of her sweatshirt sleeve. 

Kurt smiled back, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. The streetlights flickered outside the car, casting intermittent shadows across his face. His mind, however, remained focused on (Y/N) and the vulnerability that clouded her eyes.

"We're almost there," Kurt said softly, his voice reassuring. "You'll be in a warm bed soon enough and can sleep the night away," he said.

Kurt's words were meant to be comforting, but they only added to the uncertainty swirling inside (Y/N). The thought of a warm bed sounded appealing, but something about Kurt's smile began to make her uneasy.

She couldn't shake off the feeling of being trapped and vulnerable in this unfamiliar place. It was then that she realized.

A small, uncomfortable laugh escaped her lips as she then pointed out the obvious.

"I never gave you my address." But her attempts to brush off the situation were met with a twisted smile from Kurt that sent chills down her spine. A cold, foreboding feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

With a menacing grin, Kurt replied, "Oh yeah... I know. I'm taking you back to my place."

Her heart raced as she processed his words. His place? She couldn't even fathom what was happening.

Sitting there in utter disbelief, she felt like she was going to throw up - and this time, it had nothing to do with the alcohol she had consumed earlier.

Before she could even comprehend her surroundings, Kurt continued with a sly smirk, "You and I are going to have some fun, the kind of fun that you typically do alone." Her blood ran cold at his words.

As he looked at her through the rearview mirror, his smile only grew wider and more sinister. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks - he knew who she was.

"Because you're (Y/U/N)," he stated with satisfaction.

"I'm a huge fan." He grinned wickedly. "I figured you and I could make our own video."

"You're a disgusting, twisted pervert," (Y/N) hissed. Kurt's lips curled into a smirk as he observed her through the mirror, his eyes dark and predatory.

"Ah, ah, ah... I'm not the one using my own body to pay for rent," he replied coolly.

"If anything, you're the true pervert. All I want is one little video, and yet you act like it's such a big deal. Let's not forget that in many of your videos, you've openly admitted to having this exact fantasy. So, if anything, I'm making your dreams come true."

The words caught in (Y/N)'s throat, unable to respond. He really did watch her videos...she couldn't believe it. She sat there, stunned, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open like a fish gasping for air. Kurt chuckled at her reaction.

"Careful there, pretty," he teased, "You might catch some flies with your mouth open like that." But his tone was light and playful, not malicious. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you unless you want me to," he said with a mischievous grin. She hadn't realized it until he had pulled up to the abandoned apartment complex.

The crumbling brick and broken windows sent shivers down her spine. He turned the key off and his eyes met hers, his sinister grin still plastered on his face. Her heart raced as she waited for his next move, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" he asked.

Her breath caught in her throat as his words hung in the air, each syllable dripping with malevolence. The question lingered, a dark cloud descending upon her already trembling form.

A surge of instinctual terror surged through her veins, urging her to flee from this haunting place, from the clutches of a man so irreversibly twisted.

She fumbled for an excuse, desperately grasping at the frail threads of rationality. "No," she stammered. "I just want to go home."

His laughter was a twisted, guttural sound, devoid of any warmth or empathy. "Home?" he jeered, his eyes glinting with sadistic delight. "Oh no, sweetheart. You won't be going home just yet. You and I have a video to make." His hand snaked out and grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to look at the cameras set up in his vehicle before he brought her closer to him, warm breath tickling her skin as the smirk on his face grew bigger, bolder.

"Let's put on a good show that'll make us go viral, shall we?"

[animasola86]

A few changes are coming...

Hello, dear followers of this very blog.

The title of this post says it all: I am in the middle of re-structuring a few things around here because my focus has shifted a little.

About a year ago I started this blog as a home for my Hogwarts Legacy hyperfixation, I took a deep dive into fanfiction, into oneshots, into smut essentially. I wrote so many things centered around Sebastian Sallow it's almost embarrassing in hindsight. But I am not embarrassed, I am actually quite proud of having been able to write so much, of having a muse to guide my creative (and dirty) thoughts.

It's been a real blessing.

But as you may have noticed, my focus, my fixation, has shifted, fizzled out a little.

It started when I began writing for Professor Sharp, dipping my toes into the older man/younger woman dynamic, and to be quite honest with you, I am still knee-deep (or even deeper) in that trope. It's always been a passion (a secret kink?) of mine to have an age (and size) difference between characters, so eventually I moved away from that particular character as well and focused on characters of my own.

I'm still currently writing my original story Innocence Lost over at @animasolaoriginal (about a cowboy and a girl, a slow burn love story), but the smut writer in me has yearned for something more, so I posted a few Smut Drabbles, very short little smut scenes I couldn't put into my story yet (or ever).

And from that very sentiment of having little outlets for my horribly dirty mind, grew another idea for an original story, something I'm still working on (I'm eight chapters in already), and this time I will finish it first before I post anything, I'm forcing myself to do that, yes I will (famous last words, huh? Don't quote me on that...)!

What I'm trying to say is, this blog, that has been focused around HL and Sebastian Sallow, will turn into the smut blog it has always been, but no longer featuring our beloved freckled pixel boy. I kept my smut drabbles neutral, dropped no names, no descriptions, just, well, faceless porn really, so anyone could imagine any character in the male and female characters portrayed if they wanted to.

I find freedom in doing so, being able to write anything and not put it in the confines that is writing for British characters set in the 1890s without having to put them in various AUs all the time.

And so I'll continue writing what I like, and I hope you will follow along.

I know most of you probably also follow me for my HL screenshots that have mysteriously stopped appearing as well. I still have my vast library of posted screenshots, don't worry, they will stay (everything will stay, this is just about future content), but if I ever dive back into the game (which, tbh, I haven't played in a long while, haven't even updated yet or checked out the new photomode), I will post new screenshots on a sideblog I will have yet to make.

Just to keep this blog cleaner. And smuttier.

Imagine finding my screenshots of pretty Scottish landscapes or cute Magical beasts (or broody pixel boys) and then scrolling down to find a filthy little smut drabble right under it. It just doesn't mix well anymore. (It never did, but I only realize that now, oops, sorry to everyone who probably stayed away from my blog for that very reason).

So, to wrap this up: I will remain a smut writer, if you are in need of a little erotica to spice up your day (or night), you will always find something of the sort right here.

I'm also not leaving the HL fandom, I'm still an active follower (read: lurker), and I feel like my time has come to let other people contribute to it. And if you follow the #sebastian sallow smut tag, you'll find a lot of authors that still mainly focus on him, so if you don't want to imagine him in my anonymous smut scenarios, you'll find plenty of other sources around here, don't worry!

I, for one, want to expand my horizon a little, look into other fandoms. I've read so many fanfics/oneshots centered around characters like Joel Miller (who I loved ever since playing The Last of Us for the first time), Arthur Morgan (who inspired my cowboy phase tbh) and even characters I never knew I needed in my life, like Simon "Ghost" Riley (who I didn't even know before because I never played Call of Duty), but this is tumblr, you are exposed to a lot of things if you allow them in - and it's been an absolute blast to find new things to obsess about.

So I hope that you, dear followers, can forgive me for branching out, for turning this once HL-centered blog into not just a multi-fandom blog, but a place for smut enjoyers of all types.

Because I found my calling, and it's writing porn. It is what it is.

TL;DR:

Future screenshots will find a new home in a yet to be announced sideblog.

The content will become more neutral, so that anyone can imagine anyone in the roles of the protagonists.

(I may still write for specific characters in the future, to be determined which one, maybe I'll return to write for Sebastian Sallow or Aesop Sharp one day, who knows, I still have some unfinished WIPs after all...)

There will always be smut. Because smut is life.

And with that, I thank you very much for reading this far. And I thank you for sticking around, for enjoying my content, in the past and in the future, hopefully. Thank you for your patience with me and for joining me on new adventures!

Cheers!

[fvllingcamellia]

𝐈𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘

seeing your roommate's instagram posts can't lead to anything.. right?

suguru geto smut, masturbation, substance abuse mention, reader on rehab, reader has a rly bad mental health, at first it's some kind of philosophical shit and then i just went wild so enjoy! btw!! my inspiration was yunonoai's art on twitter, so i'll leave the link here.

you've been feeling terrible lately. you missed the feeling of your brain being stimulated by dopamine. the feeling of happiness was so distant and so unknown lately which caused you to question your entire existence. what's the point of it? you had a good job, nice salary, pretty apartment that you shared with another roommate. but does any of it have any sense? for the world, it doesn't mean anything. you're no one. nobody would remember you if you suddenly disappeared one day. those thoughts were corrupting your mind every single day since you were on rehab. it was supposed to be helpful but it was worse. but you promised, right? you promised to change – for him. suguru geto was the man who almost begged you for this. you didnt know each other for long, but when he moved into your apartment you both understood ourselves well. he wasn't a close friend of yours, just a regular roommate but he helped you to get out of drug addiction. and even if you were feeling shitty, you were extremely grateful for this.

the amount of stress you were experiencing lately was insane. during the rehab you became really sensitive and the slightest words could made you furious or sad. you've been experiencing a lot of mood swings that were exhausting in some way. the frustrations were so unbearable that you found yourself on your bed wondering how could you let all of those thoughts and feelings get away from you. you've been scrolling down on instagram checking those stupid posts and photos of your so called "friends" that doesn't even bother to text or call you to check if you're still alive. but as you've scrolled down the page you stopped. one post where geto was tagged caught your eye. this picture made you think that your roommate was actually incredibly attractive. you've never been interested in him in any romantic way. he was just a guy, a roommate to you. but as you were admiring the photo.. the more excited you felt. you didnt even realized that your hand was slowly sliding down on your abdomen. instead of looking at only one photo you started checking his entire social media activity to find more posts. and he looked so good in every photo he uploaded. you put down the phone. it was enough for you.

your fingers were moving dangerously down to your panties. at first you were hesitant about this. fuck what kind of a person masturbates to their roommate's photos. but you didn't care. it was something you NEEDED to feel right now. you slowly moved the material away and brushed your finger over your clit. you squeaked. you haven't touched yourself or had any sexual intercourse in a long time so you needed to explore your body again. you brushed your finger again, but this time over your inner lips, and oh my god since when you were so wet? you were desperate now. this feeling made you slid down your pants along with your underwear completely exposing your lower parts. suguru wasn't at home yet, he went out for some groceries about 20 minutes ago so you could be as loud as you wanted to be. you took a deep breath before touching your folds again. you started from rubbing your clitoris. your head was turned towards the phone on which still appeared suguru's photo. you looked at him imagining it was him who was pleasuring you right now. you imagined his fingers working on your pussy, abusing your sensitive clit.

gaps were leaving your mouth and free hand moved up to your chest you slid it under your bra and while stimulating your pussy you also took great care of your boobs. squeezing them, massaging, pinching your nipples doing almost everything to them. slowly you moved your fingers down, to your hole. you bit down your lower lip and you inserted one finger, pushing it slowly further. but it wasn't enough. you wanted to feel more inside, so you added another one. stretching yourself while moaning and whinning geto's name seemed like something unreal. but it was real experience, fingering yourself while fantasising about him.

– just got home satoru, cooking for y/n tonight. – suguru answered as he was opening the door to the apartment. he was on line with gojo who was complaining about his life for 45 minutes straight. – ill talk to you later.

– you fucked her finally? – the white haired man asked with a curiosity. he always had some weird speculations in his head and one of them was the theory that geto was banging his as satoru said "sweet roommate"

– dude don't be ridiculous. im hanging up. – suguru frowned and ended the call. he closed the door and started walking towards the kitchen. he placed the groceries on the counter and wanted to get changed to he went into the direction of his bedroom but he stopped midway. he couldn't believe his ears and the sounds he was hearing. whines and other octaves of moans coming from your room. most of them were his name in many varieties or words like "fuck," "i want more," "faster."

geto was completely confused. he was standing next to your door wondering who was more perverted – suguru listening to your sweet moment, or you who was pleasuring yourself while screaming his name without shame. but he decided to not make any moves and he simply went to his own bedroom as he had originally planned. but he couldn't stop thinking about you. listening to you made him hard, and geto could only imagine how you look right now and what you're doing to yourself. he had many visions of you right now. how would you look under him when he would fuck your brain out? how would you taste if he had a chance to eat you out someday? how would you look with your lips around his cock? all those thoughts lead him to the one most important question – maybe he should finally fuck you just like satoru theorised?

[kortsitron]

Rough

Pairing: Ramattra × TransMale! Reader

Warnings: smut, size kink, voice kink, porn with not much plot, post top surgery reader, pre op reader, fingering, ligh dom/sub

Summary: You teased Ramattra just the right amount to get what you wanted in the first place

MINORS DNI!

Author’s Note: Since Ramattra came out, I've noticed that there are already smut one shots with him and most of them had fem reader (if not all, maybe there was one with gender neutral reader, but i'm not sure), so I kinda wanted to write something for trans dudes cuz why nah. Little thing for you to know, I haven't wrote smut for such a long time, (last time wasn't good, it was a disaster lol) so let's hope this one is gonna be good. If it's going to be posted, then I think it's good enough. If you wanna, you can leave some tips in the comments.

Also about the other smuts, I kinda got inspired by them, so if I wrote one, I might be inspired by your work! ^^

"Could you be more careful?!" Ramattra barked, feeling something like shiver, going down his back. He wiggled a bit in the chair he was sitting in, causing you to smirk.

"You've been through worse, stop complaining." Omnic heard you chuckle, while you were repairing his back.

Normally Ramattra wouldn't let a human repair him, but when he decided to go to Shambali Monastery to meet with his brother, he had no choice. You were the only person who could repair him in Monastery, especially in places he couldn't reach himself easily. So after Zenyatta finally made him come to you, he wasn't very happy about it, especially after he had to come to your house, due to the fact your workshop was already closed. He was sitting in your office, hoping it would be quick, but it felt like hours for him. He couldn't stand your cocky attitude and your flirty comments toward him, he wasn't very fond of them.

"Has anyone told you that you have a gorgeous voice box?" You couldn't help yourself. You didn't think you could be so attracted to an omnic, but there you were, trying not to show that Ramattra was making you feel certain ways.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to get with your flirtatious comments, but they're not going to work on me." He crossed his arms together, looking around, trying to distract himself. He really didn't want to give in, especially with a human. He could see where this was going, but he tried to stop it.

You turned him around on the chair, making him look at you. "Oh really?" You chuckled again, but this time more softly. "Maybe you're scared because you've never been with a human?" He stood up quickly, clearly annoyed. That was the moment you actually realized how tall he was compared to you. "Are humans always this irritating and dirty minded!?" He asked with a serious tone. Hearing him speak was slowly driving you crazy, you didn't think you ever met an omnic with such a remarkable voice.

"They might be annoying when they're needy." You explained with a low voice, while your hand wandered to his ribs, giving them a light touches. "So that's how you want to play, huh?" You smirked again at his question, nodding slightly. "Want me to show you where the bedroom is?"

"There's no need to. Your office will be just fine." Ramattra answered, before grabbing you and almost throwing you on your desk. Before you could react, he grabbed you by the face and spoke again. "You started a game, you're not going to win, but I am no monster. If you want me to stop I will, but until then we're playing by my rules. Do you understand?" You nodded, but that didn't seem to satisfy him. "I said, do you understand?" He brought your face closer to his, causing you to yelp. "Yes, Ramattra, I understand."

If he could smirk, you know he would. You could tell that he was satisfied with how obedient you suddenly became.

Without wasting any more time, Ramattra started taking off your clothes, leaving you naked before him. His hand wandered around your body, causing you to shiver at the sudden contact between his cold metal hands and your soft and warm skin. Omnic was checking for the spots that would squeeze your legs together and let out sounds of pleasure.

Him giving you a light touch on your top surgery scars, caused you to let out a quiet whine. Ramattra let out a low laugh at your reaction and continued, going lower, giving your hips a squeeze, seeing how in response squeeze your legs together. "Oh, you like that?" He teased, the only response he got was you getting blush on your cheeks. It was a positive answer for him.

Without any more games, he pushed you, making you hit a wooden desk with your back and parted your legs. His eyes landing on your dripping pussy. "Keep them like that. Don't you dare to close them."

"Yes, Ramattra. I won't—" Your sentence was cut out by a moan, as soon as Ramattra's thumb was brushing against your sensitive clit. It was a simple action and you were already fighting not to close your legs. "Damn it, Ramattra. So I was wrong when I said you've never been with a human?" You let a broken chuckle, when his fingers went to your entrance.

"You already seem to have enough just by simple and almost meaningless touch. I wonder… I wonder what will happen…" And as he said that, two of his fingers entered you, making you shiver. "When I do this." He wasn't so intrigued by your reaction, so he started moving his fingers, stroking your sensitive walls. With them being long, he was brushing that soft stop inside you everytime. You couldn't help yourself from starting to get yourself off by playing with your clit, while letting out the sounds of pleasure. "Are humans always this desperate to cum?" He teased again. You didn't listen to him, even if you wanted you couldn't. You were in trance, high almost. Ramattra wasn't going to be this good and let you cum so easily.

The next thing you know that his fingers are no longer in you and he was holding your hands together. You looked at him with desperation in your eyes. "Please…" He didn't want to give in again. But you begged and it seemed you could do it until you would get what you wanted, it made him melt and he couldn't say no.

"It's so adorable that you're begging. I guess I have no other choice." You smiled at him, hearing that. But you weren't expecting what was about to happen. The next thing you saw was Ramattra getting an extra set of arms, that were huge compared to his normal arm. With his normal hands he grabbed his scepter and placed it against your chest. "I want you to grab it and not let go. I want you to stay in place when I will be, like humans like to say, fucking your brains out." You chuckled at that, not knowing he knew that kind of slang. Without a thought, you did what he told you to, he continued to do it too, keeping you in place like he said. Then you heard a strange sound, something was opening, then you saw something that shocked you.

Ramattra had a cock. You had no idea Omnics had any kind of genitalia in the first place. Or maybe he did it himself, who knew. Most likely, due to the fact how much detail it had. It was jet black like him, with purple elements on his shaft and a couple of wires under it. There was leaking with clear fluid, which must have been lube, because what else could it be.

The next thing you feel is him grab you by your lower parts of thighs with his huge hands, parting your legs further for him. "Are you ready for me?" He asked, you nodded. You thought he was going to demand you to use words, but it seemed that didn't want to waste any more time.

He slowly entered you, making you arch your back. As soon as he was fully inside, you let out a sigh mixed with a chuckle. "Damn… Who would've thought I would be fucked by an Omnic." Ramattra shaked his head and decided to ignore your comment. He started building a steady pace. "You're better than I thou—" At that very moment he hit you in the right spot, you started to lose focus on what was going on around you. You closed your eyes and focused on the pleasure.

"Stop talking so much." If he could roll his eyes, he would. "If it feels that good then stay quiet or I might stop."

"Please don't." You breathed out, getting closer and closer to the release. Your mind was completely clouded by bliss. "Please don't stop. Please!" His pace was getting faster. You could tell he was on the edge as well.

He let go of your thighs, leaning against the desk with his big hands, letting you wrap your legs around his ways and allowing Ramattra to get deeper inside of you, hitting the soft spot inside you everytime.

You felt overwhelmed and then finally, you let out a broken moan, finally hitting that sweet release. Ramattra reached it right after you, bending over you, letting out something like a low groan.

He pulled out and fixed his wires that were supposed to imitate hair and exited his nemesis mode. "I hope you enjoyed yourself, because I'm not planning on doing this again."

"Don't lie. I bet you enjoyed yourself as much as I did." You sat up and tried to stabilize your breathing. "When do you want to come back for a 'check up'?"

He couldn't a help chuckle, he grabbed your face, but this time in much more gentle way, getting a sound of approval from you. "And when do you have time?"

[wrongcaitlyn]

what r ur fave solangelo stories??? imma be honest, i need more popstar AUs. tyt has set my standards WAYY to high! i honestly think ur one of my favorite fanfic authors. your writing style in just *chef's kiss* MWAH

also i think i remember u saying ur aroace??

well, this is just a question (you dont have to answer if ur not comfortable) did nico and will have sex yet in tyt, because they've been together for like 5 yrs or smth but yea

ahsdhlgf i have so many!!!! i still need to check out the solangelo week fics bc i'm sure there are some absolutely incredible ones on there (for some reason i just haven't been feeling like reading solangelo lately, it's been a bit sporatic) however!! i still have PLENTY of recs - i know that i've made a post in the past with some of my favorite fics, and i also have public rec bookmarks on my ao3 if you want to check those out!!

but if you want more specifically fame/band/popstar au's (bc i completely agree, we NEED more of them. like pls make characters famous irl more often it's my absolute favorite trope) here are some of my favorites!!

paris by ethannku is an au where nico is a youtuber, so not singing, but it's formatted so so well and i'm absolutely in love with it!!! (also, i'm just genuinely obsessed with this idea)

Lo-Fi Heart Beats by alchemical_acrobat and Paint_splatt is a streamer au, and one of my favorites. honestly just any sort of fic where they have a fandom makes me soo happy and this one was so sweet!!

can i handle the seasons of my life? by buoyantsaturn has will as a burnt out child star and is now in college, so *technically* he's not a popstar (aside from his previous dcom songs) but!! it is still one of my favorite all time fics and has some aspects of the fame au!

he was seen on occasion (pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnights sea) by stargirltv IS!!!! one of the greatest popstar au's ever. like, nico's a bedroom pop artist, but i'd be so lying if i didn't say this partly inspired talk your talk (even tho ngl, i picture every single one of my favorite characters as popstars, it's my favorite passtime) i highly highly highly recommend!!!

and okay lesterlicious by apopcornkernel isn't a solangelo fic... nico and will actually don't even appear by lester and meg have a youtube channel and i fucking lvoe this fic so much like please please readlkjsfd

so i realize only one of those is a popstar au but we're just in a severe drought of them rip😭😭 but these all have fame aspects to them and i highly recommend them!!

as for the other part of the ask, yes i am aroace! and i tend to lean more towards the sex-repulsed side of the asexual spectrum (or rather, it's less discomfort and more just embarrassment to me, like, i just have to cringe whenever reading smut/attempting to write even anything impliedlkjsf) so don't worry about the questions, they don't make me that uncomfortable! to answer the question: yes, they probably have lmfao😭 i don't really think about it all that much, but i also don't hc either of them as ace *in this universe* (that is very important, i definitely hc them as ace in other universes) so it has happened by now - as to when/where/how that happened, i will leave that up to you bc i don't think i'll ever actually write it/imply that (i will simply cringe at my keyboard too hard)

thank you for the ask!