#i mean i probably would link the fic here on my Tumblr as well if i got to write it akdhkf

[aeyumicore]

please & thank you

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little/no plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 7.5k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, SLIGHT spoilers to the lore (with some of my own interpretations and theories), oral m!receiving, fingering f!receiving, face/throat fucking, finger sucking, kinda rough, size difference, cuffing/tied up (m!receiving), sylus kindaaaa/degrading mean but in a tasteful way, he’s also very soft for reader, sylus has a FILTHY mouth, orgasm denial (f! and m!receiving), mirror sex, improper use of Evol, use of Y/N, cute petnames hehe (little dove, little bird, sweetheart, doll, etc), slight predator and prey, choking (kinda breath play??? not really), some references to lore (main storyline + midnight stealth), kinda sub!reader, dom!sylus, THIS IS FILTHY YALL IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hi guyssss she is here <3 MY FIRST ever sylus fic, first of many me thinks bc i am so utterly infatuated w him im sorry zayne LOL

i did NOT end up making this connected to ‘midnight stealth’ OR ‘no defense zone’ (although some midnight stealth plot is referenced a tiny bit in the beginning). any resemblances to these two memories are purely coincidental, mostly similar because there’s use of cuffs/restraints in all three. this is purely a standalone filthy fic

this has veryyyy little plot, i decided to keep it that way so im sorry to those who wanted to see plot in this ;_; i didn’t want to burn out, which i likely would’ve because pivoting from what i had (5.6k words) to a more plot based fic would have taken me a few more days and probably double the words and i just couldn’t do that to myself. 

i appreciate you guys for supporting me and i really respect each and every opinion so i hope i didn’t let anyone down by not doing the plot version. there will be plenty of opportunities for that i promise <3

pls enjoy :) any comments or reblogs r greatly appreciated (and loved) by me <3 they help me keep motivated to keep writing and truly make my whole week.

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ .

You were playing with fire.

Actually, what you were doing was definitely more dangerous and infinitely more idiotic than playing with fire. 

It was downright deranged. 

It appeared the silver haired man beneath you agreed, his jaw ticking dangerously as his deep crimson eyes crinkled in warning, “Are you sure this is a game you want to play?” 

You knew the answer was definitely no. But the mere glimpse of the Onychinus leader beneath you, at your mercy, was enough to make you push through the thrilling fear coursing through your veins.

With Sylus’s chiseled body unwillingly sprawled out before you, you situated yourself in between his thighs. Though his words and expression were laced with a cautionary edge, his legs spread open for you. 

His wrists were bound with the two silver cuffs you’d purchased at a novelty store on girls day out with Tara, each hand simultaneously locked to the steel beams of your bed’s headboard. With his arms bound above his head, his button up shirt rode up to expose his pale and scarred skin and the defined outlines of the chiseled pelvic muscles that lead to his manhood.

It wasn’t a stretch to say you’d planned this, after all you did buy the cuffs with Sylus in mind. And you’d never forget what Luke and Kieran had told you, in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Boss is most vulnerable when he’s sleeping.” 

Except now you weren’t binding him for the purpose of incapacitating him to find that damned brooch he’d taunted you with. Now, when he’d dozed off after you’d forced him to marathon the Harry Potter series with you, you tied him up with only one goal in mind.

Well maybe two. To tease and to punish.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch the way Sylus’s naval rises and falls irregularly, a subtle sign of his boiling anticipation. His exposed pelvis is dusted in a faint path of hair, trailing to where his pants hang dangerously low on his hips, after you’d taken his belt off. 

Sylus watches you with a careful eye as your hands find his waistband, tugging his bottoms and his boxers down in one motion. He tuts disapprovingly, even as his body lifts every so slightly to assist you in undressing him, “I’ve already warned you once. I won’t warn you again.” 

And yet, there’s an undeniable amusement in his voice that lets you know it’s safe to keep going. Your eye contact never breaks as you tug his clothing all the way down, until they rest at his ankles. His hardening cock springs free as you do so, the thick mushroom head already leaking a shiny streak of precum. As it slaps against his abdomen, Sylus’s carmine irises darken, but he refuses to make any sounds. The screech of steel rattling against steel is loud in the tense air, the formidable man’s fists clenched so tightly his nails threaten to break his skin. 

You bend down slowly, torturously languid, until his masculine scent invades your senses. You shiver in pleasure, positively addicted to every part of him. Sylus’s stomach heaves as he curses you inwardly; you were the only devilish minx that could even fathom rendering him into this vulnerable state. The only person he’d ever allow to see him like this. 

“You’ve become quite bold, little bird. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

His cocky attitude makes you want to shiver, but you find the strength to retort back, “Perhaps you have.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, and a chance for you to lose your courage, you let your tongue run over the thick tip of his erection, collecting his arousal on your tongue. You make a show of savoring his taste, letting your eyes bat at him while you lick him clean. 

Sylus is hypnotized, crunching up to watch you. His wrists pull against the metal restraints, growing irritated with being held back. Of course, if he’d wanted to, he could snap the cuffs with a mere tick of his fingers, but he found it amusing to watch his mischievous little bird believe she had control. 

When you take his head fully into your lips, Sylus’s hips involuntarily buck up into the heaven that is your mouth. Though surprised, you do your best to accommodate the extra inches, tongue twirling around his leaking slit as your jaw unhinges to take in his fat girth. 

“Fuck.” 

Sylus’s dark eyebrows are scrunched as he fights the urge to destroy the cuffs to get to you, wanting nothing more than to sink his fingers into your hair and push you down until you couldn’t breathe. But he prided himself as a man of patience, even if he despised being tested. 

And you were absolutely testing him. Your puffy lips caressed his sensitive veins, tongue assaulting every flaming nerve of his massive length, delicate and soft fingers leaving no inch of him untouched. Yet you moved so languidly. Deliberately testing how far you could push him, testing his resolve. Not that he would ever beg, but he desperately wished you’d move faster, take him deeper. 

“My love,” he purrs, deceptively calm even as your filthy tongue lathered his most sensitive parts, “I implore you to release me. While I’m still feeling generous.” 

Doing your best to shut him up, you take him into the back of your throat, fingers shifting from the base of his manhood to his heavyset balls. You’re only half successful in your antics, as you do cut off Sylus’s demands, only to be replaced by an inexplicable string of curses. The daunting leader of the Onychinus, whose name evoked fear itself to most, unraveled at your whims. A man who had no weaknesses, save for one.

You.

With his head thrown back, hair tousled and matted with a thin layer of sweat, he began to pant heavily. His neck bobbed deeply to the rhythm of his gasps, hands pulling against the restraints you’d locked him into. The sound of metal clashing against metal is almost deafening, your head snapping up to his arms bound above his head. 

For a second you’d feared he’d snapped the steel cuffs, his biceps rippling and forearm veins bulging with the sheer strength of his arms. But fortunately for you, his wrists were still firmly bound, a red angry circle forming where the metal met the pale skin of his hands. 

“Do you really think – hah – this will end well for you, dove?” Sylus considers this your very last warning, crunching up once again to watch you, your mouth full of his cock, saliva dribbling down your chin as you try to accommodate his thickness. He swears under his breath at the sight of you, his woman, the only person he’d ever even consider letting his guard down around, pleasuring him so sweetly and enthusiastically. Even if you were so foolish that you thought you could get away with typing him up. 

You look up innocently at him, fluttering your eyelashes as you fuck him with your mouth. Though you let him hit the back of your throat every time, your rhythm is intentionally and torturously slow, edging him without making it obvious enough for punishment. And although each intentional motion elicits the most mind numbing grip from your gag reflex on his throbbing erection, he’s losing his mind from how much more he wants. How much more he needs. 

“Faster.”

You nearly choke as you giggle at his demands, releasing his cock with a resounding pop. Of course, even tied up, Sylus didn't use the word ‘please.’ The man of unthinkable power was absolutely used to getting what he wanted without even batting an eye. It was a habit that he rarely relented on, and when he did it was only for you. 

“What’s the magic word?”

Sylus glowered at you, jaw twitching dangerously as he did his best to hold himself back, “Watch it.” 

It was truly taking every ounce of willpower he had to not rip the cuffs off the steel beams of your bed, taking your headboard apart with it. All so he could have more.

“Sylus,” you pout, still using your hands to gingerly stroke him with a featherlike touch. Nothing intense enough to get him off. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to say ‘please’ when asking for something?” You give him a pointed squeeze, thumb stroking the underside of his swollen head. 

He curses, pelvis thrusting up into your fist to try and chase the pleasure you’re withholding from him, “Fuck, if you’re going to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one.”

“I just want to hear the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Please. See how easy that is?”

“Y/N, my heart,” Sylus purrs lowly, eyes glinting dangerously, “I won’t tolerate any more disobedience.”

“Well then you don’t get what you want.” As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d regret them. 

Before you can even blink, you find yourself pressed firmly into the mattress, your head hanging off the side, hair dangling freely. The air feels strangely brisk, and you can vaguely feel your nipples hardening. It’s then you realize you’re naked. But you hadn’t felt Sylus lay a single finger on you.

His Evol.

You’d become so accustomed to Sylus’s Evol that you no longer felt its slightly suffocating  invisible web when it touched you, unlike when you’d first met him in the N109 zone. The countless times he’d use his Evol to guide your lips to his, your hand into his larger ones, or to undress you, had actually made you quite fond of the touch of his Evol. 

Little did you know that Sylus had actually been practicing lightening up the intensity of it, for you. He’d always detested seeing the uncomfortable scrunch of your eyebrows, the hostile goosebumps that would raise where his Evol touched you. So he’d absolved himself to train the claws of his Evol to soften, instead becoming that of a gentle caress. Only for you, of course. For everyone else, they got the skin-shredding talons that parents warned about in cautionary tales to their children. 

Hanging upside down, the glint of the ceiling light against the silver cuffs hanging off your headboard catches your eye, snapping you from your thoughts. The metal loops were still completely intact, but unlocked. Of course you knew he’d use his Evol to escape eventually, but it still surprised you how he managed to do it so effortlessly. Graceful in everything he did. 

You try to sit up, but Sylus’s hand wraps itself softly around your throat and holds you back down. He tsks scornfully, a playful warning in the swirling glowing cerise of his eyes. His grip is gentle enough where you can still speak normally. Rough enough where you want more.

So you pout childishly, “It’s just like you to use your Evol for such cheap tricks.” 

From beneath his towering frame, you can just barely see him raise his perfectly arched eyebrow. Most of him is obstructed by his massive erection pressed at your nose, menacingly imposing before you. “Cheap? Doll, there’s nothing cheap about me. And nothing cheap about the things I’m going to do to you.”

You shiver involuntarily at his threats, your thighs clenching together in anticipation. Sylus’s words were always harsh, but when it came to you there was always such a profound sincerity and gentleness behind his actions, even when he was brutally devouring your body. So the danger edged into his words only served to excite you, fueling the dampness that had formed between your legs. 

And of course, his perfect cock dangling in front of your lips, still glistening with a sheen of his arousal and your saliva. Hanging so closely to your waiting tongue, but never touching. That definitely did not help the throbbing ache in between your thighs. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun, don’t you agree?”

Feeling daringly bold, you playfully curse him, “Screw y–” But before you can finish getting the words out, Sylus grips your jaw, shoving himself into your waiting mouth. The force he uses is enough to make your eyes roll back, the feeling of being full of him making you forget what you’d wanted to say to begin with. You’re careful to pull back your teeth as he finds his way to one of his favorite places, the back of your throat. 

“Let’s give that mouth something to do, other than run itself, hmm?”

You groan in response, letting the vibrations of your throat speak for you. Sylus grunts, removing his hand from your throat and weaving it into your hair like he’d wanted to earlier. His grip is strong, just hard enough that you feel an immense pleasure from the stinging pull. With a firm hand on your scalp, he fucks into your face, his meticulously groomed hair brushing against your nose at every thrust. 

His speed and vigor is relentless, not that you’d complain even if you could. The feeling of Sylus driving in and out of your throat, like you were a fleshlight, had your body vibrating with need, clit throbbing in ecstasy. How you could feel this good just sucking his cock was beyond you. Your unrestrained moans were an absolute orchestra to his ears, the vibrations running through every nerve ending in his erection, causing him to release a string of his own sounds 

“You’re so – hah – exquisite like this, dove. Choking on my cock instead of your words.”

You whine at him, so unbelievably turned on by the filthy way he speaks to you. His skin slaps against your wet mouth, and an obscene amount of drool mixed with precum drips off your cheeks and onto the carpeted floor beneath you. You loll your tongue out to try and catch his copious dribbles of precum, not wanting to waste any part of him. 

“I can see my cock in your throat, sweetheart,” he cooed, using a hand to brush against your throat, where his erection bulges against your neck each time he fucks into you. 

Tears streamed from your eyes as Sylus’s pace increased, gripping onto your hair for even more leverage against your beautiful face. 

“Crying already? Not feeling so bold anymore, my love?” 

You ignore his patronizing words, trying to focus instead on your own pleasure. With one hand still gripping the hard muscles of his bubbly rear, your other hand wanders to the quivering area between your thighs, fiddling with the bundle of nerves that was slick with your arousal. You desperately seek to relieve some of the tension building up in your gut, all from just Sylus’s cock in your mouth.

But before you can give yourself any inkling of pleasure, you feel a familiar force of energy pulling your hand away. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch yourself.”

You nearly sob at his words. You want to speak, plead with him to touch you, or at least let you touch yourself, pride be damned. But his unbelievable girth makes it impossible to do anything but devour him repeatedly.

The white haired man above you watches you carefully, swearing at how your tear soaked face makes his resolve to punish you crumble ever so slightly. Taking pity on you, he brings your hand to his, weaving his long fingers into yours. You hold his hand tightly, enjoying the way his much larger hand clasps into yours, fingers digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Good girl,” he coos in praise, voice tinged with a condescension that makes your skin crawl in excitement, “You don’t touch what’s mine, unless I say, hm?”

You look up at him with wide wet eyes, nodding obediently as he continues to ravage your face. He pressed your hand deeper into the mattress, his thrusts becoming so intense that you knew you’d have a hard time speaking tomorrow, your throat battered and bruised. 

From your position, you don’t see the glowing light that emanates from your joined fingers. But Sylus does, and he watches in a concealed wonder at the way you can so easily resonate with him now. You didn’t even need to try, a single touch was all it took. It was a testament to how much you’d grown to trust him. 

No, it was a testament to the deep love and respect you’d both come to hold for each other. You’d both definitely come a long way from when he’d captured, or when you let him capture, you at the N109 zone all that time ago. The thought of that threatens to make Sylus shiver as he continues to ram himself deep into your warm wet throat. He watched the way you took him so eagerly, hand gripping his for dear life, your other hand coming up to stroke his heavyset balls as they slapped against your face. The way your poor little throat bulged every time he thrusted into it, the bump so visible to his hungry crimson eyes.

Oh, how you ruined him. He’d fucking marry you.

Your jaw ached, having been open as widely as possible for far too long now, but you did your best to continue to take him. The feeling of him using your mouth was more than enough to keep you growing wetter, needing more. Your thighs squeezed together, as you rocked into nothing, wanting nothing more than to feel any friction between your legs.

Sylus watched as you pathetically tried to find pleasure in the empty air, nearly growling at how arousing the sight was. He was fueled with such an intense desire and love for you, nothing like he’d ever felt before. And that love and desire was enough for him to concede, if even just a little bit, for you.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling…charitable today, my dove,” he murmurs, releasing your hair and bending over your body. His erection never leaves your mouth, but he hovers so that your sight is filled with the view of his solid abdominal muscles. You cry out against his member when the familiar feel of his fingers finds your clit. You gasp out, choking on him, your hips jolting up eagerly to meet his torrid touch.

Sylus chuckles, a satisfied smirk making its way onto his unfairly gorgeous face, “Look at how eager you are…all this just from the taste of cock?”

Not able to respond, you hump up into his hand, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment of how desperate you were for him. Sylus only gives you a pointed thrust into your throat, making you gag deliciously around him again.

“Such an insatiable little bird,” he murmured, fingers expertly toying with you.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” his skilled ministrations never stopping, “I wish you could see how lovely you look with your mouth full.” 

Your eyes rolled back when he entered you, one finger at a time. He cursed at how tightly you gripped just one of his fingers. He had half a mind to just bury himself into your perfect cunt right then and there. And that’s just what he’d do. He was never used to not indulging in what he wanted, why stop now?

You felt the familiar shift in energy, a gentle hold on your body, until you found yourself laying on the middle of your bed, Sylus situated between your knees, fingers still toying with you. Your neck screaming in relief at the plush surface, mind reeling from the sudden shift. 

The white haired man bends to hover over you, free hand caressing your jaw, his frighteningly beautiful face before yours, “Hello, my love.”

Your voice is hoarse, sounding unfamiliar, “Hi.” It’s nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

Sylus chuckles, his chest rumbling warmly at your adorably vulnerable state, “How’s your throat?”

You glare at him, trying to steady your raspy voice, “Don’t patronize me.”

He smirks, not the least bit apologetic, but says, “Forgive me, love.” He doesn’t give you a chance to sass him further, instead bringing your chin up to his. His lips slot onto yours, deceptively slow at first and quickly progressing to a vigor that matched the way he’d rammed himself into your throat. 

The bruising intensity of the kiss made your mind muddle, your hands coming up to grasp his neck to ground you. You gasped at the feeling of his heartbeat pounding so forcefully in his neck. The familiar feeling of an earth shattering orgasm edges into your numbed mind, every heightened sense filled with Sylus and only Sylus.

You finally break away, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him scissoring in and out of you, enough to have you on the brink of climaxing, “Sy-Sylus, I’m–”

Sylus reads you like the back of his hand, withdrawing his fingers and roughly grabbing your face to look up at him. You sob at the loss of friction, looking up at him with teary questioning eyes. 

The ceiling lights illuminate behind Sylus, forming a halo like ring atop his head. He was so hauntingly and terrifyingly beautiful. Not unlike that of a fallen angel, whose sole purpose was to ruin you. 

And just as you’re admiring him, Sylus looks down at you. Unbeknownst to you, he also considers you to be his very own angel sent from the heavens. Bringing light and salvation to the shadowed crevices of his soul.

But even then, he can’t help but tease you, the urge to see you ruined at his hand. An angel with tattered wings, so utterly spent with lust. “You don’t cum until I say, hm?” As if to punctuate his point, he puts his fingers, wet with your slick, in between your parted lips. The taste of you is strong on him, enough to distract you from Sylus, who’s lining up his more massive than ever erection with your weeping slit. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Suck. I know you can do better than that.”  

He presses his fingers harder onto your tongue, relishing in how warm you feel around him. At your adorable pouty glare, he pushes his leaking tip into you.

You yelp in surprise, biting down on his fingers in your mouth. Sylus hisses, but the pain only further arouses him, making him shove into you suddenly. Your hands come up to grasp his forearm, the veins bulging under your touch. 

The feeling of him entering you is so overwhelming, the only thing grounding you to the present was the way his fingers felt and tasted against your tongue. And so you devoured him in earnest, much to his satisfaction. 

It’s not long before he bottoms out, his head kisses your cervix, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, sparks of hot white pleasure clouding your vision. 

Sylus removes his fingers from your mouth, bringing his thumb to his own lips and brushing it across his parted mouth, his other fingers outstretched as he licks across his thick thumb. You whimper at the sight, so unbelievably seductive he has to be doing it on purpose. 

“You always taste divine.” His movements have all but halted completely, his thick girth just sitting inside of you, brushing against your womb. And even though the stretch is enough to practically compress your lungs, you want more. 

“D-Don’t tease Sylus,” you whine pathetically, “Fuck me.” 

The smile on his face is as cocky as ever, the corner of his lips curving up, as sharp as his edged jaw. 

“So bold. Do you really think you’re in any position to make demands?”

He gives you just one pointed thrust, cockhead nestling so deliciously into your sweetest spots, but stopping just at that. You cry out, fingers gripping the comforter so tightly your knuckles turn white. 

“If I recall correctly…someone once told me something about saying…what was it? ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’?”

He grins down at you, bending forward so that he hovers right over your face. He would never let you know but the pouty grimace on your lust glowing face was nearly enough to have him caving into your every whim, punishment forgotten in the wind. 

“Hm? So what do we say, sweetheart?”

With his cock situated so perfectly in you, it’s impossible for you to do anything but follow his every command, no matter how much it bruises your ego.

“P-Please?”

His smirk deepens, fingers cupping your chin up to face him, “You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You groan as he shifts, giving you just the tiniest bit of friction where it mattered. You do your best to find the confidence, “Please Sylus.”

There’s the faintest flicker of darkness in his eyes, a twitch of unraveling at the way you effortlessly purr his name. If you had any idea the things you did to him, the mighty and fearless leader of the Onychinus, it would be his absolute undoing. 

“Please what, my dove? Come on, use that beautiful voice of yours.”

Before you can let out your snarky response, his fingers travel to your neck, stroking your sensitive pulse gently before pressing down to compress your airway. 

“Or is this throat only good for taking my cock?”

You whine at his words, patience absolutely gone. You wrap your legs around his waist and force him closer. A pathetic attempt to get him to thrust into you. Your hands come up to the back of his neck, and your tear glistening eyes search his pleadingly. He’s taken aback by the sudden shift, a small gasp escaping his parted lips. In his surprise, he lets himself be guided to you, his forehead falling to lay atop yours, his breath fanning against your own. 

“Please Sylus, please fuck me. I’m sorry, I’ll be a good girl. Please.”

The curse that leaves Sylus’s voice is barely perceptible as he drinks you in. Your cheeks were still streaked with tears, your eyes wide and glassy. Your lips were puffy from his bruising kisses, and cheeks heated with desire. There was absolutely nothing in the universe that could match how utterly gorgeous you were. His gorgeous woman. His to ruin. 

His voice low with longing and hunger, “Fuck, okay love. I’ll give you what you want.”

He manipulates the energy around you, raising your arm above your hand. His slender fingers dance up your exposed skin, until they find your fingers. His nails graze your inflamed skin, fingers toying with yours. For a brief moment, he enjoys how much smaller your hand feels in his. His delicate little bird.

“Hold on tight.”

Your fingers grip his, your nails digging in when he finally pulls his cock out, leaving only his head still snuggly inside. Without giving you a second to breathe, he’s plummeting himself back into your sopping cunt. Your combined slick ensures there’s zero resistance, only the sounds of wet slaps filling the space between you. 

Sylus’s forehead still rests against yours, his free arm bent above your head, helping support him as he fucks you with a painfully delicious intensity. Your cunt milks him perfectly, the warmth far too inviting and the tightness much too constricting. His fingers grip yours forcefully, trying to offset the way your pussy tries to suck the living soul out of him. 

“Sy-Sylus,” you cry out, nails digging crescents into his skin, your other hand coming up to rake red scratches into his back, “Slow – ngh – slow down!” Your brain is a jumbled mess, confused at the words your tongue lets out when your body only wants more.

Sylus’s chuckle is low and almost sinister, his pace never relenting, “That’s funny. I recall you saying you’d be a good girl.” He shifts his weight to his knees, moving his palm to your naval, pressing down. You squeal at the feeling of his palm pressing into your stomach, your sensitive walls being compressed into his cock spearing in and out of you. 

“And good girls take what they’re given, hm?”  

Moans and whimpers are the only thing you’re capable of producing, his pace brutal, like he was trying to find his way into your throat from your cunt. You don’t notice his hand traveling further south until his thumb presses into your swollen clit, flicking hard. You screech, your back arching off the bed, giving him further access to your dripping cunt. 

“Answer me when I speak to you, sweetheart.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m a good girl, I can take it!” you all but screamed, spine so arched you felt like you were levitating.

The erotic cries that leave your lips make it difficult for Sylus to think straight, so he doesn’t. He fucks you with a ferocity that was nothing short of animalistic, the only thing he can think of is how many different ways he can and will make you cum. 

He presses your joined palms deeper into the mattress, eyes searching yours desperately. For what, you were unsure. But as his scarlet irises bore into yours, you felt an overwhelming sense of emotion catch in your throat.

Propping yourself slightly on your elbows, you pressed your forehead to Sylus’s, his sweat dampened bangs fluttering against your eyelashes.You reach up to cup the back of his head, pulling him towards you. His right hand never leaves your clit, his left staying tightly clasped with yours.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as he claims you fully, thrusts moving in tandem with his tongue. It’s a torrid clash of tongue and teeth, enough passion to have the Aether core in your heart throbbing dangerously erratically. 

“Syluuus,” you slur as you pull away to breathe, “I-I’m..I’m gon–” You can’t get the words out, the tip of his cock against your cervix and fingers on your clit bringing you into another dimension, one filled with him. The scent, the sound, the feel, the sight of him. 

“I know. Getting so goddamn tight,” he grits out, jaw locking as he tries to steady himself against your vice grip. Sylus was a man of boundless stamina and restraint, but when it came to you… When it came to the absolute heaven that was your body, he could hold nothing back. 

Just as you neared your orgasm, Sylus stops again. You find your body being moved again, but this time Sylus’s hands are lifting you, and not his Evol. His strong arms lift you so that you’re sitting on his lap, your back pressed against his muscled chest, and his back leaned up against the bed.

He does however use his Evol to drag over the gold arched full-length mirror you had propped up against the corner of your bedroom, so that it sits right in front of the bed. Your vision is filled with the gleaming reflection of you, naked on Sylus’s lap, his arrogant smirk right by the top of your head. His muscular arms are draped over your thighs, spreading open your glistening folds, fully exposing you before the mirror. 

“Sylus s-stop. It’s embarrassing,” you whine, averting your gaze at the lewd sight, and the even filthier sounds of his fingers against your copious slick. But he grips your jaw firmly, turning you back to the mirror. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear, “Look.” 

You puff your cheeks, fighting against his fingers.

“Look, love. Or you don’t get to cum,” he purrs in your ear.

You mutter sulkily, knowing full well his threats are anything but empty, “You’re evil.” 

But you obey diligently, letting his fingers guide your face forward. The sight before you is so unbelievably filthy, Sylus’s long fingers digging into your thighs to keep them spread open, his other fingers playing with your swollen lips. Even on his lap, he was a head taller than you, His soft white hair is matted with sweat, his cheeks dusted a peachy red with how vigorously he’d just been fucking you.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, Sylus lifts you from underneath your thighs, and spears you onto his cock. You cry out at the feeling of being stretched open again, Sylus’s own ecstasy fueled grunts in your ear.

With you atop him, his cock reaches so unbelievably deep inside you that you feel the tears returning. Your eyes screw shut as his tip repeatedly brushes against your cervix, the familiar pain quickly dulling into an intense pleasure. 

Suddenly you feel Sylus’s teeth at the crook of your neck, and arm coming across your chest to enclose over your entire throat. His sharp canines dig into the area where your neck meets your shoulder, biting just hard enough to make your eyes fly open to face his in the mirror. His eyebrows are quirked at you, amusement evident in his sharp ruby eyes.

He doesn’t speak, instead keeping his mouth attached to your pulse point. But the dark sultry heat swirling in his eyes that you can see reflected in the mirror is a clear and wordless command. 

Watch.

And who were you to disobey him, when his body brought this much pleasure to your own. 

So with your eyes locked on his in the mirror, Sylus begins to bounce you in earnest on his lap. And while you moan and whimper as he springs you so effortlessly on his cock, like you weighed nothing more than a mere toy, his own noises are muffled by his teeth that are sunk into your fluttering neck. 

His eyes never leave yours in the mirror, darkened underneath his eyebrows, glowing with red hot lust. The way he watches you is so intimately primal, like a predator toying with its prey before the kill. 

With his hungry gaze locking yours in place and the lewd wet sounds of slick skin pounding against one another, you feel the alarmingly rapid tightening of your abdomen that signals your orgasm. Sylus feels it too, your walls tightening so intensely that the outline of his veins might imprint into you. Your grip coaxes his own cock toward release, his jaw tightening as to keep himself in check. 

He releases your bruised skin, admiring how breathtaking you look with his marks on you. His hand leaves your clit to rest on your tummy, stroking the skin there. You can feel him use his Evol to keep you in place, only the raw strength of his thighs and abs keeping you in steady motion on his length. 

“Look,” he croons in your ear, teeth grazing against your sensitive earlobes, “Can you see where I am, dove? I’m allll the way here ” His husky voice drawls, hand on your abdomen pressing down. You can definitely see the distinct outline of something large thrusting in and out of you. Your eyes widen at the mirror, mesmerized at how your bodies connect, almost resonating on their own. Sylus’s eyes are also glued to the way the base of his cock, shiny with a ring of arousal, forces your tiny fluttering cunt to take him in all his glory.  

“Tell me how it feels, hm? Tell me how I make you feel.” When you don’t respond, too lost in the sight in the mirror, his fingers come back down to squeeze your clit,

“Sylus! – ngh – feels ssoo so good,” you simper, panting through the hold he still has on your throat, the pressure quickly becoming far too addicting, “I-I…”

“Hah,” he groans into your ear, “You what baby? Tell me.”

“M’gunna cuuum,” you wail as his angle shifts just slightly, cock driving into your g spot. Sylus knows just how to play with you, his fingers sending you to heaven and back repeatedly. He was so thick that you felt like he'd split you in two, your cunt and thighs being stretched to their limits against the sloppy friction.

“Hmmm, is my beautiful girl going to make a mess on me? Does she deserve to?”

The mere thought that he might deny your climax again has you sobbing, tears of anguished ecstasy rolling down your face as his pace picks up even further.

“P-Pleaaase – unghh – please let me. I’m a g-good girl, I’ll be so – hnngh – good, I promise.”

Sylus had no intention of denying you again, but now he physically couldn’t. Because now, watching the fat tears roll down your cheek and hearing your beautiful pleas, he too could feel himself pulse with the ache to fill you up. As he watched your breathtaking form in the mirror, he cursed the Gods for sending the only thing that could ruin him. 

You.

And yet, being ruined by you felt so damn good.

“Good for who, my love?”

Your vision has become clouded by your tears and the black spots that blot your eyesight. But the possessive purr in Sylus’s voice reaches you, through all the blinding pleasure, and makes butterflies flutter in your chest.

Your hands come up behind you to grasp behind his neck, and you strain yourself so that you turn just slightly to face him. For a second Sylus looks taken aback, but he quickly composes himself, the confident smile returning to his lips. 

“Nggghh – for you, Sylus.” The sincerity of your shaking voice wipes the cocky smirk off his face, his thrusts faltering ever so slightly. For a brief second, Sylus can’t feel anything. He can’t feel the way your cunt, on the precipice of release, squeezes so forcefully that it threatens to break him in half, the way your soaking thighs ripple against his lap as he pounds into you, the way your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head.

Fate had played a cruel trick on the two of you. Two tragically entwined Aether cores. Two birds of a feather, trapped in the cage destiny had built. 

But now, there is only you and him. Fate and destiny be damned. 

“I’m yours Sylus. Always yours.”

Your words, delicate and simpering, pull him back to reality. All the sensations he’d briefly been numbed to came crashing back. The torturously delicious way you felt around him, atop him, and against him swarmed back all at once. And to top it all off, the sight of your fluttery wide wet eyes, hazed over with a fog of lust, staring at him with such wonder and adoration. Your eyes alone were practically making love to him.

It made him absolutely feral.

You squeal, thighs doing their best to grip against Sylus’s lap as he bounces you with an unprecedented vigor, his hand holding your throat to keep you somewhat steady. You watch his muscles bulge, his much larger frame very much on display behind you. Powerful and imposing – a true god-like glory. 

“That’s fucking right, you’re mine,” he hisses in your ear, jaws clenched to hold back the moans your pussy threaten to pull from his body. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Would my slutty girl like that?"

“Y-Yes!” you squeal, so close to coming undone, “Pleeease Sylus!  I-I’m s’close, I’ll do anything please!” You were quickly losing your voice amidst all the screaming and vigorous activities.

You can see Sylus devilish smile, releasing your throat to tilt your chin towards him.

“Anything? You’re making a deal with the devil, little dove.”

With your face so dangerously close to his, he can’t resist. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing onto yours, locked in the sweltering passion of your bodies. The feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth is just enough to send you headfirst into the orgasm you’d been on the brink of for so long.

And because of that, your body couldn’t hold back the gush of excitement that squirted from where Sylus was connected to you. It’s so messy you can’t help the way your cheeks burn in embarrassment, even amidst the short circuiting of your pleasure-numbed brain. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Sylus bites out, the tautening of your orgasm stricken cunt nearly squeezing him into unconsciousness. He fucks you through your blissed out state, and it isn’t long before he follows your lead. 

Like everything Sylus does, the way he cums is frighteningly powerful. Your body involuntarily shivers at how hot he is, but more so just how much there is. You can both clearly see the thick milky white seed seeping down Sylus’s cock, even as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are slower now, but more intentional. Conveying every ounce of passion into the way he rocks into you. Overstimulation quickly grips you, and you weakly tap at his thighs.

“Sylus, no-no more. S’too much.”

“M’not done,” he groans into your ear as he continues to thrust into you, and it’s then you feel his cock still shooting ropes of his hot spend inside you. He does, however, release your clit, shoving his fingers in your mouth, knowing it'll give you something to ground yourself amidst the sensitivity while he rides out the waves of his climax. 

You gladly accept his fingers, grasping his forearm and sucking like his arm was a dessert. The taste of your mixed slick helps distract you from the intense aftershocks that wrack your body. It’s all enough to have Sylus spurting out everything he has, drained completely empty, milked utterly dry. 

When you feel him finally still, you crack your eyes open, almost scared to see the aftermath. 

The waning sun bounced beams of golden sunlight off your sweat, tears, and cum slicked bodies. Your own body was also littered in pretty little bruises, in the shape of Sylus’s teeth and fingers. Bruises in places you hadn’t even felt Sylus sink his teeth into. They quite literally looked like swirls of paint against a blank canvas. 

Your hair was a mess, and your tear stained face was no better. The area between your thighs was red and puffy, leaking an obscene amount of white cream, all the while still stuffed to the brim with Sylus’s softening member. Even half hard, he stretched you absolutely full. 

On the other hand, the man in question looked absolutely ethereal as he loomed above you in the mirror. His hair sat lusciously soft, gently blowing with the breeze entering through the cracked window. His muscles still flexed gently as they recovered from the vigorous activities, strong chest rising and falling rhythmically with his steadying heartbeat. 

And finally his eyes that watch you back so carefully, the carmine orbs half lidded with satisfied bliss. His lips stretch into that signature Sylus smirk when he catches you staring, nothing short of heart stoppingly arrogant.

He’s so unbelievably handsome, your cunt quivering again just at the sight of him. Wincing at the feeling of his cock inside you stirring back to life at your involuntary throbbing, you panic and tap furiously on his thigh. 

“Sylus, put me down.” 

Sylus chuckles, mischief coloring his scarlet eyes, “What, no ‘please’?”

You whine, not able to withstand the feeling of him stirring back to life in your absolutely spent core. Yet you can feel yourself fluttering in anticipation. And you know he can feel it too. 

You silently curse your traitorous body.

“Please.”

He laughs warmly and obliges. His strong hands grip the underside of your thighs, lifting you off of him. You cry out at the feeling, your cunt clenching at nothing, seeking him once more. Sylus inhales sharply, craving your tight warmth again. But he holds you gently against his chest, shifting so that his erection rests between his abdomen and your thigh, with you sitting sideways on his lap. 

You nuzzle your head into his chest, and Sylus’s lips come down to the top of your head, breathing in your scent and ghosting kisses into your hair. Your hands reach up to weave into his silver tresses, playing with his soft locks and delicately massaging his scalp. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, voice muffled against his skin.

When Sylus doesn’t respond, you pull away from him and look up at him expectantly. He appears to be lost in the feeling of your fingers. 

“You never said please, you could at least say thank you,” you tease, poking his soft cheek with your finger. 

Sylus looks down at you, amused danger flickering in the deep orbs of crimson. His hand leaves your thigh, slowly and tortuously crawling up your skin until he cups your face. You shiver, suddenly feel like you’re staring into the face of danger. 

“Hmm, isn’t it customary to say thank you after eating?” 

You crinkle your brows in confusion at his cryptic words, waiting for him to elaborate further. Sylus’s smug grin widens, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, basking in the excited fear brimming in your bleary eyes. 

“I’ve yet to finish my meal, little dove.” 

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[mangoshorthand]

Five Hargreeves Meagalist

I've realised I need to rejig my pinned post, so here we are. Hello, I write aged-up Five Hargreeves smut. Sometimes also not smut. But mostly smut. This is a compendium of my work.

Request status: Closed

One + Twoshots

Not Smut (G-M rated)

Tickle War | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader (Fluff)- Words: 1.5k

Dickhead Sugar Daddy | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader (Angst/Fluff)- Words 2.8k

Two Old Men | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader (Fluff)- Words 3.3k

No Blinking! | Five Hargreeves & 3 y/o daughter (Fluff) Words: 3k

Twelve Feet Away From the Mistletoe Part 1, Part 2 | Five Hargreeves / F Reader (Fluff, angst) Total words: 5.8k

Senseless | Five Hargreeves/ GN Reader 1.3k words, Rated T/M (Angst + steamy)

Strings Attached | Five Hargreeves / F Reader (Steamy angst)- Words: 4.8k

Smut (E rated/18+)

NSFW Alphabet | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader - Words: 2.4k

Two Items of Business | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader/ FReader- Words: 2.1k (kind of a crackfic. Not my best.)

Goddamn Darling | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 2.1k

If Tonight Were our Last | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 2.4k (mild smut, probably between M+E ratings)

Boy Wonder | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 2.7k

Lucky Fucking Pillow | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 3k

In Your Hands | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader - Words: 3.1k

The Birthday Boy | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words: 3.8k

Your Desperate Man | Five Hargreeves/ GN Reader- Words 2.8k

Venus and Cupid | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words 4k (inc. fluff, romance, hurt/comfort)

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader- Words 2.8k

The Pandas and the Conservationist Part 1, Part 2 | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader - Words 11.8k.

My Kind of Deli | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader - Words 8k.

Series + Multichapter fics (best read on AO3)

Hard Feelings (E rated/18+) : 6 parts

You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. What starts as a casual relationship soon comes to mean everything to him, but what can Five bring to a relationship? After 45 years alone, (or almost alone), how do you rebuild your understanding of partnership? Five has to listen, learn and face the future as well as his past. READ ON AO3 READ ON TUMBLR

The Neurosis of Five Hargreeves (M/E rated): 2 Parts

Covering Five's readjustment to society post season 3. This series uses prose, monologues, transcripts, and case notes to explore Five's mental health demons, delusions, and recovery from decades of apocalypse trauma.

Not canon compliant. In this household, season 4 never happened.

READ HERE

The Moth and The Spider (E Rated): Please heed tags.

Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the fear, or maybe some sick, twisted part of him was titillated. Even looking back, he never knew. In the dark of nights years in the future, he couldn’t help linking how it turned out to this one mistake. Perhaps if he’d fought her just a little longer, it might never have turned into what it did- perhaps it would never have gone beyond that first night. In fact, it seemed likely: that’s how he knew it was all his fault really.

The Handler knows Five will be a difficult agent to control, but she also knows how to exploit his weaknesses.

READ HERE

Headcanons

Usually based on Tumblr asks:

SFW headcanons because I am capable of them y'know

Cooking

'Not like other girls' girls

Five hates himself

Five as the father of a son

S4 speculation

My dreams for Five in S4 (boy, was I disappointed)

Why Five's favourite word is "shit!"

What would Five look for in a partner?

Would Five be ok with not having kids?

A guide to flirting with Five

Five and Wordle

What did Five do in the apocalypse? (mention of masturbation- not graphic)

Five's enjoyment of murder

S/O stealing Five's jackets.

NSFW headcanons ah, safely back in my lane

NSFW alphabet

Five's relationship with the Handler (triggering content)

Five with a menstruating S/O (NSFW only because references sex)

Five + submissive pillow princess

Hargreeves brothers sharing sex tips

Five and flirtatious jokes (mild)

Mannequin banging: part 1 , part 2

Apocalypse sadwanks

Five eats pussy like a madman

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 1) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

A Place Called Home by @agustdakasuga

Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

Accidental Friends by Erakun06

Meet Bangtan, international superstars, the pride of South Korea, the love and hope in the dark of many lives, the role model and celebrity crush of so many people, and a group of people you often stumble across in your day to day life. You become acquaintances, slowly become friends, and- that's it. You are in a platonic friendship with Bangtan. Let me say it again. clears throat PLATONIC. Or One day, you meet a member of Bangtan, the next day, another, and another, and another, and one day, they become a group of people you often stumble across in your life. They become your acquaintances. Then your friends. Then your source of comfort, just like they are the source of comfort of millions of people in the world. What you didn't expect is that you become the same to them. It's inevitable. You are friends.

🗯️ a theme that I don't find much of, and this one was excecuted quite neatly I'd say

Ace For Hire by tokki-maknae

Who is Ace? Besides being the deadliest hitman on the market in the underground, whose really under the hood? The answers simple, well for you at least, because you are Ace. When you're not busy blurring yourself into the background noises of school, you were making a killing in the underground, both literally and figuratively. For years now Ace has become an infamous name among the other gangs and holds the reputation of being lethal and untouchable. But that all changes after a slip up that causes you to attract the unwanted attention of one persistent seven member gang. A gang that's been dying to know, who is Ace?

🗯️ badassss

At Your Service by @untaemedqueen

In which Yn is looking for an escort to accompany her to her nightmare ex and ex best friend's wedding, only to ended up falling in love with him.

Baby (you complete us) by @purpleyoonn

Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches. Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Back Home by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

Secretly, he was selfishly hoping that you didn’t age well. Dealing with a small crush was easy enough when he was young and knew next to nothing about girls, when you were just a cute albeit slightly weird girl he had a soft spot for. But he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if his feelings came back with a vengeance while you were living together. God, he would probably lock himself with Jungkook until you went away. OR The one where, after living abroad for years, you move back to Korea and your old high school friend Namjoon offers you his place to stay while you get settled, casually forgetting to mention that: a) he still had a massive crush on you. b) he lived with six other guys.

🗯️ crack fic! my fave category and this one makes me giggle in both funny way and butterfly-in-my-stomach kinda way

Beauty of Love by @imnotlauriane

When you cross eyes with your soulmate, you get flashes of memories that have yet to happen. You can't see the same memory as the other and it can be either good or bad. It's not always terrible, but a thing is for sure. No matter what you do, it will happen. But are things always what they seem to be?

Between The Bloodshed series by @agustdakasuga

🗯️ this series... I just love. plot is super neat, relationship doesn't feel forced, etc etc

❶ Between The Bloodshed

Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that you would have to leave your life behind and build a new one.

❷ Everything Between Us

They left you hanging, they broke your heart. You didn’t get your happily ever after. But now they’re back and they’re searching for you to make things right. Could you look past the betrayal to take them back into your life and back into your heart?

Beyond The Stage by Alysheart

Alexis was going through the days simply. She was a college student in Florida, working towards her degree. When she scored tickets to the BTS concert in Korea, she didn't hesitate. She never expected to be soulmates with the seven idols.

Bound by Blood by PurpleQueenie

In a world where vampires and humans have to co-exist, where the line between tolerance and animosity blurs, how can you ever expect to get your happily ever after when your soulmates hate your very existence?

🗯️ love all the details, the slow burn, gosh just so good

Boyfriend For Hire by @remedyx

Unsatisfied with your life was an understatement. Being under the thumb of your father can have that effect. He wanted someone capable of running the company, but you wanted to pursue your passion. Countless unwanted blind dates and the threat of losing your freedom drives you to seek help from a group of individuals you'd least expected.

Breakthrough by Alphathyx

"My dreams haunt me like past memories that never existed" The Memory Dive, an invention that allows the user to dive into anyone's memories just from the collection of their DNA. Made by Professor Kim Seokjin, he created this device for the worlds secret service to solve mysteries that the ordinary field agents are unable to. With seven agents, ranging from ex military, to a university professor, college student and even a criminal, only these seven are able to use this machine to extract memories of others. They are also the only people that know how to escape it. Discover through their eyes of uncovering the darkest truths of the world, through the minds of victims.

🗯️ this one's super neat plot with complicated and technical world, just so good

Bright Colors and Loud Soulmates by Mostmouse

You resented soulmates, the whole damn concept. It just wasn't your thing, and you couldn't help but feel jealous of those who were born without soulmates, who could see the world as it was intended to be from birth. When you run into your soulmate, you're determined to stay in your own sphere of the world. Focusing on you. But, because nothing is simple in your life, it turns out he's one of seven - better yet, your seven soulmates are the globally famous band BTS. Because why wouldn't they be? OR you learn how to let your soulmates past your carefully crafted walls, and they’re more than happy to show you what a loving and supportive relationship should look like.

🗯️ a funny and cute one! (with extra h0rny characters lol)

BTS Office CEO AU by @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue

You work for seven CEOs who have called you into their office due to a complaint

Can't Wait To See You Again by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

The one where Jungkook develops a huge crush on a Youtuber he found after falling into the rabbit hole of his recommended videos. Unbeknownst to him, you were also recommended to his hyungs. Unbeknownst to you, all across the world seven idols were slowly falling in love with you.

🗯️ I just love the concept of the boys being fanboys :3

Choco Bun by @nunchiimagines

When you moved to Korea after finishing college to continue pursuing latte art and baking, the last thing you were expecting was to open up your very own coffee shop under BTS Corp, Korea’s biggest entertainment service company for idols, models, singers, and more. Thanks to your hard work, creativity, and approachable personality you managed to become friendly with some pretty big named individuals as well as up and coming talent. As exciting and fun as it was for you, you slowly began to realize how much your 7 bosses weren’t particularly fond of this, acts of jealousy, pettiness, and aggression poking through in the most unsuspecting of ways. But what could 7 big named dragons want with a little foreign bunny?

Combined Beings by @numinousher

You are bullied on a constant because korea’s beauty standards do not fit girls on the heavier side. the bullying gets worse once a ceo is attracted to you and he mentioned you to the other 6.

🗯️ minus the bullying elements, this story is like a comforting sweet cloud

Comfort by http-lostforever

Hybrids have been introduced into society for a handful of years now, the fighting for their rights is still happening but doesn't look promising. But when one girl finds a hybrid in danger she jumps at the chance to help, yet what she didn't know was how upside down her life was about to become. But a word of advice, not everything is as it seems.

Could We Be Together Someday? series by BTS_Mommy / @babyboy-bangtan

🗯️ mann Idk what to write lol. this is another one that I've re-read thousand times, bcs some of the boys started as fanboys then became clingy friends. also yn's so supportive I just lovee.

❶ By Chance

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS's radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

❷ The Moments in Between

As you become close friends with BTS, you begin to realize that the feelings you have for them are slowly turning into something you're not ready to deal with. Unbeknownst to you, the same is happening to them.

Crave by sweetinsanityy

The boys don't do well with being controlled, but for their group, they'll bite their tongue and put on a smile for management. Yet when you, a new little rookie, stumble upon them, they're like a pack of hungry wolves. Or, the boys are all Doms and they want you to be their perfect little sub.

Cursed Fate by PurpleQueenie

The universe has designed soulmates- someone that completes you. But what happens when you don't have one but seven? And all you want to do is run in the opposite direction when you see them...

🗯️ queenie's stories are just so good, you should check them all out! this one also has such great details and writing.

Deep Down by sleepingbearandbunny

Jae, unlike everyone else, has nothing against the hybrid species. She likes being alone, where she is safe from ridicule and her controlling father. When a group of hybrids save her from some trouble, fate brings them together once more.

🗯️ a harsh and complecated world this one, so they went through a lot together and I love that!

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[praetorqueenreyna]

I love reading about u talk about acotar, really intrigues me enough to consider reading the books, I'm also very interested in any and all fandom gossip, so please please please tell me what is the current situation? What is elaingate in reference to? 👀👀👀

WELL FIRSTABLE if you read the books, stop after the first one 😂 and THANK YOU FOR ASKING I will relay the tale of some of the most low-stakes fandom drama to ever exist that I accidentally started WHOOPSIE

On July 24, 2024, the blog for Elain Archeron Week posted the rules for the event. There were 4 rules, one of which was that they wouldn't allow ships with "known abusers" and listed Tamlin and Beron as examples (I assume you know who Tamlin is lmao, Beron is a kind of generic Mean Dad character). ACOTAR fandom is known for being puritanical and religiously devoted to canon, but this is a new development. Event week mods have ignored/not reblogged content they don't like that was submitted for their week, but this is the first one I've seen that outright BANNED anything.

There was already a little kickback that mostly has to do with the two competing ships for Elain, elriel and elucien. They both think the other is the DEVIL even though both ships are equally boring. Apparently, the Elain Week is run by elriels, and eluciens were already huffy about the wording of an ask wondering if elucien would be allowed in the event. This part of the story is boring and doesn't have anything to do with me, the star of the show, so I will move on.

Anyway! A few fandom friends sent me links and screenshots of all of this because it's objectively funny. I made a post talking about how funny it was, which brought attention to it on this side of the fandom. My mutuals (the most hilarious people on the planet) asked what was going on, and immediately joined in on the fun. Memes were created at an astronomical rate. Art, fic, and poems for every possible ship of those three characters were made. Amazingly enough, Tamlin/Beron has had a huge surge of content, as the two men named and specifically banned from the week. I started tagging the posts #elaingate, and apparently it caught on enough that the tag now has over 100 posts in it.

To clarify!! The issue has never been about the ships themselves. There are VERY few Tamlin/Elain shippers on tumblr, which I know because I have run multiple demographic surveys and crunched the numbers. And absolutely NOBODY was making Beron/Elain. You have to understand how bland this fandom is. They consider one of the most degenerate, disgusting ships to be the main male character and....his wife's sister. And it certainly isn't isolated to elain/elriel stans, they were just the unlucky bastards to finally verbalize these insidious issues with fandom, especially ACOTAR fandom. Mostly just that the fandom is EXTREMELY conservative, and also that people that like the Popular Thing always have to make themselves out to be the ultimate victims. It's also in poor taste for running an event week. Yes, event weeks are run by fans in their free time, but the idea is to inspire EVERYBODY to create for the thing that you're a fan of. If you're so precious that simple seeing a ship you don't like sends you to the fainting couch, an event week is probably not the thing for you.

I wrote a whole essay on modern ACOTAR fandom here then deleted it bc YOU DID NOT ASK. But anyway THAT IS ELAINGATE we are all being very silly.

[thedvilsinthedetails]

goodbye [don’t get worried]

Hi hellsite users, 

sorry for the long post but I wanted to properly say goodbye. Before anyone starts worrying this is a good goodbye not a bad goodbye. 

But still, tumblr meant a lot to me for a period of time where I really wasn’t doing very well, I was crazy burnt out, my self esteem was nonexistent, I felt stuck in stasis and on top of that I was feeling like I had absolutely no one - like no one would care if I even lived or died.

Tumblr helped me feel so much less alone and I will always be thankful for the online world it allowed me to escape into and the amazing people I got to interact with and meet. 

The thing is, I’m doing a lot better now. I mean don’t get me wrong I’m by no means perfect and neither is my life but for the first time in a really, really fucking long time I actually feel like I’m capable of moving on and not being stuck anymore. A lot of things have changed - I don’t know if it’s good or bad but it was definitely necessary either way. 

I’ve got a lot of hope and excitement for the future, I’ve got proper dreams I want to work hard to achieve…in general I feel like I have a reason not to need to escape my life anymore. 

That’s why I think it’s time to stop visiting my little online world - or at least, I’m not going to be coming here as frequently anymore. If you want to talk to me, send me a message and I promise I’ll see it soon enough but I don’t really know if I’ll be posting much anymore. 

I’ll still be writing fics I think because I enjoy it but I’m definitely stepping down from blogging because I need to start being present in my own life. The only exception is that I might post links to my writing on ao3.

I know this sounded really dramatic at first and as you read you probably went - oh that’s kind of not a big deal. That’s because I’ll never not be a dramatic motherfucker <3 but also because this is actually a really big deal to me even if it probably shouldn’t be. 

To my amazing friends and mutuals I’ve met here - I’ll never forget you and I hope you don’t forget me. Please do feel free to DM me or drop stuff in my inbox.

Tagging some of my moots/friends: @sleepinginmygrave, @vivusmortuusexcrucior , @picklerab23, @mxed-salad-greens, @good-oldfashioned-lover, @addsalwayssick, @idk-what-to-put-here-123, @nikholascr0w, @icarus-last-fall

Intro post can be found here

[lazyfandombean]

Psst, you!

Hey, hey you! Yeah, you! I've got a question for ya. Do you feel normal about SCC (Sweet Cap'n Cakes)?

-> Yes -> No

[❤️Yes] [Ohhhh, I see. You're in denial, aren't you? ;)]

[❤️No] [Aha! Just as I projected- I mean suspected! Suspected. Yeah.]

Well, I've got some GREAT news for you! Have you ever felt saddened by the lack of SCC-centric fanfiction? Specifically the kind that depicts them as brothers instead of bandmates or partners (no shade to those depictions btw)?

No? Shut up yes you have /j

Yes? Fantastic! Well, no, sorry that you're sad :/ BUT! Be sad no longer! For I've come to save the day!

In the form of my newfound SCC hyperfixation!!!

That's right!! I've been going crazy about The Guys™️ for the past week or so, but to my absolute SHOCK, there are hardly ANY fanfics for them!!! And almost all them revolve around them as a SHIP! And no offense, but I just don't like reading about ships all that much, sorry!!! :(

SO!!! How am I going to fix this dilemma, I wondered? But THEN! I remembered something!! Something very, VERY important:

'Oh yeah I'm a fanfic author.'

Is this me implying that I'm now writing a bunch of SCC fanfiction in a very roundabout way? YES YES IT IS! :D

In fact, I've already posted one on Ao3 and have turned it into a 'series'! By that I just mean that the 'series' is really just a place for me to dump all of my SCC-centric fics. I'll link the series here, BUT I'll also be cross-posting most, if not all, of those fics from Ao3 to here on Tumblr!

Oh also link btw:

But why am I talking about it like this on Tumblr, you ask? Introducing it in such a way when I could have just started posting SCC content? For two reasons!

One: Idk I just felt like it

Two: Because!! It has come to my attention that hardly anybody on Ao3 even reads SCC fanfiction.

And no, this isn't me begging for like... kudos or subscriptions (or followers, I guess it is on Tumblr? Idk I don't use it much) or anything like that. What I AM asking for is for people to read it. Not because I want to get popular, but because...

I am very self-conscious about the way I write SCC.

Well, to be honest I'm just self-conscious about the way I write any fictional character. It's actually the thing I worry about the most when it comes to fanfiction; whether or not I'm getting the personalities right. And I'm aware that it's more about how you perceive the characters, and that headcanons are a thing (I have plenty of them myself), but in my opinion, there's a line between having a headcanon and writing something ooc. Headcanons are fine, yes, and I use them a lot (especially when it comes to Undertale and Deltarune characters), but I feel like it can get to the point where it's so ooc that it doesn't even feel like the same character. And that's something I definitely don't want to happen when I write about my three favorite guys EVER. So basically, I'm asking people to read my fics specifically so I can get feedback on how to write the characters.

Why didn't I ask my friends? Bold of you to assume I have any /hj

But no fr, none of my friends play Deltarune, and I'm not even sure if any of them have heard of it. My sister has played before, but she never really got into it, and it's been so long that I doubt she would even remember who SCC are if I asked.

So, I've taken it to random strangers on Tumblr!

There's only one work in the series right now, but I'm currently working on another and have many more ideas sitting in a doc, waiting to be written! I'll also take requests if anyone has any (which I doubt will happen but anything's possible I guess), but before I post any more, I'd really like to get some feedback from... someone, I guess. I dunno I just really want to do them justice 😭

Anyways, that's all! Sorry that this was so long and probably annoying to read, I just thought it'd be funny but now I don't even know aldkdsfljk- but I'm leaving it like this because why not I guess

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

(Saw someone do this and decided it seemed fun~

link to my ao3 here)

How many works do you have on AO3?

85.

What's your total AO3 word count?

915,568 words~

 What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it’s for Helios Rising Heroes, Hypnosis Mic, Obey Me, Paradox Live, and Twisted Wonderland!

I’ve previously written for A3!, Ace Attorney, Ace of Diamond, Borderlands, Bungou Stray Dogs, Free!, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Fire Force, Gorillaz, Hero Academia, Kuroko no Basuke, Magi, Naruto, Red Dead Redemption, Run with the Wind, RWBY, Shokugeki no Souma, Stardew Valley, Tokyo Ghoul

Top five fics by kudos?

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes [Twisted Wonderland] – 6,298

We’d Be a Hit Together [Haikyuu!!] – 6,211

Super Powered Love [My Hero Academia] – 5,436

A Devil’s Bride [Obey Me!] – 3,583

I Need Love [Hypnosis Mic] – 1,928

Do you respond to comments?

I try to! I always read and appreciate comments made on my posts, on AO3 and Tumblr, I always check to see if someone has tagged it with commentary <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

To be fair I hurt Malleus with the whole ‘you’re likely someone with a shorter lifespan’ idea constantly, but The Brightest Star was definitely a sadder one from my KNB days.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them because I truly hate unhappy endings. You can probably tell just from how I write that I try to put a positive spin on things, but I am trying to just let the angst happen or leave things off with ambiguity rather than specifying that a character only seems to feel a certain way when they’re actually feeling something else entirely.

Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally. I remember getting this angry message about me being a feminist because I made the reader like dom Hanamiya from KNB and they were MAAAAD about it lmao I also remember being on fanfic dot net and getting argued with and I just sent the brady bunch theme song over and over until they stopped messaging me back

Do you write smut?

I do! Not the biggest fan of it honestly because I never feel like it’s half as sexy as the things I read other people write, but I do get in moods and with certain characters they just need to be manhandled a lil, you know?

Craziest crossover?

I have never written a crossover in my LIFE

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Awhile back I did but I was told about it and the story was quickly taken down, I think it was on Wattpad or something like that.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I’ve gotten a handful of requests for my more popular ones to get translated, I don’t mind at all!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I mean I’m co-writing a book with the other admin on this blog, so does that count?

All time favorite ship?

Me and all my lil husbands.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I was writing this Criminal Minds fanfic that I had all plotted out, dramatic quotes at the beginning of episodes already picked, but I don’t think I’ll ever bother focusing on it.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say characterization is my strength! The characters are the best parts of fanfics after all and I always try to do research on the characters I write; if they’re ones I don’t know as well I’ll scan the wiki and read extra stories with them in it just to get a better handle on them! It’s why when there’s characters that haven’t been around long enough or don’t have a lot of content translated for them that I don’t like writing for them because I need at least something to go off of, I don’t want to have to make up their personality myself

What are your writing weaknesses?

Details. Which is a horrible thing to say as a writer, but I do feel like my writing lacks details here and there. Like with dialogue, I’ve been trying to write more in-between actions while the characters are talking since most people aren’t just standing still, especially if a character was doing something before another person entered the room. Descriptions of the world around the characters

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don’t like using google translate but I do have characters I love who speak other languages. Those heinous Hetalia days where you’d randomly put a word into the middle of an otherwise english sentence… they haunt me. But what I try to do with Citron from A3 is write some of his dialogue in parentheses to show he’s speaking in a language that the reader might not understand, and I feel like that works a little better for someone who doesn’t speak anything but english to do for the sake of not butchering another language.

First fandom you wrote in?

I truly wish I knew. I know I wrote for Naruto back in the day, and The Outsiders was one of the first full length fics I did. But that was back on Quizilla which has since turned to dust. I was also on Lunaescence for a while, whose creators have also turned to dust apparently. What a world

Favourite fic you've written?

It’s hard to pic just one when most of my fics are like, stand-alone short little things. But I think one I’m very fond of (which was written for the other admin so it explains why I put so much effort into it) was Snowy Mountain Getaway, which was a FE3H Dimitri/Reader College AU fic.

[thefailedabortioon]

The string that holds us together || Byler

WARNINGS: internalized homophobia

short summary: where mike finally spills the beans. and meanwhile on an ordinary night in november, two boys depart in a garage

requests are open!!

a/n: hai another flickergate fic to add onto the other 18 already existing fics. ^_^

heres the link to the og tumblr post (well, i think its the og post 😭) anyways i’ll stop yapping enjoy!

Will Byers had finally made a fascinating discovery; Mike Wheeler was an asshole.

Honestly, he didn’t know why he defended the guy for so, so long. Mike treated him like shit, why would Will feel like he should be the one begging for forgiveness to him?

Like, take for example, he didn’t even bother apologizing to Will after their argument in the rain. After he’d lost Will again when he biked away. The rain drowning his tears rolling down his red cheeks away. Even after he and Lucas had found him near Castle Byers destroyed by Will’s own hands, his lips never uttered a singular “Sorry.” Oh, but him and El? Those two made up quick. Next thing Will knew, Mike was professing his love for her and how he “couldn’t lose her again!” Has he ever said that about Will? His own best friend?

Or maybe, how Mike probably never even dared to pick up a pen and start inking down a letter for Will. He could write down El letters no problem. Hell, he could write her an entire book! But to Will? Someone he’s known since he was six years old! He couldn’t even call? Then, of course, to make up for the no contact, he decided to give Will the most half-assed hug to ever exist at that airport.

Or how about when he forgot his birthday. March 22nd. His best friend. Someone who Will considered the most special person he’s ever met. Someone who Will wants to spend the rest of his life with, forgets his own birthday. Who the hell does that? I mean, what? They’ve friends for seven- eight years?!

But right now, right now he has to pretend none of that ever even happened. He has to shrug all of that away. Pretend his heart wouldn’t ache at how he was slowly losing his once best friend.

Because some shit is more important than how his old tight-knit relationship with Mike is literally hanging on by a thread at this point. Like how they needed to save the world. Again.

The Upside Down was dark. And cold. It didn’t look like it changed at all, but even so, a chill ran through Will’s back with every step they took in this twisted dimension. Then somehow, by some Satan-blessed miracle, he got lost with the last person he wanted to be with; Michael Wheeler. Just peachy.

“I-I’m just saying, it’s a fucking wonder how Steve Harrington managed to survive in this shithole for so long, you know? Like- My sister, she’s a fucking badass, right? And Eddie, that guy’s got survival instincts, he could thrive in an apocalypse for years. And that uh- what’s her name- Robin? Yeah, she’s- she’s cool. But Steve? The same guy who got absolutely shitfaced by your brother?” Mike scoffed.

“Uh-huh.” Will was only partially listening, trying to keep up behind Mike and his weirdly long legs.

They were navigating themselves towards the Wheeler’s house, but it’s literally (and figuratively) hell trying to look for it in the Upside Down’s dark atmosphere and clouded skies. The only thing lighting their ways was the bolts of lightning that would occasionally crack and thunder in the crimson red sky. Oh, and the continuous flickering of the streetlights.

Mike continued to ramble on, wanting to at least make small-talk, Will knew that this was just another way to try and cope with the fact they had gotten themselves lost in a completely different dimension. Another way to try and convince himself that everything will be fine. Will knew too well.

As they neared the neighborhood, a vine cracked around the two.

“Mike, shut up.” Will raised his shotgun, cocking it, the latter only nervously chuckled before gripping his pistol.

An eerie quiet fell between the two, it was suspenseful. Anxiety struck Mike between his ribs after every second that passed by that the silence didn’t break.

A loud screech played from the distance, and the two let out a deep sigh. “Holy crap.” Will exclaimed, lowering his gun on the ground. He sat down and brought his knees up to his chest, holding his head in his hands.

Mike’s breathing was all over the place, his heart was racing. (Because of his anxiousness. Not at all because of the way Will looked holding that gun.) Whatever that thing was hadn’t even attacked them, yet he was a rattling mess. To be fair, it is his first time in this hellhole.

“Are you okay?” Mike finally spoke, still trying to catch his breath.

“Fine.” Will swallowed a lump in his throat, “Let’s get going.”

Mike nodded, holding his hand out for Will to hold. Surprisingly, he didn’t refuse it, using it to get back on his feet. “Yeah, let’s go.” And just for a split second, Mike had given Will that look again. Where he just looks so mesmerized and smitten. As if Will had hung the stars in his dark horizon. It didn’t last for any longer than just a split second.

After a while of walking, they finally reached the Wheeler’s residence. Where everything happened. The house where Mike himself couldn’t even call it home. “Come on, follow me. I’ll lead you there.”

“I’ve been to your house a thousand times, Mike. I know where your garage is.” He wouldn’t let Mike see it, but in the faintest of all smiles, was a grin plastered on Will’s lips.

“Yeah, but it’s dark.” Mike retorted.

No shit, Sherlock! Was what Will wanted to say, bitterly. But he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the time. “Fuck. It’s locked.”

“Great.” He sighed, “Could you lead me to the keys as well?”

Mike hesitated to answer, as if he was debating if Will was being sarcastic or not, “It’s gotta be here somewhere.” He finally replied, pushing himself between Will and the door.

The two split up, despite how dim it was, Will at least had common sense. So he started to look for bowls that could hold the keys. Maybe they were hooked against the front door? He continued searching, flashing his light on for the darker areas of the house, such as the basement.

“Will!” Mike called out, running back to where he left him. “Found the keys!” He beamed, and Will literally felt his heart skip a beat at how much he missed seeing that smile.

“Don’t shout so loud! Remember, if any other creature hears you, so can Vecna.”

“Right. Sorry. Hive-mind.” He swung the keys around before twisting it in the door. “Open sesame.”

Will snorted, trying to keep his guard up for anything that could lunge at the them at any second. He shone his flashlight against the shelves on the wall. “Mike, crowbar.” With no question, Mike ran over and took it from the toolbox.

He stuffed it inside his backpack along with his other materials. As he tried to make it fit, a pair of longing eyes bore into the back of his head.

Will grimaced, when did they get so distant? Physically, they were close. But emotionally, it feels like he doesn’t even know him anymore. As if they haven’t known each other since kindergarten. As if he hadn’t replied ‘yes’ to him that day on the swings. It’s felt like eons since they last had a conversation without a thick cloud of awkwardness floating above them.

If El had never came along would their relationship remain the same? But then again, if she had never saved him, there would be no relationship at all. Will used to be so confused why he had so much hope in Michael Wheeler, but these past few years made him understand why. It’s just so hard to say it out loud and a guilt would rise in his throat every time he thought about it.

“Mike?”

His friend perked up at him, “Yeah?”

“Are we… still friends?”

“What?” Mike scoffed, confused.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” He paused, thinking it over. Were they? “You don’t- You don’t think of me as your friend anymore?” He asked, voice faltering in worry.

“No! No, I- I just..”

“What?”

“I dunno… we were just so close. But it feels like there’s this huge gap between the two of us now.”

“I…”

“It feels like you’ve been pushing me away.” Will finished, his brows furrowing.

“I’m not pushing you away.” The tallest out of the two stated, Mike looked dejected, like he was trying to convince himself of that more than Will, who broke through his lies easier than everyone else. Because Mike always kept his walls thin and easier to break whenever it was Will. Because it was him, and not anybody else.

“Then why does it feel like I can’t even say anything to you anymore?! Like, you just turned into everyone else? You didn’t even-“ Will cut himself off, tears burning the back of his eyes. He took a deep breath, wiping his hands on his pants.

Mike’s chest tightened, has he been neglecting Will? All this time? Something inside of him wanted to beat himself up for letting his friend- best friend deal with everything, his own inner conflicts all by himself.

Will let out a laugh, though there was no humor behind it. It was dry, flat. “Couldn’t even call?”

“What- What do you mean!?” He stuttered, “I did call, Will! I tried! But you never picked up! You’re acting as if you haven’t been pushing me away as well! Ever since- Ever since I arrived in Lenora you’ve been weird—“

“Weird? Really? Really, Mike?! I’ve been the one acting weird?”

“Yeah! Just-“ Mike sighed, “You know what? Forget it. It’s stupid.” Mike threw his hands in the air, trying to mediate the situation yet failing miserably. He grabbed a bike, removing its brakes, twisting the handles in his palm.

He wanted the fighting to just stop altogether. He couldn’t face Will. He couldn’t face the effects of the conflicts he caused. Because if he did, then everything would crumble. The Earth would crack and break in two while he tried to balance himself on both sides above the split made. And eventually, he’d fall. And fall endlessly into the scars of his mistakes. The scars that run deep into his veins, his soul. Everything hurts.

“No. No, Mike, you can’t keep doing this to me. You’re- you’re doing it again! You’re pushing me away! You’re shutting me out!”

“I’m not! Please, can we just stop?! This is meaningless okay? Where are you even going with this?! You want me to say sorry? Apologize?“

Will didn’t move or say anything, his brows furrowing further, his mouth pulled into a deep frown.

“Then I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry! I’m really fucking sorry. I’ve been a selfish dickhead and I’ve just been scared. Okay?! So fucking scared.” He screamed, panicked. The first tear that dropped fell from Mike. The waves hit the walls hard, and it was as if a dam had finally broke. He finally broke. “I didn’t want to see- acknowledge you, I couldn’t even stand looking at you anymore! Because something in me would ache, like- like something burning in my fucking soul! And it hurts, Will. It hurts so much. And I’ve felt so guilty for everything that I just… I thought the best solution was to just push everyone away! Push you away…” His voice cracked at the end, tears falling endlessly against his rose tinted cheeks.

He huffed out a breath, “I’ve been going crazy because of it. And I just… I don’t want to keep lying to you anymore. Wasn’t that our number one rule? ‘Friends don’t lie.’ If- If you could even consider me as your friend anymore.” Mike wiped his tears away, ridding the blurriness in his eyes keeping him from seeing his best friend.

Will stood before him, mouth agape. He didn’t realize it, but at some point, he’d started crying as well. Everything, every word Mike said, it felt like boulders finally crashing down from Will’s shoulders, freeing him from the weight of his guilt.

“Mike…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, sorry, Will. I shouldn’t have said anyth-“

“Stop apologizing for one fucking second, Mike!” Will cut him off.

And there was this moment. A beat.

Then without any thought or reason, driven by pure impulse, Will threw himself against Mike, colliding their mouths together. His lips were soft, and wet. Will had waited for this for so, so long, it became maddening and impossible for him to stop himself from lunging towards his best friend, his crush for basically nine years, the love of his fucking life. Will kept his hand against the low of Mike’s back, the other cupping his cheek. His thoughts scrambled, unable to make one coherent thought because he was kissing Michael Wheeler , (who he once thought was as straight as a ruler, but he’s been wrong about a lot of things.) Kissing Mike was like finally letting go of all the suppressed tension bottling inside of his stomach. Kissing Mike was freeing his soul from the chains of his insecurity and hopelessness. Kissing Mike felt so fucking good.

Fireworks exploded in Mike’s head when he finally got to taste Will Byers, or maybe that was just lightning thundering behind them. The piece of string that wouldn’t stop pulling at his heart had let go. And all the yearning, and hoping, and wishing came true. Everything became so confusing, he hadn’t imagined Will to even look at him with that same look of longing he’d always give him. And so God help him, if this was another cruel trick by Vecna, he’d rather just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid. He grabbed Will’s hands, intertwining them into his own.

Will finally pulled away, lips pink. Sometimes he wished human beings didn’t need oxygen to live, because then he could kiss Mike for longer than eternity. “If you’re… going crazy, then we’ll go crazy together. Okay?” He said firmly.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Crazy together.”

Will tittered, “Asshole.” He held his best friend close, not wanting to let go.

A loud buzz rung above the two, the light in the Wheeler’s garage started to glow. And faintly, you could hear an echo of a voice from the other side.

—

Meanwhile, on a seemingly ordinary day in November, were two boys giving their final goodbyes to each other for the night.

“It was a seven.”

The other turned.

“The roll, it was a seven. The demogorgon, it got me.”

“Oh.”

“See you tomorrow!”

As Will biked away, a flicker of the ceiling light buzzed in the garage.

[deepspacedukat]

Hey DSD!

Nonny here, do have a list of any writers you would recommend and maybe even one or two of their fics?

Would love some more reading material and thank you so much if you do end up sharing with me.

Hi Nonny! Absolutely, I do! There are a ton of amazing writers, both here and on AO3, especially for Star Trek since it's such a long-standing fandom. I will absolutely list some of my favorites, but please do not be afraid to explore the tags both on AO3 and here on tumblr, because there are a ton of amazing writers that I haven't encountered yet, and I'm probably leaving some out unintentionally. (I'm so sorry! My memory is like that of a gnat at times!)

Also, on my pinned welcome post under the "Keep Reading" there's a link you can click that will (hopefully) take you to all the posts I've tagged on here as fic recs! So feel free to take a look at that too!

I highly recommend any/all stories by the following authors, and beneath their names I'll list 2-3 of my favorite stories from each:

@creature-of-the-stars - on AO3 here as ToeBeansMcGee

"Weeds Among Stones" <- this is ongoing and brilliant and amazing and i love it 🥰

"Oh, Don't Mind Us" <- this is a oneshot sequel to another favorite called "Be Still" which is a multi-chapter that I adore 🫶

"Keep Your Enemies Closer"; the sequel "Rekkhai"; and the follow-up "Beyond Fortunate" <- just pure perfection *chef's kiss* 🤌

@bigblissandlove1 - on AO3 here as bigblissandlove

"The Raptor's Descent" <- many chapters and it gave us S'Talon and just utterly delicious 😍

"The Assignment" <- a gorgeous oneshot that gave me emotions 😭💖

"Surrender To Me" <- a long oneshot that made me fall in love with a side character 💚

@horta-in-charge - on AO3 here as Horta-In-Charge

"X Minus 1" <- it hab sad, wet-eyed Weyoun, I mean, what more could you want??? 👀💜

"Broken Covenant" <- cannot words enough to praise this sufficiently, so just go read it 🧡

"Fantasy" <- the emotions omfg THE EMOTIONS 😭💖

@starrynightgardens - on AO3 here as jaylens_twin

"Proposition" <- this fic and it's epilogue are gorgeous and I have read it so many times 🫶

"Things Unseen" <- this is an amazing multi-chapter fic and there are so many emotions 💚

"Regenesis" <- I...there are no words, this is so amazing 💜

@leopardcoffee - on AO3 here as Leopardcoffee

"Ashayam, I despise you" <- beautiful, chef's kiss, excellent! 💙

"Maroon" <- it's a wip and a damn good wip 🥰

"On Pause" &lt;- the angst omfg 😭❤️

@crowfootwrites - on AO3 here as CrowfootWrites

"Devotion & Diplomacy" <- as far as I know, this is the first Star Trek fic they've written, and it's an absolutely gorgeous wip 💖

@stay-neurotic - on AO3 here as stayneurotic

"A Prisoner's Needs" <- how do I even words about this??? 🥵💜

The entire "Keevan and the Spy" series <- read the tags before you start; this scratches a very specific itch ❤️

The entire "A Hostage Situation" series <- read the tags before you start; this also scratches a very specific itch 💖

@maybeamultiverse - on AO3 as maybeamultiverse

"A Matter of Security" <- it has young Vreenak, so how could I not adore it??? 💚

"The Vulcan's Limerence" <- Solok/Sisko!!!!! 💙

"War Birds" <- this is honestly such a well-written Letant fic. ngl, the whole fic is fabulous, but the first three chapters live rent-free in my brain and they always will 🥵

@emilie786 - on AO3 as Emilie_786

The entire "Discs" series <- apparently I'm v behind in this series, but I've read the majority of it and I am SO IN LOVE WITH HOW THEY WRITE SHRAN 💙

"Paranoid" <- this is...how do I even describe how much I love this fic??? 🫶

"The Hug" <- god, this is just SO CUTE 🥺

@foreverforty2 - on AO3 as forever_42

"His Eyes Speak" <- read the tags for this one; honestly such an amazing fic! 👀 (have I even talked about this fic here?? if I haven't, then I've been very remiss!) to be completely transparent, I haven't read any of their other works, because (I believe) most of the rest are Star Wars centered, and I don't know pretty much anything about Star Wars.

@indignantlemur - on AO3 as IndignantLemur

"Emigre" <- obviously this is on there. a fabulous fic, excellent, wonderful, stupendous, glorious! if you like Andorians, this is the fic for you! 💙

"The Stars Keep Watch" <- badass Andorian from SNW my beloved 🥰

@sleepycat82 - on AO3 as MeowMeowPowPow

"Grace Under Pressure" <- a gorgeous Letant/Reader/Vreenak fic that deserve a ton of love 💜

"Emergency Surgery" <- istfg one of the few good things to come from PIC is Krinn, and I'm so excited to see where this wip takes his character 👀

"The Wager" <- I literally just saw that this existed and I'm about to go start it. 💚

@ericbogosbian - on AO3 as Vorta_Scholar

"Testing the Effects" <- yes i'm outing myself as a Data smut enjoyer, but this...it's good Data smut 💛

Any of their Sito Jaxa/Vorik works 🫶

"Reprieve" <- omfg this is some good smut that i honestly didn't know I needed til I found it!! 💜

@attention-bajoranworkers - on AO3 as beyond_antares

"Just this once (and then once again)" <- this is a gorgeous wip and it will continue to be gorgeous. Dukat smut, my beloved 💖

"Moments" <- such sweet Malcolm fluff 💙

@schn-tgai-scripted - on AO3 as SchntgaiScripted

"A Good Vulcan Husband" <- this fic has made SUCH A MESS OF ME (in a good way, obviously) 💚

"See A Need" <- this was the first Vorik fic I ever read and I will always recommend it. it has some smut, some feels...i love it 💛

"A Bad Vulcan Prophet" <- read the tags; I...I don't even...I just love it 🖤

@brokenblade-legendarycreature - on AO3 as BrokenBlade

"Exceptional Airs and Dances" <- MORE WIIIINEEE 🍷

"Make It Harder" <- I feel no shame for the copious amount of times I've read this particular Dukat smut 💖

"Spa Service (Relief)" <- I just...yep. 💜

@love-at-first-contact - on AO3 as Graphite_crumble

The entire "Gwemmer" series <- Hemmer and an OC being adorable af. what more could you want??? 🤍

The entire "Vorik and Juna" series <- this pair is just utterly precious. I love them 💛

"Together" <- Vorik/Reader/Taurik fic...omfg I just...I have so many feelings about this 👀

@shibonoku - on AO3 as Shibonoku

Literally any of their Vorik fics. they're just absolutely fabulous 💖

Also, any of their Solok fics 💙

itsthemirrorforme on AO3 (no idea if they have a tumblr tbh)

literally all of them. read the tags first, of course, but all of them!! 💜

WikkityTweak on AO3 (no idea if they have a tumblr)

"Holosuite Number 3" <- This is THE FIC that made me fall in love with Senator Letant 💚 the author mentioned a potential sequel, but they haven't updated since 2016, so...for now i'll simply savor this fic's existence.

"True Weakness" <- this is an awesome Solok fic 🖤

@eyes-of-the-fox - on AO3 as dhiamn_aehallhh

"Small Tales" <- these are gorgeous stories; the Soval/Forrest ones are my favorite 💙

Honestly, all of their Maxwell Forrest/Soval fics are gorgeous 🫶

@the-stags-cave - on AO3 as StagofRomulus - alternately find vem on Quotev here as Stag of Romulus

"Ahr'ehraet Hru'rhaarhno: Season 1" <- half Romulan McCoy!!!!!!! Also McCoy/Spock SCREEEEE 💜

Admittedly I haven't read all of ver works, but vey are such a great writer, I can't help but recommend literally all of those stories!!

[aeyumicore]

what's mine

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, not canon events (completely fictional)

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 10.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, first time sex with zayne (not virginity loss), jealous!zayne, dom!zayne, zayne slightly loses control of evol, furniture breaks, lot’s of teasing, fictional characters, size kink, vaginal sex, oral sex f!receiving, tongue fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, slightly drunk sex (not really), tummy bulge, posessive/claiming behavior, let me know if i missed anything!

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooo writing for my fav zayne again <3 would you guys believe this is actually the first lads fic i ever started but i put it on hold because it was way too elaborate and i didn’t want to make a whole like multi chapter fic? i actually cut out a lotttt of it, it probably would’ve been more like 30k words if i kept the same writing style/detail i had originally, and i just could not do that to myself

also the matthew/intern mentioned in the fic is completely made up and fictional, he is not a reference to any characters! i couldn’t bring myself to use greyson for the purposes of the plot bc i think he and zayne are so cute LOL god i love the jealous angsty feelings trope 

pls enjoy hehe i luv u guys <3 also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore :’)

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

"Will you go to dinner with me?”

You whip your head around to see where the unfamiliar voice came from, coming face to face with one of the surgical interns of the Akso hospital. You’d run into him several times before when visiting Zayne at work, but never quite got his name.

"Me?” 

The intern chuckles at your dumbfoundedness, which he thinks is adorable, "Yes, you’re Y/N right? My name is Matthew. I'm one of the surgical interns here. So, will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?”

Zayne chokes on his rice from the seat beside you, patting his chest a few times to clear his throat. You’d decided to have lunch with Zayne after your check-up today; well more like you’d forced him to the cafeteria with you against his will. You’d desperately wanted to try the infamous mint chocolate chip jello the hospital cafeteria served, even though you knew it’d be disgusting. And so you both sat at a table in the cafeteria, you with your jello and Zayne with a homemade bento box you’d made for him, along with some of his favorite pastries from the bakery down the street.

At his coughs, the intern’s eyes snapped to Zayne’s and it was like he’d just then realized Zayne was there, the surprise and anxiety written all over his expression. Zayne was always someone who commanded respect and fear from his colleagues and subordinates, so much so that Matthew had turned pale as a ghost. 

"Oh! Dr. Zayne, I'm so sorry I didn’t realize–” but Zayne cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand. 

"It’s fine. Continue your conversation.” You’re a bit taken back by Zayne’s nonchalance. Sure, you were just childhood friends but it would be nice if Zayne had any reaction at all to being asked out right in front of him. You yourself couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards Zayne but it was seeming more and more that it was completely one sided.

"I, um…” you’re at a loss for words, not knowing how to let the handsome intern down. Matthew was honestly very attractive, and seemed kind enough, but you had hoped to spend your friday night with Zayne, though you hadn’t had the chance to ask him yet. He’d been swamped with surgeries and patients the last few days and you hardly got to see him at all. And you missed him thoroughly.

"I actually had plans with Zay– I mean dr. Zayne,” you glance at Zayne, hoping he’ll get the message, but the expression on his face is dark and unreadable. 

"No we don’t. You should go,” Zayne’s tone is cold and his eyes refuse to meet yours. Despite yourself, your heart clenches in disappointment. You know Zayne could be obtuse but he was also extremely intelligent and perceptive. He undoubtedly knew you wanted to spend your night with him. But it was becoming more and more apparent he did not want to spend his with you.

"But i–”

"I have plans anyways.” Your eyes can’t help but sting as he avoids looking at you. So you try to steel yourself; you were a big girl and a little bit of unrequited affection would not destroy you. Keeping your voice steady and blinking back unshed tears of frustration, you look up at Matthew, his eyes lighting up at you expectantly, and you try to give him your best smile.

"I...I would love to go to dinner with you!”

You don’t notice the deep scowl on Zayne’s face as a dark icy storm brews in his green eyes. 

–

You stumbled out of the taxi, your way-too-high heels catching on the foot step almost causing you to trip headfirst into the pavement. You sigh as you catch yourself on the cab door and glance at your hunter watch and see that it’s already 1am. 

"Get home safe miss, and no more drinks, you hear me?” Your cab driver reprimands you teasingly.

"Yes sir,” you mock salute him as you wobble onto your feet, thoroughly drunk, "Thank you so much! Please drive safe. Good night sir!”

"Good night miss!” 

You turn towards your apartment building, sighing in exhausted defeat. What an absolute disaster of a night.

The date was unexpectedly wonderful. Matthew was handsome, kind, funny, and a complete gentleman. He brought you to a very fancy and expensive restaurant downtown, so you wore one of your most elegant dresses, not that you had many. It was a simple satin black mid-length evening dress, with a slit that exposed just up to your mid thigh and an open back that accentuates your figure. You’d normally never wear something so sensual on a first date, but you couldn’t deny that the way Zayne had reacted, or not reacted, stung your heart. So maybe you did go a little extra tonight because you were hurt. So what?

After dinner, Matthew and you took a leisurely stroll at linkon park, with enough time to catch the sunset. As you watched the sun melt into the sea of golden yellows and dusky pinks, Matthew kissed you. It was passionate, slow, and soft. The perfect kiss.

Except when you moaned out Zayne’s name. 

And so the night ended as quickly as it began. Matthew was as understanding as he possibly could have been, but you could tell it killed anything that could have happened between the two of you. Matthew was a surgical intern, so with what little free time he had, he said he couldn’t chance it on a girl who was clearly already in love with someone else, especially if that someone was his boss and mentor. He’d offered to give you a ride back home but you refused, saying you’d grab a cab instead.  

So you found yourself at a bar, downing shots of soju to numb the mortification of your blunder but also the feeling of utter patheticness. Hours went by as you wallowed in your emotions. You’d had feelings for Zayne for as long as you could even remember. And still, you couldn’t tell him or move on from him. 

But maybe you would have the guts to tell him if it didn’t feel like he literally could not give two cents about you, beyond as a patient and as his annoying childhood friend. It was literally like pulling teeth to get him to spend any time at all with you lately. 

So here you were, stumbling into your apartment building at 1:37 am: drunk, exhausted, and empty. The night breeze raised goosebumps on your exposed thighs as your heels clicked on the pavement in the dark. 

You headed toward your apartment, through the main entrance and up the lobby elevator, the alcohol still making your brain swim. Luckily you no longer saw double, and your eyelids no longer felt like a ton of bricks.  

The elevator door dinged open and you trudged toward your unit, your toes screaming in protest in the confine of your heels. You forced your vision to cooperate with you as you tried to punch in your door code. The error buzz sounded out, again and again, and you groaned in frustration.

In the blurry edges of your vision, a large and slightly scarred hand reached over yours. Yelping, you whip yourself around and reach to grab the gun you always had strapped to your thigh. But from the icy cold touch against your fingers and the scars littering the pink skin, you realize exactly who it was.

"Zayne?” You did your best not to slur, trapped between him and your front door. You don’t miss how he swears under his breath as his eyes trail down your body, lingering at all your exposed skin, before snapping back up to your face. You can’t even imagine how wrecked you must look right now, mentally kicking yourself for not touching up after the bar. Your gloss was undoubtedly smeared from the kiss and the copious alcohol, your hair a bird’s nest from the night breeze, and your mascara smeared from the stray tears of your drunken emotions.

You didn’t do a very good job at steeling your voice because Zayne saw right through you, his eyes narrowing as they absolutely drank you in, "You’re drunk?” His voice holds a dangerous edge, as if mad that you’d have the audacity to be drunk. He deftly types your access code in, and gently ushers you into your apartment. You stumble in your heels against his body, and Zayne wraps his arm around your waist to catch you before you fall. You flush at the way his hands palm the exposed skin of your lower back. 

"M’not drunk,” you protest, swatting his hand away, not wanting your body to give any of your feelings towards him away, but Zayne only grips you tighter, fingers flitting between the soft satin material of your dress and the goosebump ridden skin of your back. His arm on your waist feels so right, threatening to make you melt right into his embrace. But you fight the urge, trying to hold onto your annoyance.

You can’t see his eyes but you know they’re rolling in their sockets at your obvious drunkeness. He gently guides you through the threshold of your home and then kneels down before you. The sight of him on the floor in front of your feet makes you reel, hoping the furious blush is masked by the flush of alcohol in your blood.

"W-what are you doing?” You try to step back, but your knees wobble and Zayne grips your thigh in place. You shiver at his cold touch on your sensitive skin, a little too high for you to keep any semblance of calm.

"Do you want to stay in these deathtraps?” He murmurs as he starts to slip the strappy heels off of your aching feet. His fingers around your ankle tingle as he softly massages the red skin of where the straps dug in.

"Zayne? Why are you here? Did something happen?” Your voice wavers still, but Zayne’s cold touch is starting to sober you up and clear your vision as your mind tries its best to focus on him. Zayne doesn’t respond as he lifts your other foot and slips the other heel off. His fingers linger on your bare legs before he slips your house slippers on your feet, standing back up to tower over you. 

"It’s almost 2 in the morning, and you’re just now coming home,” his voice is hard and stern, it’s clear he has things he wants to say but you’re in no mood for a lecture on sexual safety, stds, and stranger danger. 

"I was busy,” you snap, your emotions running extra high from everything that had happened today, especially Zayne’s nonchalance. But he’s incredibly patient with you, as he always is, taking you by the waist nagain and leading you to your living room couch. You’re too tired to resist, and you desperately need to get off your aching feet.

"How was your date?” Zayne sits you on your couch and then heads to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. His question reminds you of how royally you screwed up today and your mood sours even more. 

"Fine,” you mutter, trying to keep from snapping at him again. Zayne sits beside you and brings the glass of water to your lips, tilting it for you with his fingers on your jaw. You take deep gulps, the cold water soothing your entire sore body. Sinking further into the couch, your mind wanders back to your disastrous screw up. You’d called Matthew Zayne. It literally couldn’t get more mortifying than that.

Zayne stares at you and you know he doesn’t believe you, so you murmur again, "It was fine.” But as his intense eyes bore holes into you, your voice cracks under all the feelings you’d stuffed deep down today. 

He was here now and it confused you to no end. You’d wanted nothing more than to spend your day with him, but he’d pushed you away. Were you really that blind that you’d developed feelings for a man who did not feel even slightly the same way? 

Your eyes well up with tears at the thought and you try to subtly brush them away by pretending to scratch your cheek, but as always Zayne sees right through you. 

"Did he do something to you? Did he get you drunk?” Zayne’s voice is calm but hard and threatening.enough to scare you if it weren't for the way he softly gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, using his free thumb to catch the tears before they can slip down your cheek

But through it all, you register the implication of his words. "Wh-what? No!” You exclaim, "Matthew was a complete gentleman.”

His eyes track yours, unwilling to let go of your gaze, "Then why are you crying?” 

You blink back your tears before more can fall onto his thumb. Your voice wavers as you stare into the hazel green ocean of his eyes, and you answer his question with a question of your own, "Why are you here Zayne?” 

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe.” Your chest constricts with unrelenting emotions, but your drunken haze makes you even more steadfast in your stubborn resolve. 

"Well I'm home, safe,” you avert your eyes, knowing if Zayne keeps staring at you with that intensity you’ll start to unravel and confess everything.

"Why did you take a cab home?”

Your eyes snap to his, "How did you know I took a cab?” And this time Zayne’s eyes refuse to meet yours, "Zayne? How long have you been waiting for me?”

Zayne doesn’t respond, instead brushing the tangles out of your hair. You try to get his attention by tugging at his tie, the alcohol making you feel much bolder than you normally ever would. 

You can see his adam's apple bob as he lets himself be drawn in, only slightly, towards you. At your pout, he sighs in defeat, prying your hands away so he can loosen the tightened hold around his neck, "I’ve been waiting for you…forever.” 

Before you can respond, he clears his throat and continues, "I got here at 9 and waited in my car when I knocked and you didn't answer.”

At your bewildered expression, he sighs and elaborates, "I just wanted to see you get back home safely. But when I saw you get out of that cab I needed to come check on you.”

Your brows furrowed as your sobering self tried to do the math in your head. Zayne can practically see the steam coming out of your ears and smiles lopsidedly, chuckling under his breath at how adorable you were being.

"You waited for 7 hours?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide. 

His grin deepens and you can see his eyes sparkling with laughter , "You are drunk. Why are you drunk?”

You purse your lips shut, unwilling to speak. With all the overwhelming emotions swarming your mind, you knew if you started talking now you would surely never stop.

At your silence, Zayne prods gently, "Talk to me, Y/N.” His voice is deep and commanding in a way that almost always gets you to listen to him. 

You zip your lips shut and turn away, doing your damn best to not give in. But Zayne’s touch, still on your cheeks, forces you back towards his eyes.

"Be a good girl,” he demands softly, his eyes searching yours for answers. 

Blowing out your cheeks like a child, you’re unwilling to give up the attitude, "I’m drunk because I was drinking.”

"Did Matthew take advantage of you?” Zayne’s jaw is locked and the intensity in his eyes is blinding, damn near dangerous. 

"No! Zayne, no. I went to a bar to drink alone, after our date,” you try to hide the embarrassment from seeping into your voice.

"Why? Did he do something to you?” His voice is still threatening, and you sigh at the unrelenting questions. You knew Zayne well enough to know he wasn’t going to let up, so it would just be easier on you if you told him everything that happened.

"Matthew was amazing,” you don’t notice the way Zayne’s eyes darken at your praises for the intern, "The date was fantastic. And after, we saw the sunset.” His expression is still unreadable and you start to fidget under his intense gaze, not knowing in the slightest what he was thinking. 

"And then he kissed me. We kissed. And that was it. I went to the bar and he went home. End of story.” 

Zayne’s fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white, but he keeps his gaze steady. He doesn’t speak, and you’re scared of the tense silence that falls between you two.

"He couldn’t at least accompany you? Make sure you were safe?” You can tell Zayne is angry by the way his feet taps uncharacteristically erratically against the floor, "Driven you home?”

His questions make it impossible for you to forget about your horrifying mistake today and you just feel so incredibly bad for Matthew. The regret and embarrassment gnaw at your mind like parasites. And so against your better, albeit slightly still drunken, judgment, you finally blow.

"He left because I was thinking of you, okay? Matthew was a gentleman, he was funny, kind, and charming. And yet I was thinking of you the whole time. And so he left and I went to a bar and got drunk all on my own, okay?”

"You were thinking of me?” Zayne’s voice is an annoying mix of bewilderment, intrigue, and what sounds like mockery, which just infuriates you.

"I am always thinking of you Zayne! I thought about you at dinner, I thought about you when we watched the sunset, and I thought about you when he kissed me,” you burst, your drunken lack of inhibitions leaving nothing unsaid. 

Zayne’s face is unreadable again, but there’s a heat in his eyes that makes you tremble in your seat, "You were thinking of me when he kissed you?”

Unable to bear his unrelenting repetitive questions anymore, you explode, "Yes Zayne! And when he kissed me I called out for you!” The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think twice about it. It takes you a second to realize what you’d just blurted out and you bury your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to scream at the top of your lungs. Unfortunately it was 2am and you had neighbors that most definitely would not appreciate that. 

You feel his strong hands grab your wrists gently, prying your hands away from your face, wanting to see you, "You called for me?” His tone is as amused as it is intrigued and it frustrates you to no end, the shame weighing heavily on your mind. 

"Don’t tease me right now Zayne,“ you warn weakly, "I am always thinking about you. But you…” your voice trails off to a shallow whisper, "You don’t seem to think about me.”

Zayne is silent but his eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen them, staring into your soul. The silence is thick in the air as you refuse to be the one to break it.

Finally, he speaks, voice clouded with indiscernible emotions, "Is that what you really think? That I don’t think about you?”

"Do you really think I waited for 5 hours, in my car, for you to come back because I don’t think about you?” Your breath catches in your throat at the pure and raw growl in his voice. 

Before you can respond, he continues, "I think about you every second of every day. I thought about you all day, thought about you on your date with Matthew.”

Zayne shifts so that he can cup your face with both his hands, drawing his face closer but not close enough, "I thought about him getting to hear your voice, getting to touch you…to kiss you. It drove me insane.” 

Your feelings churn in your stomach and into your chest, making it hard to breathe. The way Zayne is looking at you, his hands holding your face so possessively, threatens to stop your heart altogether. You’re drawn to him all over again, only this time it feels like he might be drawn to you too.

"W-why?”

Zayne doesn’t speak, and you watch as his eyes flutter to your parted lips as you pant out your breaths, eyes fighting to stay open amidst all the tension enveloping the two of you. 

"Why did you push me to go with him then?”

His eyes force themselves onto yours, as if unwilling to leave your lips, "I made a mistake.” 

His revelations quickly sober you up, and you’re left feeling vulnerable but bold. You softly grab a fist full of his tie, pulling him closer. You can faintly hear him groan under his breath, but he lets himself be guided towards you. Your lips are so close to each other that you’re inhaling each other in, and you beg gently, "Kiss me, Zayne.” 

Zayne wastes no time at all, threading his fingers from your cheek into your hair, pulling your face the remainder of the distance to his own. 

Your first kiss with Zayne is nothing like you’d daydreamed it would be. You’d imagined the patient and reserved surgeon to be soft, gentle, taking his time with you. You’d expected it to be passionate but reserved, like the handsome raven haired man himself. 

And while the passion was undeniably there, what you didn’t expect was the bruising claiming heat that came with it. Zayne’s soft lips marked you as his own, a lifetime’s worth of emotions evident in the way he molded himself against you. With every twitch of his lips, Zayne laid claim to what was his. He kissed you like you might disappear at any moment, as if this was all a dream.

And when his tongue swiped across the parting of your lips, asking for permission to enter, you gladly relented control and authority. After all, you were his. You think you had been for some time.  

You hadn’t expected your first kiss with Zayne to be like this, and yet it was everything you wanted and more.

When you shift yourself to climb on top of him and straddle him on your couch, Zayne reluctantly pulls away, hands still gripping the back of your head, "Y/n, we should stop.” But he can’t stop his hands from leaving your soft hair and resting on your hips, almost like a reflex. His words say one thing but his hands just can't seem to pry themselves off of you.

You’re taken aback by his words, unable to stop the insecurity and hurt that paints your face. Zayne notices instantly, one of his hands leaving your hips to stroke your cheek, hooking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into his hand, the whiplash starting to exhaust you as much as it kept you on your toes. 

"I want to,” he whispers hoarsely as you squirm on top of him, answering your unsaid thoughts, "I can’t even convey how much I've fucking wanted to. But you’re drunk. And the first time I finally take you...I want you to feel every second of it.” 

Your eyes flutter at his words, stomach clenching in anticipation. Having fully sobered up a while ago, before he even kissed you, you can’t help but beg a little, "I’m not drunk anymore. And even if I was… I want you. I’ve wanted you…forever.” 

Zayne swears, his eyes going full doctor mode, and you can tell he’s inspecting every inch of you to try and discern if you’re truly sober or not. You fidget nervously under his intense stare, to which his hands grip your waist painfully tight to keep you in place.

"Stop,” he grits out forcefully, as if in pain. You do your best to still in his lap, and that’s when you feel the unmistakable bulge of his erection underneath your parted dress that had ridden up to bunch at your hips, right against the pantyhose against your cunt. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?” He groans as your body presses deeper into his lap, "Because once…we start I won’t be able to stop.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the heated warning doing nothing but arousing you to your core. Through your hooded eyes, you nod eagerly at him, "M’sure Zayne. Won’t want to stop.” 

He smirks at you, a heart stopping smile that melts your brain and cunt simultaneously into a leaking mess, "You asked for it love.” 

Before you can even have the chance to physically combust at the affectionate pet name, Zayne whisks you into the air, scooping you under your exposed knees effortlessly. You yelp, clutching onto his neck as he carries you like a bride into your bedroom, navigating your apartment like he owned it. He bent down to capture your lips with his again, like he couldn’t physically wait to get you to your bed before claiming you again. 

You feel the cold press of your sheets against your spine as Zayne sets you down gently, and settles in between your thighs on top of you. His eyes absolutely devour you whole, raking up and down your exposed satin clad skin, "You look beautiful. I’ve been wanting to tell you all night.” His praise is throaty with desire and it makes you squeeze your thighs together against his body in anticipation. Your face heats at his words, and you run your palms up and down his abdomen, the material of his dress shirt feeling like silk against your burning skin. 

Zayne grins and chuckles, mostly to himself, but the sound catches your attention and you find yourself pouting in self-consciousness, "What’s funny?”

Zayne’s long fingers trace the outlines of your body under the satin dress, eliciting soft moans from you that please him to his core, "You just look so beautiful.” His fingers reach the bottom of your dress and begin to stroke the fabric of your pantyhose, inching up under your dress, so torturously slowly, "You wore this for him, yet I'm the one that’s going to tear it off you.”

Your body trembles at his words, the pool between your legs growing wetter. You can feel yourself growing impatient, only wanting his body to press onto yours, to suffocate your.

"Zayne please, don’t make me wait any more,” you murmur as you sit up on your elbows, pressing your forehead against his. You heartbeat is quick and your rapid breaths fan across his face. 

His eyes darken at your pleas, the hazel hues appearing almost a light brown, "Fucking hell Y/N, you’re going to drive me insane.” He sits up on his knees, loosening his tie before undoing it completely and discarding it on the floor next to your bed. You bite your lip as you watch him undo the top three buttons of his shirt, his toned chest on display under it. 

Leaning back down, he presses a bruising kiss against your swollen lips. His hands wander to the thin straps of your dress, gently tugging until they slip off your shoulders, letting him tug your dress down until your breasts are exposed. His tongue against yours is unrelenting, marking every inch of your mouth as his.

Detaching himself from you, he buries his face into your neck, his cold lips incredibly soothing against your lust burned skin. You cry out when you feel his teeth softly sink into the skin of your pulsepoint, as he suckles on you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 

"Zayne,” you gasp out, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to have your mind filled with nothing but his mouth on you, "Please.”

He trails down your neck and collar, inhaling you into his lungs at every opportunity. You feel his smile against your skin as he reaches your breasts, your nipples pebbled from the lust. He voice is muffled against you, "Please what, my love?”

"I…” you’re too mortified to say the things you want him to do, so the silence overtakes you. Unhappy with your hesitation, Zayne bites into the supple flesh above your pert nipple, eliciting a string of moans and squeals from you. He’s instantly using his tongue to soothe the pain away, quickly replacing it with waves of raw pleasure. 

Zayne lifts his head, staring at you expectantly, "I can’t continue if you don’t tell me what you want.”

His unrelenting teasing drives you to the edge of madness, your arousal evident by the way it leaks through your panties and your pantyhose. But you’re stubborn, still refusing to speak. 

"Good girls listen to their doctors don’t they?” He places fleeting kisses onto your goosebump riddled areolas, careful to purposefully neglect your increasingly sensitive nipples.

"Should doctors really be this intimate with their patients?” You retort like a brat, wanting to dish back all of his incessant teasing.  

He smiles at you, thoroughly amused at your insolence, "I suppose not, but am I really just your doctor?” With that he captures your waiting nipples into his mouth. You cry out at the incredible feeling of his cold lips on your breasts but his warm tongue on your nipple, your lower body thrusting up uncontrollably into his crotch. 

He groans into your chest as you brush against his throbbing erection, restricted by the confines of his pants. Against the heat of your womanhood, Zayne hardens impossibly further, feeling like he might actually explode against the constraint. The sounds of your pleasure and your cries for him make it difficult for him to concentrate.

Switching to your other nipple, Zayne uses one hand to undo his belt, letting it fall to the ground with his tie. He undoes the button and zipper his pants, yanking them down with such feral urgency. When his cock was finally free, he broke away from your chest, hissing in relief. You look down and you’re met with the realization of why he was in so much pain. 

Zayne was large. In a way that terrified you to your very core. You could imagine that the restraint of his briefs alone would be uncomfortable, painful even, when holding something like that back. 

Zayne catches your stare and he grips your chin between his fingers, guiding you to his eyes instead, "It’ll fit baby, don’t worry.”

You fight to keep your lip from quivering, trying not to get lost in his green eyes, "Will it?”

"I'll make it fit, but first let me prepare you love,” he says Matter-of-factly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. The certainty in his voice turns you unbelievably on and you find yourself needing to please him. Your hand seeks out his erection, grasping it firmly into your fingers.

He groans at the slightest touch, knees buckling into the bed beneath you. You start with languid and deliberate strokes, feeling every vein pulse under your fingers. Your thumb finds his large engorged head, already leaking with pre cum, feeling every smooth surface of his cock under your touch. While Zayne writhes on top of you, you revel in his glorious manhood, everything about it utterly perfect and terrifying.

As you touch him, Zayne leans into the crook of your shoulder, laying claim to your sensitive neck. He marks every inch of bare skin he can find, leaving a trail of red and wet bruises in his wake. 

Your entire palm is wet with his leaking arousal, as he moans so closely into your ear. Gently, he pries your palm away from him, sitting back up onto his knees, smirking satisfyingly down at the marks he’d left, "God, I've waited so long to have you.”

You reach down to shimmy out of your pantyhose and black evening dress, leaving you in your black lace thong, naked, willing, and pliant before him. You see him gulp harshly, his eyes hazy with need, and you sit up to level with him, "So take me Zayne.”

A low growl rips from his throat, as he pushes you back onto the bed, setting your head against your wooden headboard. Zayne tortures you, kissing down your collar, your chest, your naval, and finally down the soft mound of your pelvis. 

Zayne seems almost feral as he looks at your lace covered cunt and back up at you, "Did you really wear this for him?”

"N-no,” you whine, "I wouldn't have ever l-let him. He wasn't you.”

Zayne seems somewhat placated by your response, hooking his cold fingers into the waistband, his voice a low grumble, "That’s my good girl. No one will ever see you in or out of these, but me. Right?”

Your brain fogs over as he slips your soaked panties down your legs, his breath hitching seeing the string of clear slick clinging to your cunt. 

"Fuck.” He’s lost in his stares, in absolute awe of the meal before him, carving every single perfect centimeter into his memory. You squirm under his intense stare.

"Zayne please don’t make me wait anymore,” you wine, crying out as he bends down and his lips graze the apex of your slit. 

His voice is incredibly smug, "You are so beautiful when you beg for me.” You sigh in frustration as his lips and fingers continue to just barely graze your needy body. 

"Zayne, please,” your body thrusts into his, but he holds you back down, almost impatiently.

"Behave yourself, Y/N. You can do that for me, can’t you?” His voice is full of command, making you back down instantly, shivering at the suspense of his words.

"I didn't wait this long to have you just to rush all the things I want to do to you,” he all but purrs, as his lips find your soaking slit.

The room is filled with your lewd cries as Zayne’s tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your throbbing hole. As your doctor, Zayne knew the ins and outs of your body but you never expected him to know you like this. Like his tongue was designed for nothing else but to deliver you the most unimaginable pleasure in this world. 

Zayne groans when his tongue enters you for the first time, the quivers resonating straight to your core. His nose brushes against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, the vibrations of his own lust filled grunts bringing you closer to releasing all over his skilled mouth.

Your thighs clench against his face, and you almost worry you might suffocate him. You try to pry them away from him, but he only grips them with his strong hands, bringing them closer to his face, wanting nothing more than to be yours, wholly and irrevocably.

"You taste better than I ever imagined,” he moans out, staring into your eyes from between your legs. You blush at the filth of his words and the glistening slick smeared across his lips and chin.

"Did you – ahh hah – think about me often?” You tease between the sounds that spill out of your mouth uncontrollably.

He doesn’t answer, instead capturing your entire clit into his lips, sucking in earnest. You feel his smirk as you squeal out, hands digging into the fabric of your sheets and tugging hard. His hands knead your ass as he continues to eat, positively starved.

"Z-Zayne I-I can’t take much more,” you slur, your toes curling against his sides as he goes back to spearing his tongue in and out of you, using the tip of his nose to massage your clit, inhaling the smell of your arousal into his lungs.

"Yeah? Is my girl gonna make a mess for me?” He breathes into you, his hands reaching up to toy with your nipples. You cry in response, feeling the coil in your gut tightening beyond belief, the pleasure threatening to make you explode.

"Cum into my mouth love, let me taste you,” he whispers breathlessly into your cunt, slipping his middle finger inside of you, the wet sounds of his skin pounding into yours filling the room. You come done instantly, screaming as your back arches off the bed and you release all over Zayne’s waiting mouth, hands ripping at his soft hair. 

"That’s it baby, look at you cumming from just one finger,” he muses, working you through your orgasm with just his middle finger. You let out a stream of broken moans, unable to form any words.

"Fuck you’re this tight around just one of my fingers?” He murmurs before dipping back down to devour everything you give him. 

He laps up your spend eagerly and diligently, not letting a single drop go to waste. Refusing to relent against your twitching clit, Zayne devours you until the overstimulation lights your pussy on fire. He’s always had a sweet tooth and it looks like he’s found his absolute favorite dessert, unwilling to give it up any time soon.

"Such a messy girl,” he mumbles to himself, the clear strings of arousal sticking from your wet thighs to his chin. 

Your thighs tremble at the discomfort of overstimulation, doing your best to back away from him, "Mmm Zayne, s’too sensitive. No more, please.”

He relents reluctantly, looking utterly displeased with having his treat taken away. As he sits up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans forward into you, tapping your lips with his thumb.

"Open,” he commands forcefully, bringing his soaked middle finger up to you. You part your lips obediently, welcoming the taste of you on his skin. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a deep heated moan at the feel of your tongue on him, tasting everything he got to taste. His cock literally felt like a ton of bricks needing to be pleased. 

Releasing his finger, you reach for his length again, "I-I want to make you feel good too.” 

Zayne presses his cold lips to yours, simultaneously undoing the buttons of his shirt. He pulls aways to shrug the clothing off his broad shoulders, giving you an eyeful of his glorious physique. He shivers, letting you jerk his erection up and down, but pushing you down when you try to get on your knees before him.

"Next time. We have all the time in the world,” he whispers, pushing you against the headboard, holding your cheek in his large hand, "But right now I need to be inside you.”

The smoldering fire in his eyes makes your mouth dry, and you nod meekly. The promise of a ‘next time’ is enough to have you ready for him again. Your cunt still quivered, recovering from your previous orgasm, but pooling at the hoarse need in his tone. 

As your head lays on a pillow against the headboard of your bed, Zayne lifts you from the small of your back and shoves another pillow behind you, so that you’re elevated towards him, served on a silver platter.

"Spread your legs for me,” he growls, the urgency in his voice leaving little room to protest. And so you obey, widening your legs for him, watching as he admires the area between your thighs like it was 

His hand reaches to cup you, clit caught against his palm and fingers toying with your hole, "Who does this belong to?” 

But you can’t hear him through the searing pleasure of his touch against your over sensitive body, the blood pounding in your ears like drums. Looking at where his hand meets your body, you cry out at his ministrations against you, your thighs trembling in shivers. 

With his free hand Zayne grabs your chin, slipping his thumb into your mouth, harshly forcing your eyes to his, "Don’t look away. Be a good girl and answer me.”

Although his words are driven with lust, they remind you of the emotional turmoil you’d been weathering because of your feelings for the man in front of you.

"M’yours Zayne, always been yours,” tears well in your eyes and you hope he can understand the weight behind your words, behind all the lust and arousal filled craze. 

Zayne stares back at you, and his eyes hold an entire galaxy of emotions that match the colors of his irises: desire, devotion, awe…and love. 

"And I am yours,” his words strike your heart and you lean up to slot your mouth against his. As he kisses you, he lines up his thick length with your cunt, teasing your clit with his engorged tip, his pre cum mixing with your spend that still leaked out from your prior climax. You cried into his open mouth at his teases, your back arching off the pillow and further into his cock. At your movement, his head catches onto your throbbing and waiting hole, eliciting a deep grunt from him. 

He pulls away, groaning, "So impatient, you want it that bad?” You whimper, burying your face into his neck and latching onto his pulse point to save yourself from having to answer. 

"P-please…” you whisper into his ear. He groans, fishing through the pocket of his pants as he pulls them off of his legs. 

"Please what, love?” He smirks at you, pulling his wallet out, now just in his briefs pulled down to let his massive erection free. 

You gulp, staring at the way he stands so proudly against his naval, reaching comfortably to his belly button. His girth rivals that of at least three of your fingers.

The rustling of plastic snaps you out of your shameless ogling. Zayne places a condom packet between his teeth, tearing it with one hand. You gulp at the sight of him, but you protest, "I–i um,” you clear your throat, trying to work up the courage to vocalize what you want, "You don’t have to use that.”

Zayne’s dark eyes catch yours, and the edge in his voice is dangerous, a warning, "Don’t tempt me. I need to protect you.”

Your face burns as you try again., "W-what I mean is, well as my doctor you know I'm clean.” You do your best to stop your voice from wavering, "And I-I um I'm on the pill.”

Zayne’s eyebrows quirk as his irises darken with heat, "How come I didn't know that?

"I’ve been using an online service for a few months,” you say sheepishly, "S-so you don’t have to use that.”

Zayne catches on, a satisfied smirk gracing his features, "Is that so?” He teases his entire length on your slit, practically fucking you along the lips of your womanhood. Using his swollen tip, he taps your clit forcefully, eliciting a throaty yelp from you.

"Tell me what you want.” You shiver at the pure feral domineer in his voice.

"P-please Zayne, I want it. I need it.”

"What do you need baby?” 

You groan in frustration, but give into his demands, "I-I need you Zayne, need you inside. Need it so bad.” The way you can see his breath hitch in his throat fills you with confidence, so you lean closer until your bottom lip brushes against his, "Need to feel you inside, please Zayne.”

His jaw locks as he grits out forcefully, "I will give you everything.”

Zayne holds his cock with one hand, lining it up with your entrance. His other hand grips the wooden beams of your bed frame, "Can you take it Y/N?”

If you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure you can. Though you weren’t a virgin, you had never even seen a man so large, let alone attempted. But at Zayne’s expectant expression, you nod eagerly, "Y-yes I can, I-I can try.”

"Good girl,” he mutters, before sinking himself into you. The stretch is so much worse than you imagined it would be, practically splitting you in half. You squealed, clawing at his biceps as he did his best to enter you. Feeling so incredibly stuffed, you look down only to see he’s barely just gotten his tip inside.

The vein in Zayne’s forehead throbs as his jaw slackens, a string of swears leaving his lips, "Jesus you’re like a vice down there. I need you to loosen up love, or else I'll never be able to get inside.”

You pant against him, not knowing what to do but to watch the way he stares intently at your tummy. The heat and desire in his expression arouses you beyond belief, and you unconsciously squeeze your velvet walls in excitement. 

Zayne’s knuckles turn white as he grips the headboard for support, the veins in his forearms bulging as he groans out, "Fuck baby please. Are you trying to squeeze it off?”

"Sorry, m’sorry. S’too big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders for support. The stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt, and you don’t know if you can take much more than what’s already inside you. "Z-Zayne it’s too big I c-can’t,” you pant, doing your best to relax and loosen up your muscles. 

"You can, you’re doing so good for me Y/N,” Zayne huffs out, pushing deeper into you, the slick from your forming arousal and his pre cum starting to make the stretch easier. The drag of his cock against your gummy walls starts to feel so torturously delicious, like your body was made to take him in. 

Finally, he eases into you, eyes unable to look away from where your bodies connected.

"If you could see how – hah – beautiful you look like this, spread out for me,” he grunts, being as gentle as he can manage, when all he wanted was to ram into your warm and tight cunt, squeezing him so tightly. 

"Been waiting for the day I could – shit – finally be inside you. Drove me fucking insane thinking about you and Matthew.”

His words are enough to have you leaking all over your joined bodies, the slick dampening his pelvis and your thighs. As he seats himself in you as deeply as he can, his tip brushing against your womb, he lets out a shaky breath of ecstasy.

"Is this what you – hah – thought about? When you were with another man?” His words are claiming, making butterflies explode in your gut and your cunt to flutter around him. You can only moan and drool as his body thuds into yours, over and over. 

"Sweetest little princess cunt I've ever felt,” he swears, languidly withdrawing from you before pushing back in, knocking the breath out of you. With your head leaning against the back of your bed frame you can see every second of his glistening length burrowing in and out of you, like it absolutely owned you. 

"Z-Zayne,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders, "Please.” You don’t know exactly what you’re begging for, but you can’t stop the words from coming. 

"Hah, if you want something you have to – fuck – ask for it love,” he pants, doing his best not to get lost in the pure pleasure of finally getting to be inside you.

His words send you reeling, the ecstasy increasing with each deliberate and hard drag. You fight through the fucked out haze, vision blurred from your hooded lids, "Hah - harder please.”

At your request Zayne stutters for a brief second, your cunt squeezing so tight he could barely move, "Anything for you.” 

With his hand clutching the frame, he uses his other hand to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit. His pelvis smacks against your thighs and ass so hard that the bed posts knock into the wall repeatedly, the skin slapping sounds mixing with the sounds of the wood against the plaster. 

At the added stimulation your eyes roll into your brain, your eyelids weighing down heavily. Zayne leans in until his chest presses against your breasts, your breaths heaving in tandem. His eyes follow yours, forcing you to hold eye contact with every deep thrust into your soul. Against your will, your eyelids flutter as the pleasure starts to overcome your fighting consciousness.

You can vaguely make out Zayne’s smirk, as his hand leaves the frame to cup your chin in his palm, "Don’t tell me you’re already worn out, love.” His fingers flick against your clit.

You yelp out, nails digging into his back with one hand while the other hand smacks his shoulder gently. You pout, "You’re so mean to me.”

He leans down to kiss your shoulder, his pace never faltering. He chuckles against your skin, "But you can take it, right? You always take me so well.” The double meaning of his words makes you clench in excitement, the praise making your chest tighten.

He groans as you clench down onto him, threatening to make him blow, "Hah so fucking tight. You like that huh baby? You like it when I praise you?” He thumbs your clit with more intensity, wanting to see you come absolutely undone for him.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, nodding eagerly in response to his words. Zayne’s thrusts only grow in intensity, as if he’s trying to reach your esophagus from your cunt. You’re a mess of uncontrollable moans and mewls, unable to stop your eyes from rolling back and your tongue from hanging out as he fucked you into oblivion.

"Look at you,” he grins arrogantly, voice husky with desire and raw possessiveness, "Going on a date with my intern just to end up with my cock stuffed in you.”

You whine at his words, simultaneously not wanting to think about Matthew but also being so turned on by the dominating undertone of his words. His fingers abandon your clit, much to your disappointment, to trace the bulge his cock makes in your tummy. His other hand pulls your chin down so you can watch him.

"Look how deep I am, love,” he grunts. You watch in awe as the small bump in your stomach  bulges and disappears with the rhythm of Zayne’s thrusts. With every withdrawal, Zayne’s impressive cock glistens with slick, the throbbing veins bulging enough to make you drool. Absolutely entranced, you fit your hand under his to stroke at his cock as it pushed through your tummy.

Zayne swears as you caress his cock through the bump in your tummy, throwing his head back to catch his breath. His hand goes back to paw at your clit, trying to stop himself from blowing his load into you right there.  

As the climax builds in your gut, you throb around his impossibly hardened length spearing in and out of you, to which he twitches inside of you. The sounds of your combined whimpers and grunts, the lewd smacks of his damp slick dampened skin against yours, and the bed slamming against the wall overwhelm your brain until you can only think about Zayne, his cock inside you, and the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

"Zayne, I-I’m close,” you cry, hand abandoning your stomach to loop around his neck, digging your nails into his damp skin.

"Fuck – I know love, I can feel you trying to squeeze it out of me,” he grunts, body slamming into yours so hard that your body smacks against the headboard.

"I’m gonna – gonna cum,” you cry, nails digging into the taut muscles of his back.

"No,” he demands, and you do your best not to gape at him. He gasps through his next strokes, "Be a good girl and wait for me. I want to feel you finish all over me when I cum inside you.”

"O-okay,” you say, but you’re honestly unsure if you’ll be able to wait, the waves of pleasure crashing into you so roughly it threatens to overtake you right then and there.

"That’s my girl,” gripping your chin, Zayne leans in to kiss you again, his tongue claiming your warm and waiting mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut and your body tenses as you try to quell the raging tides of the impending climax, moaning endlessly into Zayne’s mouth.

You pull away to breathe, your lungs needing as much oxygen as possible to withstand the ecstasy. Zayne’s hand grips the wooden beams above your bed again, his knuckles turning white as he watches the pleasure contort your beautiful face. 

"I-I can’t – ”

"You can, baby. I’m – hah – almost there, just hold on a little longer for me,” he grunts. The pleasure and pain of his edging threatens to knock you unconscious, but you nod and throw your head back as your eyes roll backwards again.

Through your fucked out haze you can vaguely see a strange icy sheen forming on the wooden beams of your bed’s headboard. You follow the path of luminous crystals and realize they’re forming from Zayne’s hand that grips against the frame so tightly his knuckles are pale and taut, as he comes closer to exploding inside you. 

Unable to shake yourself out of the pleasure, you can’t find the words to warn Zayne. You continue to watch in awe as the beautiful iridescent flakes frost over the dull old wood. His palm is covered in a layer of snow white frost, the tiny snowflakes dancing around his skin as it grips the furniture so forcefully. You realize he’s losing control of his evol, because of you. And the idea of that threatens to push you head first into your second orgasm of the night.

It happened so fast. As Zayne bullies himself in and out of you, thrusting as if his life depended on it, the wooden beams of your headboard cracks in his hand, the wood turning brittle against his icy evol, and shattering under the force of his bruising grip. 

Zayne shields your body with his own as frozen wooden splinters fly everywhere, his thrusts stuttering as the sound of cracking wood pierces the air. You can tell he’s scared, constantly worried about losing control of his evol around you like this. His hands clasp together, massaging his wrists and trying to calm the unpredictable storm of his evol. You can feel him about to pull away, to get away from you and keep you safe.

You hug him close to you as he tries to pull away not wanting him to stop, not caring the least bit about the splintering wood falling into your hair. The worry and disgust with himself is evident in his eyes, and it tears at your heart so you do your best to comfort him, "S’okay Zayne, it’s not a big deal, I promise.”

But his eyes are far away, thick with emotions that make your chest lurch. You hold his face in  your hands trying to get him to look at you and not the splintered mess of furniture above you. You lock your knees around his waist. "Zayne baby,” you soothe gently, "Look at me. Look at me please.”

His frantic eyes meet yours under the guidance of your palms. You watch as the storm in his eyes calms down ever so slightly when they meet yours. You brush your thumb against his cheek, whispering, "Don’t stop, please. M’so close. I need you.” 

But Zayne is hesitant, only filled with worry for you, his thrusts halting altogether but still thick and solid in you. His jaw clenches down, "Did I hurt you?”

"Not at all,” you reassure, hand stroking his anguish laced face, "I don’t care, please make me cum Zayne, want to cum for you s’bad.”

Zayne continues his thrusts slowly, trying to shake away his anger at himself, "Hah – I'm so sorry Y/N, I'll buy you a new one, okay?”

"Y-yes whatever you want, but please just fuck me,” you plead, not wanting your climax to slip through your fingers, "Please don’t stop.” 

Your begging is enough to have Zayne going feral again, slowly regaining the vigor in his thrusts. His hand dusts the wooden fragments away from your hair. Your head sinks deep into the pillow, and falls back to peer at the gaping hole in your bed frame, slightly in awe of his sheer primal strength. It honestly turned you on unbelievably, edging you closer and closer. 

"Zayne I c-can’t wait anymore, m’sorry m’cumming,” you wail, your nails digging through his back as the ecstasy explodes in your body, from the tips of your curled toes to your fucked out brain. Your walls flex against Zayne’s vigorous thrusts as he continues to chase his own high, briefly forgetting about the furniture he’d ruined in his brief slip of control. 

Your eyes pull away from the snowflakes melting on the splintered headboard and fixate on Zayne’s eyes as your vision spots with fireworks, his cock pistoning in and out of you relentlessly. 

He lifts your thighs up until they press against his chest, your muscles aching in protest. Your ankles rest on his shoulders as he drives himself into your guts at this angle. He leans down and your body screams at the stretch in your muscles but he hits you so deeply like this you can’t feel anything but pleasure. He hits your g spot at every thrust, your body barely recovering from the previous orgasm as he steers you straight into another. 

"Sh-shit,” he groans, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours, "Squeezing me so fucking tight, are you trying to milk me? If you keep clenching down like that I'm gonna – fuck!” He swears at your nails digging into his broad back, dragging deep scratches into him as he fucks you roughly through the pleasure. 

"P-please Zayne I want to feel you,” you cry, "Cum inside me, please.” As Zayne pounds into you with no semblance of mercy, stars blur your vision, your body doing your best to accommodate him and the endless waves of overwhelming ecstasy. Your wet release splashes against your skin with every thrust of his hard muscular body. 

"F-fuck I'm gonna cum so deep inside you baby,” he groans with his eyes intently staring into yours, "This pussy is all mine.”

"You’re mine,” his voice is intense, a primal growl of urge and possessiveness, claiming you as his with both words and with his body. He bends back down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss into you, tongue intertwining with yours needily. Both his hands threads through your hair, tugging gently as he rocks into you. He groans into your mouth, body shuddering as he finally releases into you.

Zayne rips away from your lips to rock onto his knees before you and carry you onto his lap, wanting to be able to hold you as close as possible as he emptied rope after rope inside of you. The angle allowed him to literally fuck his spend up into you. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands around his neck, unable to even squeal at the sudden movement, only able to drool out against the crook of his neck. 

His spend is so deliciously hot inside of you, as your pussy quivers at the warmth, squeezing him even more. He forces his tongue into you again, wanting to be attached to you in every way as he pumps every thick rope into your waiting womb. As he tugs on your bottom lip, body still pressed on top of your legs, cock hitting your sweetest spots, you release all over him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your cunt pulsates uncontrollably, pulling more and more of his essence into you. Zayne’s thick muscles shake under you, the waves of his orgasm rocking his entire body into yours.  

You pant as his bounces slow, his unending stamina finally coming to a halt as his sweaty chest heaves against your trembling breasts. He presses gentle kisses to the deep hickeys he’d marked onto your skin, using his broad hands to caress your bruise splotched throat.

The sound of satisfied pants and soft moans blankets the two of you as you snuggle into him, never wanting this moment of post sex bliss to end. Your collective spend begins to leak down onto Zayne’s lap, your poor cunt physically unable to hold the copious amount of spend inside of you. 

As his member softens it begins to slip out of you uncomfortably, so you squeeze in an effort to keep him in you as long as physically possible. 

Zayne swears, his eyes heated and his gentle grip on your throat tightening just slightly, as he warns you darkly, "Behave. Unless you want me to take you again.”

And though the idea of him bringing you to orgasm again, and many times after, sounds like heaven on earth, you don’t think your poor cunt can possibly handle any more pleasure for tonight. He chuckles when you ease up, stroking the curvature of your naked spine with his icy fingers. 

"I’m sorry about your bed, my love,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, falling softly backwards onto the bed and guiding you down with him until you rested on top of his hard muscular body, his softening erection still nuzzled deep inside you. He’s careful to lay the two of your joined bodies away from the destroyed headboard, holding your head protectively against his chest.  "I will buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

His free hand roams every inch of your body, from twirling the strands of your hair to gripping the supple flesh of your rear. 

"S’okay Zayne, it’s not necessary,” you murmur sleepily, tracing the contours of his taut muscles, "I don’t need a new frame.” Honestly the idea of Zayne breaking your bed in pure primal lust was enough to have the heat collecting back in between your thighs. 

"I would rather you take me on a date,” you smile into his skin, "Since you ruined the one I had today.”

Zayne chuckles, the sound so warm and beautiful to your ears you think you might melt right into his solid frame, "I suppose I did. Will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

You lean up so that your chin rests on his chest and you can peer at him through your lashes, giving him your best begging face, "Only if you beg.” 

He looks up at you, the amused lopsided smile on his face just begging to be wiped off, "Please? Let me take you to dinner.” He lifts your chin off his chest with his index finger, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He smirks when you shiver at his fleeting touch, watching you bend to his very will.

"And then after…” he trails off, fingers leaving your face to trace against the side of your exposed breasts, and up to your hard nipples. You bite your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of moaning out. 

As he incessantly fiddles with your skin, you finish his thought with a joke, "After you can come destroy my new bed frame too.”

Zayne’s eyes darken with mischief and amusement, "You shouldn't write checks your body can’t cash, my love.”

The filthy promise in his words coupled with his cold fingers pressed deliciously into your pebbled peaks rip the whimper you’d been holding back out of your lips, your cunt clenching in anticipation despite your crippling exhaustion.

But it seems Zayne knows your body as well as you do. "But for tonight, just sleep,” he mumbles into the top of your head, pressing his lips into your hair. 

"Mmm stay here with me, please,” you murmur into his chest, letting the sleep take root in your pleasure numbed mind. 

"I'll be here when you wake up,” he reassures, his voice falling deeper and rougher with exhaustion and hands shifting to cover your bodies with your comforter. His hands then wrap around your waist, holding your body against this, as if scared you’d disappear from his arms. "I won’t ever leave you.” 

Your heart flutters as the unconsciousness claims you. "G’night Zayne,” you mumble, kissing his chest.

"Good night my love.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[vixensofsorrow]

Demolition Lovers - Ⅰ you touch me once again and somehow it stings cause i know it is the end

DISCLAIMER: This fic is a long slowburn with multiple chapters, still being updated. also on AO3 my masterlist (all the chapters are linked there) PAIRING: young!Carol Denning/fem!reader OVERALL SUMMARY: An exploration of your and Carol's relationship through the years. CHAPTER SUMMARY: You and Carol reunite after a long time apart. CHAPTER TAGS: angst, fluff, friendship, complicated feelings, reader plays soccer, high school, developing relationship A/N: no clue how to add footnotes on tumblr but Engie is a Nickname for Engine Room, which central midfielders are often described as. also english isn't my native language so mb for any mistakes. im just a desperate lesbian in a world with not enough carol x reader insert fanfiction

“Carol! Carol, slow down!” You panted, quickly trying to sneak in shallow breaths in between your pleadings.

“I told you already, we don’t have much time!” She spoke up ominously, not even turning her head around to look at you, just focusing on running straight ahead with slight twists and turns here and there, still holding your sweaty hand tightly. She guided the both of you through the humid, pine scented, and slightly foggy forest of a small, West Virginia mill town where somewhere, underneath all the trees’ crowns, your hiding spot was.

“I see it!” Carol exclaimed, using her lungs' full potential. She briefly turned her head to take a short glimpse at your breathless and distraught self, your only reply was a slight smile of relief.

The two of you finally reached your destination. You immediately slid down the huge pine tree with your and Carol’s initials, a bunch of silly stick men and other drawings messily carved into the trunk, finally able to take a proper, deep breath.

Carol was still pacing around, hands fidgeting, occasionally tapping her foot like she was in distress, or anticipating something bad — those weren’t the signs that particularly worried your 8-year-old self, though. Upon further reflection, you recognized the pacing around as something to be concerned about, because your older sister would do the same thing whenever something unpleasant happened. What was most noticeable was her sudden change in mood, from running maniacally, smiling, to shutting down. Maybe it could’ve been from exhaustion? Why didn’t she just sit down then? You pondered.

You looked up at her, at the same time as she was looking down and when your eyes met, you were sure that something was indeed wrong. The look Carol gave you was dull, like she was trying to detach herself from whatever was happening. As your eyes locked, Denning’s began glistening, and she was clearly trying to hold back weeping by plastering a fake grin, with no success. She pulled up her glasses to wipe the tears away with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Care, what’s wrong?” You stood up, not even brushing the dirt off of your corduroy overalls, then taking Carol’s hands in yours. There was no way you could stop her crying now, and some teardrops fell on the back of your palms.

“You can tell me.” You added softly, furrowing your brows in a confused, yet clearly worried manner. You spoke with the intent of reassuring Carol that in this exact moment, the both of you were safe and sound in each other's presence and no one would be able to hurt you.

You weren’t breaking eye contact for even a second.

“Mom… Well….” At this point, Carol’s tears transformed into a full on stream, her vision turning blurry. “Not mom… I mean probably but…” Carol stuttered. She attempted to collect herself before continuing, sniffling.

“Barb… she told me that we are going to Illinois…” She tightened her grip, almost digging her nails into your hands, fully breaking down.

She was being serious about this.

Carol couldn’t hide it anymore, and even if she tried you could see everything written all over her puffy, red face. You were startled, almost frozen in place, the only sensation you felt being the occasional gust of wind and Carol squeezing your palms more and more with every second that passed by. You weren’t sure why, but it was somehow pleasant, reminding you that both of you are still alive and breathing. In this moment of silence, only broken by you sniffling and Carol gasping for air, everything hit you all at once.

The Denning's were moving out. Carol was moving out. Your best friend was moving out.

You tried to keep your cool as best as you could, so as to not upset her even more — you knew she didn’t like pity. Your attempt was unsuccessful, and you could feel your lips quivering.

Care threw herself into your arms and hugged you so tightly like she never did before, laying her head down on your shoulder. You took this as a chance to bawl your eyes out, hugging her back.

“You’re my best friend… And this may be the last time I'm going to see you.” She stuttered through the tears. After a moment of silence, you slowly let go of Carol, the both of you looking like a mess. Her hair was stuck to her sweaty, wet face, eyes puffy as if she had an allergic reaction, meanwhile your runny nose and bloodshot eyes made you look like you were ill, and you certainly felt like it.

“I’ll wait for you.” Your voice cracked, and you were frantically digging through the pockets of your jacket, eventually pulling out a jawbreaker candy and handing it to Carol.

Both of you smiled through the tears as she took the candy and hugged you for the last time in years.

The gym, covered with school representative dark blue and yellow banners, or posters with cheesy motivational quotes plastered on the beige walls, echoed with the principal asking something along the lines of “Is everyone excited!?”. Shockingly, a few people actually were, and rather loudly too.

He went on to boast about the many achievements of the school, about how great we all are, almost starting an inspirational speech. Before he could go on further, the more empathetic vice principal cut him off. “Let’s welcome MHS Band!”

“God damn, why does this shit always take ages?” The defender complained, slamming her locker over the sound of trumpets and drums in the distance. Someone from the team chuckled at the question. Other girls were spraying their hair, fixing their makeup, changing into uniform and whatnot.

“It always takes this long. You oughta get used to it.” Veronica walked up to Jennifer, who was painting little scorpions on the team members’ cheeks, to get hers done.

Tonya narrowed her eyes. “Well, yeah, but it doesn’t make it less annoying.”

The band went quiet, and the cheerleaders took over to the sound of Voulez-Vous by ABBA. “I can’t believe people actually listen to this European disco shit.” Rachel scoffed, and Veronica started singing it off-key incoherently just to piss her off, dancing with her hands, swaying to the rhythm of the bass boosted by the schools’ speaker's song.

She forgot she was getting her face painted and swung her head around to elevate her performance, which caused Jennifer to slip her hand and draw a straight line across her face.

“Ronica! Take a chill pill!” The attacking-midfielder rolled her eyes and let Jennifer clean up the mess, sneaking in a quiet “Sorry.” The team captain reflected, “Also, it’s not that bad. At least they used a song that’s not, like, 50 years old.” The goalkeeper raised an eyebrow in approval after giving it some thought.

“Ronica’s singing is, though.” You cut in and the teammates that could hear you over the loud music laughed.

“You wouldn’t know good singing if it hit you in the face!” Your friend defended herself, continuing the back and forth teasing for a while.

The team's striker finished painting the midfielder’s face and peeked out of the locker room to see what was going on in the gym. The cheerleaders were packing up their routine with a round of applause, and the scorpion school mascot ran out of the boys’ locker room.

You and Rachel were on your way to the mirrors, as you passed by you had a look at the slightly dirty, grody, blue, fluffy mascot and a chill went down your spine.

“Fucking hell man, that thing gives me the creeps.” You turned your attention to Jennifer and the goalkeeper, the latter tilting her head to get a better look. “Yeah… yeah, I see where you’re coming from.” She raised her upper lip and wrinkled her nose.

As the three of you were staring at what was going down at the pep rally, the principal spoke up again.

“And now… For the team that needs no introduction…” The whole group had gathered now. “…Let’s make some noise for the Regionals Girls’ Soccer Team Champions, go Scorpions!” He stretched out the “go” until the A/V kid put on Call Me by Blondie.

Students were crammed into the wooden bleachers, showing all the varieties of enthusiasm you'd expect from a required school event. The other jocks' encouraging yells, the burnouts' eye rolls, and everything in between.

The first moments were always awkward, since, well, not many people were that excited about a girls’ soccer team. The girls’ boyfriends and friends would start chanting, pumping their fists for all they’re worth, which usually worked in hyping up the rest of the school. As the applause built up and feet rumbled against the bleachers, you all jogged onto the court, with the beat-up school mascot jumping around and high-fiving the front row.

The whole team stood in a straight line, Jennifer put on an act of excitement, smiling triumphantly and waving. You didn’t like pep rallies very much, but honestly, most of the school didn’t either. The principal began announcing a speech about your success at the Regionals, but you drowned him out with irrelevant thoughts. “At least this is better than going to Biology…”

Your eyes lingered around the gym, recalling a pep talk from your coach about how you should always hold your head up, so you don’t come off as uninterested or ignorant.

You turned your attention from the banners to the bleachers, looking out for some interesting action. Maybe a kid kicking someone in the back and then pretending that it wasn’t them, a couple making out, just anything to make time pass faster.

As your eyes wandered, you noticed a new face in the midst of the crowd, squinting to get a better look. She looked familiar, but you couldn’t exactly make out her features since she was focused on rummaging through her bag.

You looked away for a moment, continuing the search.

Who knows, possibly it was just your mind playing tricks on you, and it wasn’t anyone new but a classmate who just got a new haircut.

Something felt off, though. You felt a weird sensation, like someone was directly staring at you — normally, you would've just brushed it off, but this was prolonged staring, the kind that made you uncomfortable.

You searched for the culprit amongst the crowd, and you immediately locked eyes when you found her. You were right; there was a new addition to your high school, and you knew why she looked familiar. You’d recognize that gaze anywhere.

Your face went pale, eyes widened, and your whole body stiffened, unable to form a single thought. Everything went silent, and your ears were ringing. From what you could see, Carol was just as shocked, only moving her hand ever so slightly to pull up her glasses.

You could make out clapping in the background, muted by your shock, and out of the corner of your eye see teammates acting all buddy-buddy, like all of you would always do at the end of every pep rally to raise “team spirit”.

It didn’t register that it was time to pack up until Gina nudged you, and you snapped back to reality.

“Yo, it’s time to go L/N.” She reminded you, immediately running to catch up to the other girls, while you just stood there for one more second before also sprinting to the locker room.

You stormed in, squeezing through the crowd to get to the bathroom, and you slammed the cabin door. You sat down on the closed toilet lid and grabbed the roots of your hair in distress, glancing at your feet.

You were confused as to what you were feeling; you were happy because your childhood best friend is back, but also shocked and nervous because, what if Carol isn’t the same person anymore? It makes sense; it’s been, what, 7 years since you last saw each other? It’s only reasonable that she changed, but you were afraid of the possibility of Carol and you not getting along anymore. Fuck.

You missed her greatly. You used to call each other, but only for the first few years after she moved out, when you were still kids. You recalled that one time, on a random evening after not hearing from Carol after a while, you rang the phone, but no one answered. Then, you called again. Almost every day for a month, until a high-pitched, squeaky female voice answered one day to tell you that the previous tenants had moved out.

Back then, it hurt. It hurt a lot, but you got over it with time. Still, the thought of carving “Y/N and Carol BFFS 4 EVER” into a tree with a pocket knife that Denning snatched from her dad, just one last time, lingered around.

You were torn apart; should you come up to her in hopes of becoming close again, and risk the pain of losing her again, or just pretend she doesn’t exist? After giving it more thought, it would be impossible to avoid her without it being awkward after the staring contest that just happened. “Fuck this.” You gave up, and opened the cabin door, just to be greeted by Veronica with her arms crossed.

“So, what’s eating you, Engie? 1” You jumped, and your heart sped up for a second.

“Fuck off! You made me spazz out!” Your brows furrowed, and you let out an exasperated sigh, walking away without an answer to change out of your uniform.

‘Ronica just threw her hands up in the air in annoyance, “That’s what I get for trying to be a supportive friend.” she mumbled. In some moments, the girls’ locker room wasn’t the most pleasant environment to be in.

You didn’t mean to blow up at Veronica like that, thinking about it, you probably could've used a piece of advice, a shoulder to lean on.

You packed up your bag, shut your locker and went to the mirrors to wash off the little scorpion on your cheek.

The attacking midfielder was leaning on the sink, listening to Rachel, Jennifer, and Nicole talking about a get-together to celebrate your success.

“Can we be civilized now?” She turned to look at you and fixed her hair.

“Yeah, you bet…” you smiled, “… I didn’t mean to explode at you like that.”

“It’s whatever, now, onto other, more important manners.” Vee joined in on the conversation about the party, as you picked at your face. School was out for today, so you could linger around until the janitor would make you leave.

Jennifer announced the gathering before anyone could leave, so that none of you would have an excuse not to go. Most of the time, she didn't care about your team interacting, which isn’t the best trait for a captain, but you all got along rather quite well (for hormonal, teenage girls), so she didn’t really bother with it. She must’ve been really excited about going to the State Championships.

As you said your goodbye’s and were about to leave, the striker stopped you. “L/N, I very much expect to see you there, and remember, no excuses!” Jennie mimicked your coach and you both laughed.

Still, what went down earlier today wouldn’t leave your mind. Your duffle bag was hitting your hips as you passed by the front of the school. You saw Vee sitting down on the benches by herself, and decided that you do need to talk about Carol. She scooted, you took a seat, and lit up a cigarette.

You were afraid of starting the conversation, and Veronica sensed that. “So, what fucked your day up, then?”

You took a drag. “You remember how I talked about that childhood friend of mine?”

“I think so?” She gesticulated and you passed her the cigarette. “Her name starts with C, right?”

“Yeah, Carol…” You hear your friend whisper a quiet “Ohhh, yeah, yeah.”

You continued. “… She was at the pep rally today.” As Veronica was about to put the cancer stick to her lips, she dropped her jaw and raised her eyebrows. “You serious?”

“Deadly serious, fortunately or unfortunately. I’ve got no clue what to do, ‘Vee.” You bounced your leg and nibbled on the inside of your lip. “Should I come up to her or something? I can’t even ignore her after the fuckin’ staring contest we had.” Ronica, once again, handed the cigarette back to you and you took another drag.

“Well, I think only Mother Theresa could help you with that.” She tried to joke as an attempt of lighting up the mood, but only got a stern look of disapproval from you.

“Okay um, well. Maybe wait until she comes up to you…” Vee thought more about her answer. “…and then you’ll know that she also wants to talk or something, reconnect, whatever… And I guess if she doesn’t, and you still miss her, you could make the first move?” Her voice went up an octave in uncertainty.

“That’s actually some solid advice, thanks, ‘Ronica.” You smiled at her, and she threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. “No prob.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, only broken by chatter of other students, Vee reminding you to put out the cig, and cars speeding by. A beige, 1978 Cougar honked with your friends’ dad in the driver's seat. You said your goodbyes, and after Veronica left, you picked up your duffle bag and walked off in the direction of the school bus stop.

You closed your eyes and leaned against a tree, massaging your temples, trying to reduce the tension and stress that built up over the course of the day. You heard someone flickering a lighter, and you slowly opened your eyes in curiosity.

“Who would’ve thought you’d end up as a fuckin’ jock?” She stopped playing with the lighter, which was clearly a ploy to get your attention. “I mean, you could barely run half a mile without getting outta breath back when we were kids.” A way too familiar voice teased with a big, genuine smile.

[mayalaen]

as a person who wants to write spanking stories but is afraid to get it wrong... please infodump all you like 💖

I have some great advice for you:

do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do it - do eeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeet!! 🥳

No seriously! Ask any spanko writer and they'll probably give you the same answer! Well okay maybe not the exact same, but they're definitely gonna excitedly encourage you to join in!

That's where all of us started - worried we'd get it wrong or readers wouldn't like it.

Even those among us in the BDSM lifestyle who actually do the things we write about struggle with it because it's not fanfic mainstream and when posting writing like that it doesn't feel like you're just dipping your toe into the water. It feels like you're jumping in, and it can be hard to just do it!

My biggest sources of encouragement and validation have come from communities and friends even before Discord and AO3 were a thing.

If you can, I'd really recommend joining the Discord servers I linked the other day. They're safe spaces to talk about discipline fic, bounce ideas, ask questions, post your own snippets (and get enthusiastic support for those snippets), read other writer's snippets, and make friends who have a common interest.

There used to be a lot more spanko fics and writers on Tumblr, but the p0rn purge a few years back ran a bunch of them off, and it seems that they've resettled on Discord.

I don't recommend going to Twitter with spanko fic, and if there's a dfic community on Bluesky or Pillowfort I haven't found them.

Posting snippets of your own in a dfic community can really get you over that hump of being afraid about your own fic.

They're super supportive, awesome cheerleaders, and there's experience levels of all kinds there so don't worry that you'll be the least experienced one there!

My last bit of advice on this is to read dfic even in fandoms you're not a part of. As you're reading, you'll figure out what you like and don't like and you'll get ideas.

But you'll also see that what writers are doing is just writing what they want to! It's kinda hard to get something "wrong" that's so personal and varied.

Even in the BDSM community, there's styles, practices, and plenty of other things that mean one spanko doesn't vibe with plenty of other spankos. That's why talking about things and getting to know people is so important before play.

There's no one right way to do it no matter what anybody tells you.

I've read dfics over the years where I flat out said NOPE I would never do this and I don't agree with it, but it doesn't matter! We're all just having a good time and writing is all fiction anyway!

Also as a quick warning, be ready for people to have a problem with dfic. Writers who have been doing this for years are used to it and we all have our own ways of dealing with the trolls, but people can be nasty.

My response is none at all. Nasty asks and comments get deleted immediately, nasty DMs get blocked, because we're all here for fun and fiction and those people can just go fuck themselves.

The most common troll comment I get is "those characters wouldn't do that" followed by all the reasons why and how awful I am for writing such disgusting things.

Those always make me chuckle because it's just a toddler mad that someone is playing with the toys in a way they don't like.

The second most common comments I get are from people who just search for spanking keywords, don't bother reading the fic, and spew hate. As soon as I see the first few words on those, I delete. If possible, I block as well.

There's no need for that behavior.

And there's no need for your regular readers (if you already have them in non-spanko fic) to give you nasty shit either just because you're exploring something you're interested in.

I mean seriously - look at it for what it is! It's bratty toddler behavior! And an adult behaving like a toddler to a spanko is a really bad decision because it only makes me wanna spank brats more 😈

[ellstersmash]

Hi all! I know how easy it is for great fics to get lost to time and buried on Ao3 by a mountain of newer or more highly viewed/kudo'ed/commented-on ones—especially in a fandom as large and active as Dragon Age. So this is my weekly-ish event where I dig up a few of them to read and then tell y'all what I've found!

☼

someday, someday

Morrigan/Mahariel* & Alistair/Mahariel* | wc 4,397 | by @alynshir *Different Mahariels

Reading this felt like what I imagine being hypnotized would feel like. It's kind of a stream-of-consciousness style of writing—which I know isn't everyone's thing but it is very much mine—exploring the beauty of parenthood and family and love as the great equalizer, especially for those who never expected to experience those things, and it reads like absolute POETRY. To quote the parts I loved I'd have to copy & paste the whole thing. 😭 If you love Morrigan and Alistair, please read this. You won't regret it.

☼

A Well Spun Tale

Gen | wc 1,044 | by BettyBourbon (not sure if Tumblr is linked)

Listen. If you've played DA2 you are likely familiar with the infamous Arishok duel--and it probably went the same way it went for the rest of us. This fic embraces that 😂😂 and it is so fucking funny!!

☼

Beautiful for You

Cullen/Lavellan | wc 1,536 | by @star--nymph

I mean, let's be very honest, I knew what I was walking into with Eury and Cullen. As ever, they are exactly right for each other, and as ever, Eurydice is very, very relatable. This is sweet and fluffy and romantic and beautifully written!

☼

Three Prayers to Fen'Harel

Solas/Lavellan | wc 711 | by @wizardofozymandias

Sometimes, Solavellan hell means desperately fluffy fix-its and purposefully ignoring The After by focusing on The Before. This is not one of those times. This one leans in, and with a faithful, angry Lavellan (which is SUCH a good combination). It's really painful and really beautiful.

☼

If you are a writer mentioned here and you don't want to be included for any reason, please message me and I'll take you off right away—either way, thank you for writing and sharing your work.

[thinkinginscripts]

you know, it's a strange feeling not having english as your first language but to frequently consume content in this context because most of the fanbase is part of it.

thinking in English is easy (being on tumblr for a long time helps you to get used to it) so understanding stories has never been a problem for me. but i'm starting to wonder if it doesn't mean that i don't know A & C only in this standard, with all those words that we know are always addressed to each of them, the universe and the personality that are developed over and over again. sometimes, through words that i know what they mean, but that don't exist in my language so precisely. even more often, when i feel that these identities could easily be registered in something that my language knows very well.

i know it's a silly thought, given the language that the canon is told, but i love this universe and it would be a lie to say that i don't think much about things related to it.

however, l wrote this big ass text to exchange ideas and contextualize my point, which is to ask you if you also have any particular feelings about the identities of A&C in the fanfics and canon. do you feel strange reading about both of them in a context of personality that goes far beyond what the fandom usually proposes in fanfics?

i apologize in advance for the out of nowhere question, and feel free to ignore it absolutely if you want. you had a question for me once and i know you talk a lot about fanfic reading, so i thought about passing by and sharing this thought i had. hello!

Hello, this took me a few day to respond to as i've been mulling it over. It's an interesting point you make at the start of your ask, and not one I've considered before, about distinct language. I think this is probably because English is my first language, I am actually English, and from London. So the language used to describe A&C (their features, personality and so on) is so close to my own, that I'm not conscious of it being a "distinct" register. But when I think about it, I can recognise a distinct vocabulary, even a grammar and syntax - which we read repeatedly in GO fanfiction which is part of the English language, but is subtly different when used in a GO context. And that links to your actual question - I read a lot of human AU, and there is, without doubt, a consensus developing among writers around how A&C's personalities present in human form (with some variation based on creative interpretation, and of course, some exceptions to this rule - i'm talking in for the most part).

I think it's wonderful how fans/fic writers have developed an AU 'standard' simply through discussion on here (or perhaps reddit), and through multiple fic iterations, where we have recognisable non-cannon traits we can all agree belong to either A or C.

This, in turn, has created a form of language which fans understand and agree on, which has obviously taken inspiration from cannon but it is clearly not cannon. Aziraphale's excessive use in fic, but not in cannon, of "my dear/dearest/darling/dear boy" is an obvious case in point. And as I say above, it is English, but with subtle differences in emphasis. I can think for example of the word "saunter", which when used in fic to describe Crowley feels slightly different to when I might hear the word "saunter" in everyday life.

I hadn't considered it before but it is possible that people who extend their English language skills through reading GO fanfiction might come to understand the meanings of some words slightly differently to how they are usually used in everyday English. Or they might learn vocabularly that is actually quite unusual (no one says 'scrumptious' anymore, no matter how many times you might read human Az say it).

Thankyou for asking me something i've not really reflected on before, reading as I do with my own native bias! I don't know how common it is for a fandom to develop its own non-cannon standards for AU and cannon-adjacent fics, but I do think it's wonderful we have and are still doing so, and another sign of how the GO fandom has a presence and nature intependent of its creators (which is more important than every now).

[staybabblingbaby]

SKZ x Coordi (Intro Part) a1 d3

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader is a successful makeup artist with a notorious and prolific career and no self awareness. Reader joins JYP as a part of Stray Kids' team and encounters their hazing ritual for new coordis: flirting.

Word Count: 1,178 Notes: This spawned because of my conviction that I could never get my makeup done by a professional bc I would fall in love. Getting your makeup done by someone else just feels very intimate to me (ik its not, ok, I'm just touch starved T^T). It's sort of lending itself to long one-shot style formatting, but for tumblr purposes I'm posting it in parts. Also, I think I accidentally avoided pronouns for Reader? Not sure how but I didn't see any when I was reviewing this part. Will update as I post (idk how to add emojis, just imagine a thumbs up here pls TT^TT). Needs to be edited for clarity. Warnings: None that I know of? Reader has weird self esteem but it's not bad?

Masterlist Link :D | Next Part Link <3

You're fairly sure, by the time your sunbae finishes showing you around and giving you the low-down on your new duties, that you'd gotten this job over other make-up artists because you were the safe choice. You suppose it's not an awful thing to be thought of as safe and professional. You can’t help feeling stung anyways.

You'd come to this conclusion after your sunbae, while showing you a few of the dressing rooms in the company building you'd be working in, casually drops, "oh, yeah, if you end up having relations with one of the idols, just make sure the media and management don't find out. No one else will rat you out." mid-tour.

You'd had to stop and give your sunbae the most confused and alarmed look you could manage, and when she'd seen she'd immediately laughed and made the face back at you. That made you crack, and the two of you ended up giggling together for a minute. Once you'd calmed down, she elaborated.

"It's a bit of an open secret that the unattached idols will sleep with a willing coordi every now and then," she explained "As long as management doesn't find out, and the media is entirely clueless, it's pretty much useless to try and stop it." You’d nodded along, fascinated by how similar celebrities were around the world. Sure, the cultures surrounding them were different, but there was almost always a similar sort of system when you were contracted long-term somewhere.

"Staff are pretty safe options for them, at least here at JYP.” Your sunbae had continued, “They vet our staff and stylists really well." You’d nodded again. The background check had been intensive and you’d had to sign a lot of release forms about it. It was one of the things you’d liked most about this opportunity, actually.

"Your group in particular have probably fucked at least 2 dozen coordis between them." You’d choked on air and turned to her incredulously again. What was with her and dropping bombs like this on you? It was your first day! She’d just laughed and rolled her eyes at you. "Why are you so scandalized? There's 8 of them." She reasoned, "That's, like, 3 flings a piece. Not that many." You’d conceded her point with a tilt of your head. You're sure the actual numbers aren't so even, but she had made an excellent point regardless.

"I guess that makes sense," You’d mused, "I mean, they're grown men, right? Their hands must get awful tired." That startled a laugh out of your sunbae and you’d grinned at her before you continued. "But, sunbaenim, you won't have to worry about that from me." You’d stated confidently. She’d shot you a questioning look, so you’d continued, “They’re both my clients and my coworkers under my contract. Two types of people I categorically refuse to sleep with.”

She’d laughed again, simply saying “That’s probably for the best.” and moving on with your tour. You’d let yourself be distracted by memorizing everything she was telling you and promptly forgot all about your scandalous conversation.

Despite moving on, a seed of doubt had been planted in you. You couldn’t help but think back to one of the odder questions you’d been asked when you were interviewing for this position. As an independent make-up artist you’d had to negotiate everything yourself, and at the time you’d assumed it to simply be part of their vetting process.

“What are your views on workplace relationships?” They’d asked. At the time you’d simply said you strived for friendship with both your clients and coworkers, but that you preferred professionalism over all else. Which was true, obviously, but after that conversation with your sunbae you couldn’t help but add a new context to the question.

That doubtful seed sprouted at the end of your tour, when your sunbae gave you another warning.

“Don’t mind the boys, by the way,” She’d said out of nowhere. “They’re playful, all of them, but they’ll respect a boundary to the death the moment you set it.” Once again you’d had to look at her, hopelessly confused, and you’d become pretty sure at that point that she just liked getting a reaction out of you because she snorted a laugh at whatever face you’d made and explained herself.

“I mean that they can be pretty loud and playful with both each other and staff. That includes being flirty and touchy.” she said, “I think it comes with the territory of being an idol. All that fanservice must do something to them.” She laughed, and you’d smiled along, still somewhat confused of the warning.

She must have noticed, because she elaborated further, “It can be flustering for new stylists.” She explained, and you finally started to understand, “A lot of the time it’s the first time a new stylist has been so close to an idol, you know? You have to prepare for it, like, mentally.” She made a weird gesture toward her head and you’d giggled at her antics but shook your head.

“I’ve seen so many beautiful people at this point in my life that I'm pretty sure I'm immune.” you’d declared with a chuckle. You weren’t lying either, you’d seen so many examples of so many different culture’s beauty standards you could probably write a book on it.

You’d sort of made it your career’s goal to learn as many different styles and skin and face types as you possibly could. You’d done pretty well by that goal so far, doing everything from tiny private boudoir shoots to high profile fashion shows, just about anywhere you could get to, from Cairo in Egypt, to Hollywood in California, to tiny barely-named towns all over Europe.

“Idols are different!” Your sunbae insisted, “There are hot people everywhere, but idols are built different. They’re manufactured to be desirable.”

“So are models,” you’d dismissed with a wave, “Honestly, sunbaenim, I’ll be fine. If anything, it’s the idols you should worry for.” you’d given her a saucy wink and she’d howled with laughter and clapped in delight. You’d giggled right along with her, and when you’d both calmed again, you continued. “No, but really, I’ve been told I can be quite intense when I’m focused, so maybe you should be warning the group instead.”

She’d waved you off, saying “It’ll do them some good to be humbled by someone they have no chance with.” with a devious giggle. And that had been that. The click of a conclusion sliding into place in your mind had sounded and you’d become certain that you’d been the safest of the candidates who’d applied.

It hurt, just a bit, because you’re used to being selected for your experience and ability to mimic and blend styles, not for your personal beliefs. You stave off the hurt by reminding yourself that reputation matters in this industry. If they hired you because you value your professionalism, then you’d show them exactly how professional you could be! You’d wrapped up your tour with mixed feelings and lots of determination.

[ladylynse]

Part 3 of this untitled Doctor Who fic post Waters of Mars where 10 meets up with Grace Holloway again. (Well, I say untitled, and then I realized that when I posted the first bit to tumblr, I used the working title Saving Grace when linking it in this post, so let's go with that for now, shall we? It's better than my document title.) Posted for @gentildonna.

(Previous)

The Doctor made sure he was disconnected from all the machines before he set to work starting up his second heart. It wasn’t easy, not by himself. He would’ve liked to have someone else to help him. But he doubted the hospital staff would give him a good walloping on the back without what they deemed to be good reason, even if he specifically requested it. Not that he would, of course, because that would require explaining himself.

And when explaining himself didn’t work, he tended to run.

That would be slightly harder to do, given the conditions his clothes were in.

He’d started mending them, just a bit, so that he could get by. He could do a bit with the sonic screwdriver, mending fibres here and resonating dried blood off there. He was a bit surprised that, considering he had all manner of things in his pockets, he didn’t have a needle and thread. He made a mental note to put some in there in case anything like this ever happened again.

Though, if and when it did, he probably wouldn’t be wearing this suit anymore. Or this jacket.

Still. He’d worked quickly. Enough so that he’d finished before his scheduled appointment with the good Dr. Holloway. He doubted she’d be particularly disappointed, what with how she felt about him now.

He wished she hadn’t thought he was teasing her, poking fun at her stories. That hadn’t been his intention at all. He should have just come out and said it, but he hadn’t. He had such a gob on him in this regeneration, but did he open his mouth when he should? Of course not.

And now he’d missed his opportunity.

It was just as well. He shouldn’t have come. He managed to ruin them all, somehow, one way or another. This was simply proof that he was making more mistakes, not trying to compensate for his last one. How could he, when he ruined everything—everyone—he’d touched?

No shoes, but at least he was dressed in his suit again. Not that it fit quite as well as it ought to. Bit lumpy. He wasn’t the greatest at stitching. Never had liked all that domestic stuff. But it would do.

It wasn’t as conspicuous as a certain coat he’d worn in the past, one that would put the biblical Joseph’s to shame.

He’d get by.

Though he would like to find his trainers first.

Shouldn’t be too hard.

And then he could slip away to the TARDIS, no worse for the wear, and leave before he ruined Grace’s life any more than he already had.

-|-

The TARDIS refused to let him in.

Even when he claimed it would just be to get a change of clothes.

But she knew better, and he hadn’t been able to win an argument with her yet.

So he went back.

Not back to his hospital bed, no. No, he could do without that. He’d be fine. He’d only lost a bit of blood. Nothing serious. No broken bones, nothing lodged in his body, both hearts fully functioning, memory intact—not much more he could ask for.

He waited outside instead. It was, he thought, perhaps 2004, 2005. Grace may still be in San Francisco, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t moved. And, really, last time he’d been at her place, she hadn’t even had a couch, so she’d either have needed to buy quite a lot of furniture or move to a smaller place. And her place had been a bit of a hike from the hospital, if he remembered correctly. Not normally something that would bother him, but he was, perhaps just a little bit, under the weather.

The Doctor winced as he tried straightening up. Not quite healed up yet. Shouldn’t’ve tried running, really. That probably hadn’t helped. But he was sore enough that he figured pacing probably wasn’t the best way to pass the time, so he found a bench and sat down, waiting.

He was very quickly reminded why he rarely sat down with only his thoughts for company.

Ignoring the pain and his fatigue, he started walking, slowly, around and around and around the hospital grounds.

When he noticed someone watching him, he stopped that and sat down again.

But the itch to be moving remained, gnawing at him.

He wondered why he was doing this.

It wasn’t like he had a lot of time left, as far as he could tell.

His song was ending.

And here he was, waiting, doing nothing except thinking, rehashing everything he’d thought before, when there were worlds to see and places to explore and people to meet and—

Lives to ruin.

That kept him in place, that single thought.

The Doctor waited, deciding what to say the next time he saw Grace.

Because as far as he could tell, he’d only have one shot to get it right. And if he didn’t—if he started off on the wrong foot again—well, then, he wouldn’t get what he needed out of it. Not that he was entirely sure what he would get, or did need, precisely. Not closure. Not peace of mind. More…understanding. So that he would know for the future. So that, perhaps, once he regenerated—if the circumstances were such that he could regenerate—he might be able to see it, in the future. And if he could see it, he could avoid it.

And then he’d never, ever—ever—make that mistake again.

The fact that he’d done it once still scared him.

Almost as much as what would have happened, had someone else not taken it upon herself to correct it, even knowing what that correction would cost.

-|-

Dr. Grace Holloway was not happy to learn that their patient, the self-proclaimed Dr. John Smith, had somehow managed to escape the hospital and that not a single security camera had seen him leave. She hadn’t been particularly pleased with him, pulling the stunt that he had, but he wasn’t in good health, and if he really was a doctor—something she was strongly doubting—then he ought to at least acknowledge the foolishness of his actions. It was something too few people did, thinking they’d just pull through something on their own when they needed some sort of medical care.

Then again, if she were in another country without a passport or so much as a cent to her name, she might have run off, too.

Still, that didn’t explain why he’d singled her out, nor why he’d tried pulling that cruel joke. There was no reason for it. She’d learned, very quickly, to make the entire thing out as a story. And she’d told it, time and again, when she visited the children’s ward. She told other stories, too, but somehow, she always went back to that particular one.

Perhaps because that particular one wasn’t just any story—or just a story at all.

But the amount of detail she’d put into her retellings of it had some people questioning her. Perhaps because the details never changed, as the details of invented stories tended to do. She’d been shocked by the first remark she’d gotten, and even by all the ones that followed, despite knowing better by then. Not that anyone ever meant anything by it, really, as far as she could tell. They were only joking about it—with her, in their eyes. But the comments still stung.

To have snippets of the story repeated back to her, in a manner that hid the joke a little bit too well…. It felt cruel. Uncalled for. And it wasn’t even April Fool’s Day.

Perhaps it wouldn’t bother her so much if she hadn’t spent so much time thinking about it. Wondering, for the most part, what she had missed out on. Whether she’d made the right choice. Whether she’d change her mind, given the chance to. Whether it really had all been just a story or a dream.

The hospital records of that particular John Doe had been destroyed. Explaining away a dead man walking was a bit more difficult than simply burning a couple of x-rays and covering up the death in the first place, but it could be done. Rationalized. It had been late. The orderly had been confused, half-asleep, mixing up reality with that blasted movie he’d been watching. The door hadn’t been closed properly and had been loose on its hinges. It had been battered during normal use but had functioned well enough to not be reported, but its evident failure of function had ultimately required its immediate replacement, holiday or no holiday.

And things had simply fallen into place, logically, rationally, and everything that hadn’t fit had been shoved under the rug and had become unmentionable.

She’d even tried to find Chang Lee, once, when it was all said and done. She hadn’t been successful. She suspected it was because of the two bulging bags he’d held the last time she’d seen him. She still didn’t know what had been in them, but she knew they were from the Doctor. And that…that meant that they could have held anything within them from trinkets to cash to something as outrageous as gold dust.

Grace laughed, a bit bitterly. Oh, look at her now. Pining away after a forgotten possibility. All because some skinny idiot who had no idea what he was doing, how much he was hurting her, was dredging up her memories and shoving them in her face. Someone would have had to put him up to it, she was sure. They’d gone to a lot of trouble, telling someone all her stories. Perhaps he was a friend or relative of someone, thinking he’d have a go at her and have a laugh at her expense.

Although the wounds had been all too real. And the heart trouble wouldn’t have been faked, either. She wondered if they still had those x-rays. She’d be able to tell if his heart was overworked, as he’d kept insisting, by its size.

Grace put her coffee cup down. It was cold anyhow, though the brew had barely been lukewarm to begin with when she’d gone on her break.

Still. John Smith. Doctor. She should have seen through it immediately. The lack of ID, the odd things in the pockets, no money. And then the jelly babies. Oh, it had been planned, all right. Carefully. Not the stabbing, though she expected he’d have come up with one reason or another to see her. It was quite understandable that they didn’t replicate circumstances too much—and it wasn’t easy to fake a gunshot wound, not unless the entire hospital staff was in on it except her. The heart trouble may have been unexpected, or it may have been the reason he’d been the one to try it. She couldn’t be sure. X-rays inconclusive her foot. Perhaps they hadn’t even been taken.

Pursuing that thought, she went to check. But when she got there, she was informed that they had already been disposed of. She demanded to know why, without her even seeing them, particularly before they’d had a chance to take more, and had simply been told that it was out of their hands.

She cornered the newest addition to the staff. She didn’t know the man very well, and she wasn’t good at intimidating people, so she didn’t even try it. She merely pulled him aside and asked for the truth. What they had looked like.

Double exposure.

Double exposure. Yeah, right. As if she’d buy that after all this. Apologetic tone or not, even if he had been the one to take the blasted things— That didn’t matter. They were all in on it. What was this for? There was no rhyme, no reason. Who was trying to make her life hell?

She needed a break. And not just a measly five minutes. She wasn’t the only cardiologist in the hospital. They could cover for her. Oh, not easily, but they’d make do. She might lose her job, but, given the circumstances, she wasn’t so sure that wouldn’t be a bad thing. She’d thought about leaving after that first time, back in 1999. She hadn’t. She’d hung on, clinging to normality after her life had spun out of control. She’d used it as an anchor.

But some things you couldn’t bury so easily.

Given time, it would resurface.

Time.

She’d seen it backtrack, loop around, and play again. Just the once. But that experience had changed everything.

They always say that if it doesn’t matter in five, ten years, it doesn’t matter now, not really. Well, it had been five years. And it was still affecting her. And she was fairly sure another five wouldn’t change that.

She didn’t head to the parking lot, to her car. She knew she’d come back. But now…she needed to walk, now. Just to work off some of her frustration, expend her energy. She needed some time to think, where other things weren’t crowding her thoughts.

She nearly didn’t see him, sprawled on the bench as he was, fast asleep.

“Dr. John Smith,” she said, looking him over. She frowned as she studied him further. She’d seen the condition his clothes had been in, bloodied and torn. And while they were a bit raggedy, there were no gaping holes, no dark red stains stretching across large portions of the shirt. But she knew it had to be the same, because there were smaller spots of blood still there. Only, when she moved closer to get a better look at the material, she couldn’t tell that it had ever been ripped. The holes had closed up as if they had never been there.

How the hell had he managed that?

She shook him, intending to wake him up. He didn’t stir.

She felt for a pulse and yanked her hand back. He was cold. How long had he been out here? She pried open his eyelids, wishing she had a flashlight to better test pupil reactions, and then tried checking for a pulse again. She couldn’t find it, but his pupils had contracted slightly in the light when she stopped shading them with her hand. He wasn’t dead.

He really was in trouble after all.

It was all a bit more serious than she’d been led to believe, then.

“I’ve got to get you back inside,” she said. She looked dubiously at the lanky body splayed over the bench. He’d be heavy enough if she had to carry him. She’d be better off going inside and getting a wheelchair or someone to help her than struggle with him alone.

“And here I only wanted some time to think,” she muttered as she arranged the unconscious man into the recovery position.

She’d just finished making sure his head was tilted at the right angle when his eyes snapped open.

It was a bit hard not to shriek at that.

A grin spread across his face. “Hello, Grace,” he said as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“You need medical help,” she hissed, too angry with herself for losing her self-control earlier and for letting her emotions interfere with how she’d treated a patient than to wonder about how quickly he’d woken up, let alone how he’d woken up at all.

“Nah, better now. Had a bit of a rest. Didn’t expect to. Well, didn’t mean to. I did expect it would sneak up on me. Haven’t had much the last few days, and then, what with getting stabbed and all, well, I do need to replenish my energy now and then. Even I can’t run full-out forever.”

She grabbed his arm and only just stopped herself from pulling him roughly to his feet. “Come with me,” she said, her tone not allowing for argument.

“I don’t need to check back into the hospital if that’s what you’re thinking. If I need anything, I ought to see if I’ve got another zero room hiding out in the TARDIS somewhere. Listen, please. I just…. I think I need to talk to someone.”

Oh, and he was still at it. TARDIS indeed. Not that she knew where he got that bit about a zero room from, but that was beside the point. “I’ll make sure someone will be there to listen to you.”

He frowned, carefully extracting his arm from her grip. “I don’t need a visit from psychiatric,” he groused. But then his expression fell again. “Or perhaps I do, by your terms. But it wouldn’t help. Well, not me. I don’t need to end up in a padded room, thank you very much. Plenty to do without having to deal with that.” He sucked in a breath. “Please. You have to listen to me. I….” He trailed off. “It’s different now,” he said, starting again. “I’m alone now. Gallifrey’s gone.”

“Why do you insist on doing this?” Grace demanded, but she was uncertain now. There was something in his eyes….

“I can regenerate twelve times. But don’t worry; you’re the only one to kill me by punching a hole through my second heart. I’m not about to make that mistake again. Not that it was working earlier. Sign that I wasn’t doing so well, that. But she’s pumping now.” He caught her hands and placed one on either side of his chest before she could think to fight him—maybe because she didn’t want to. Maybe because she wanted it to be true.

A near-impossible duality of rhythm beat beneath her palms.

“There, see?” he asked, giving her a lopsided grin. “I’m easy to find. I’m the guy with two hearts.”