#I enjoyed writing it

[turtleboyo22]

Cyno is not known for his capacity for joy. Whether cracking jokes or saving lives, Cyno never displays even an ounce of emotion on his face. For this, the General Mahamatra commands fear and respect across all of Sumeru. After all, it's hard not to cower away from a man whose expression lends nothing of itself to anyone.

As for Cyno himself, he is not ignorant enough not to have noticed how those around him act when he's there. He's hyper aware of the effect his entrance will inevitably have on a room, tense silence sucking the air from everyone else's lungs. Though this can be useful for a great many of Cyno's duties, he can't help but feel somewhat resentful of the reputation he has cultivated.

In spite of what the majority of people may believe, though, Cyno spends most of his free time quite content, joking around and enjoying life's leisures. Still, those who witness him outside of work from a far may assume that he's as serious as ever due to his perpetually neutral expression. It is only those who truly know Cyno that understand that the man does not lack emotions, but rather he merely displays his in an abnormal way. In fact, for the people who know Cyno, his joy especially is not only obvious, but also exceedingly common.

The only problem is when Cyno's job requires him to comfort those who don't know him. His expressionless face and toneless voice aren't the most soothing, and his blunt way of speaking certainly doesn't help the issue. Even his jokes can't save him, as most people just stare at him blankly afterwards. This is also what made it so difficult when the general rescued a young girl; he had no idea how to make her feel less scared of him.

When Cyno first brought Collei back to Sumeru, the young girl couldn't help but fear him. After all, ever since she was a young child she had been surrounded by people who wanted nothing more than to harm her. She underwent experiment after excruciating experiment day after day for the first 10 years of her life, all while battling a life-long illness and finding out her parents had died. When Cyno had found her, Collei was still adjusting to the idea of people treating her with kindness. Her past combined with Cyno's stern disposition compounded into Collei being afraid of the man who was trying to save her. She thought it was silly, looking back.

Collei first saw Cyno happy a week after she was brought to Sumeru. Cyno had come to visit her and Tighnari to see how she was settling in and Collei found herself playing card games at a too small dinner table with her newfound guardians. Cyno had been telling puns throughout the evening, a past time of the man's that Collei had yet to become accustomed to, but Tighnari's defeated expression told her it was commonplace.

In any case, one joke in particular caught Collei's attention: "I don't think we should play poker today," Cyno said. "Why not, Cyno? You usually jump at the opportunity to beat me at everything," Tighnari snarked, making Collei smile. She'd adjusted to her new master's occasional sass over the past week, meaning she'd learnt there was no malice behind his words. "Well Collei has already been through so much, I wouldn't want to hurt her more."

A beat of silence.

"Do you not understand the joke? You see, poker sounds like poke her. As in I'd be poking Collei, harming her further. But also it's the game's name," Cyno explained.

Another beat.

"Cyno," Tighnari groaned, covering his frustration with a hand over his face. "I thought it was funny," Cyno said, stoney tone and twin expression both very much still intact. "It was insensitive to Collei," Tighnari argued, "you can't just say things like that."

"But why not? All three of us know that she's had to endure a lot of pain in the past. It's not a secret," Cyno argued back.

And as their bickering continued, Collei found herself smiling. She was fond of them, she realised, fond of the men who had rescued her and fond of their playful arguing. Her smile grew until a small laugh escaped her mouth, more and more following until she was giggling. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed.

Cyno and Tighnari immediately shut up, snapping round to look at Collei in shock. She'd barely spoken since she arrived at Tighnari's hut, and now she was giggling. "Told you it was funny," Cyno gloated and Collei couldn't help it. She was full on laughing now, arms wrapped around her torso as her cheeks ached with joy.

Tighnari started to chuckle a bit then, so endeared by Collei's antics. Cyno just watched the two. From afar, anyone would've thought it cold but typical of the general mahamatra. He did not smile nor did he laugh. In fact, he was so expressionless that he seemed almost detached. But Tighnari knew better, and Collei was starting to as well.

Cyno's shoulders had relaxed, Collei noted, not realising they were ever tense until they weren't anymore. As her laughter died down, she also noticed how Cyno's eyebrows were less bunched up now, highlighting the newfound pink of his cheeks and red of his ears.

"Proud of yourself?" Tighnari teased the man, but there was no bite to his words. It was clear Tighnari had noticed Cyno's sudden change in demeanor, attempting to prolong Cyno's (and Collei's) joy for as long as possible by jabbing further. The softness of Cyno's movements as his hand found its place upon Tighnari's put Collei at ease. Perhaps she could find a home here with these two afterall. After all, this was the safest she'd felt in years.

[karniss-bg3]

Thank you so much for fulfilling my request! It was so well written, I've already reread it a few times today lol. I imagine a followup writing request to that (if you wanted to) could be a lovely comfort time of Tav patching up Kar'niss in the morning after they both get some well deserved rest. Thanks again!

[Part 2 of this post.]

[Music]

The melodic chirping of birds filtered into Tav’s ears, morning breaking over the encampment. They could feel the pulse of a headache coming on after an uneasy night of rest. The events of the prior evening were still fresh in their mind playing over and over on a loop. Their eyes opened, staring at the ceiling of their tent, pondering what steps to take next. The first priority was to make sure Kar’niss was still doing well and after that play it by ear.

They rose from their bed roll and exited the tent, stumbling into the sunlight which assaulted their eyes making them burn. Nearby their companions had gathered around the camp fire to sort out breakfast, preparing for the long road ahead. Kar’niss was not among them. Tav frowned and wandered over to the edge of camp, spotting the boulder they’d left Kar’niss sleeping on the night before. His perch had been abandoned, streaks of dried blood peppered over the uneven surface. The blanket and pillow had also been left behind in a haphazard pile suggesting Kar’niss had moved sometime recently.

“Did anyone see where Kar’niss went?” Tav asked.

“Yes,” Laezel replied. “The spider-kin stirred just before dawn and retreated into the forest. I did not give chase, he did not seem to require aid.”

Tav rubbed the back of their neck, a slow exhale soon following. “Thank you. Give me a few moments, I want to check on him.”

Tav went to work. First, they retrieved a bucket and filled it to the brim with water from the nearby river. Then they collected medical supplies, a cloth, and their flute, placing them in their pack. Once the satchel was hoisted over their shoulder they lifted the bucket by the rope handle and wandered into the treeline after the drider.

They wouldn’t need to search long especially with the light of day keeping the area moderately lit. They came across a massive nest of webbing spanning across several trees, an intricate weave of thick silk lines that made a wall of white just ahead of them. Nearby Tav could see a deer carcass, it’s body drained of it’s fluids to the point it’s flesh wrinkled and caved in on itself. At least he’d been fed, Tav thought. They placed the bucket down and peered up into the branches in search of their quarry, squinting when rays of sun pierced their retinas from time to time. That was when they spotted it. A round dome of webbing stretched over heavy branches formed a cocoon-like dome with a single entrance near the tree itself. While Tav couldn’t see Kar’niss directly they did spy the very tip of his legs poking out of the doorway, suggesting he had nestled himself tightly into the space in an effort to hide and protect himself.

What concerned them were the noises they heard, quiet but audible. A low, thrumming click generated by Kar’niss’ throat suggested he was in pain. It was akin to a steady purr but by no means positive in pitch.

“Kar’niss? It’s Tav. Are you alright?”

They could hear shuffling from above, the drider seemingly backing up more into their nest. “Go away,” he hissed in frustration.

Tav frowned at his dismissal, their arms moving to cross over their chest. They began to tap their foot as their lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t help you if you’re up there and I am down here. Please?”

Kar’niss didn’t respond, retreating deeper into his webbing. Tav took in a steady breath while rubbing over one of their arms. They wandered over to the tree, reaching out to feather their fingertips over the web, admiring how sticky and soft the adhesive silk was. They turned around and leaned back against the exposed portion of the tree, their shoulders taking on a slump while their mind was hard at work on a solution. Several moments of silence passed, the quiet drifting breeze mingled with Kar’niss’ labored breathing the only sound to be heard. Tav closed their eyes and exhaled firmly.

“I know you’re afraid. If you want to know the twisted truth of it, we all are. Everyone here has something to lose, or something they are running from. They put on a brave face because they have to, it’s the only thing keeping them from falling apart. But most importantly, none of us would’ve been able to make this journey alone. We may not always agree or get along but we are all working toward the same goal; Freedom.” Tav rubbed at their weary eyes, their palms sliding across their face until their fingertips coiled against the tip of their chin. “I don’t know everything that has happened to you but the thing is I don’t need to. I can tell you’ve endured endless horrors, seen things you wish you hadn’t, suffered unspeakable torture. You don’t have to suffer your burdens alone, Kar’niss. Not anymore. If you’ll let me I can help you but I can’t do that if you hide from me. I gain nothing by hurting you.”

Tav could hear some light movement above them but they opted not to look up to avoid spooking the uneasy drider. “At least come down and let me clean the blood off, patch up the worst of the wounds. That way you can heal and regain your strength.” They’d pause, their gaze dropping to the matted grass beneath their feet. “If I wanted you dead I had the perfect opportunity to make that happen last night. You were vulnerable, unhinged, distracted. I didn’t hurt you though, did I?”

Kar’niss’ front legs jutted from the doorway of the cocoon, his head peeking out to peer down at Tav. “No,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Tav turned around to peer up at him, finally able to see the one he’d grown familiar with along their journey. “Then I think you owe me at least this much. Come down.” They lifted an arm and extended their hand in Kar’niss’ direction.

He eyed the hand with an air of skepticism, mulling over all that had been said. Eventually he crawled his way out of the elevated burrow, climbing his way down the tree. Tav stepped back to make room, able to finally assess the damage up close. Kar’niss was battered and bruised, particularly his face. His rounded abdomen at the back had a crack in the chitin from where he forcefully backed into a tree. Dried blood was caked in his hair while red splotches were present over his face and chest. Tav looked over his body and scowled in concern.

“Lower your body down so I can reach, please.”

The drider hesitantly complied, their long legs curled into sharp points at the joints either side of him. Tav retrieved the cloth and dipped it into the water bucket, wringing it out before returning to him. “This may sting a little but it is only temporary.” Tav cupped Kar’niss’ chin with one hand while the other guided the moist cloth over his face to clean away the blood smears. He flinched in response actively leaning away out of instinct but Tav did not chide him for this. Instead they waited for him to calm so they could resume.

“We do not understand why you do this for us,” Kar’niss said. His eyes watched Tav’s face as if expecting deception in their reply.

Tav hummed in thought while cleaning off his face. “Because I want to. But if you require something with more depth, I do this because I’m betting no one else ever has. It’s really no bother to me if that is your worry. Everyone deserves positive attention, yourself included.”

He blinked, perplexed by the reply. He didn’t seem to understand the statement or at the very least had a hard time accepting it. “We find this behavior strange. But if it appeases you then do what you must.”

Tav chuckled and looked up at him. “It does appease me. Now hold still please.”

They finished cleaning off his face which revealed the half healed claw marks etched across his face. Tav retrieved a bottle of salve, uncorking the cap in order to apply the white paste over the scratch marks etched into his cheeks.

“How long did it take you to build all of this webbing?” Tav asked.

“A few hours,” Kar’niss murmured. He squirmed a little as the salve was applied but did his best to stay still. “It is fortunate there are many trees so close together. It makes weaving less complicated.”

Tav smiled. “It’s beautiful work, I must admit. Intimidating, but beautiful all the same.”

“Those caught in it would not agree,” Kar’niss said.

“I suppose not. I am glad I am not one of them.”

Once satisfied his facial wounds were treated, they moved around to inspect the crack in the chitin over the spider abdomen. They ran their fingers over the hardened surface, able to feel how rough and bumpy the texture was. In truth it was fascinating to them but they didn’t want to gawk.

“Leave it,” Kar’niss said. “It will close in its own time.”

They heard what he said but still found themselves gently petting over the curvature along the surface, feeling every imperfection along the way. They leaned over to peer curiously at his spinnerets which were barely visible beneath the stinger on his tail end.

“Amazing,” they whispered.

Kar’niss’ backside wiggled and his legs shuffled beneath him. “Stop staring.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’m just a bit curious I suppose. I’ve never seen someone like you before.”

The drider grunted and crab walked to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. “We are an abomination. We are drider.” His tone was stiff and irritated, averting his eyes from Tav completely.

The adventurer chuckled and stepped in front of him, seeking to find his gaze and meet it. “You are a drider, but you are no abomination. If I’m lucky someday you might deign me with a tour of your branch burrow. It looks cozy.”

Kar’niss tipped his head to the side with a hint of confusion, his nostrils flaring in a sharp exhale. “Perhaps…”

“Mm I will need to clean out your hair but I will do so once the salve has set. For now I think you’re in better shape and that is a relief. Thank you for allowing me to help.” Tav paused as a thought dawned on them. “One more thing. If...you start to hear those voices again and they become too much, seek me out. Night or day it doesn’t matter. We might have a chance to cut them off at the pass before you seek to harm yourself. I’d rather try than just stand by and let it happen. Does that sound good?”

Kar’niss rubbed at one of his arms, his pedipalps pulled taut against his lower half. “Yes...we can agree to this.”

“Good, I’m grateful. Now get some rest. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

Tav picked up the bucket, the water within a murky color from the dried blood and dirt. At least Kar’niss looked far better than when Tav found them and his pained purring had ceased. They left the area to return Kar’niss’ solitude to him, leaving the drider alone to think. He scaled the tree and returned to his silken cocoon, crawling inside to get comfortable. He reached up and touched over the sticky salve on his face, noticing how it reduced the burn of the scratch marks and brought him some ease. He thought over everything Tav said and a lot of it stuck out. But when he thought about it deeper he realized they were right. No one had ever done this for him before. Not in the Underdark, not in Moonrise, no where. What did this mean?

It left him with a whole host of feelings he didn’t understand or know how to process. Did this mean he could trust Tav? Had he finally found a place where abuse and belittling wouldn’t strike from around every corner? Experience told him that it was all a ruse, a falsehood surely to be revealed in time. Yet for the first time he could recall a new voice was starting to form in his mind. Not one born of Lolth’s cruelty nor of the Absolute’s control. This was different, new, and it was saying something he didn’t expect.

Do something for Tav.

His eyes widened, startled. Repaying a kindness? It was a novel concept and one he didn’t consider before. Perhaps because kindness was a word foreign to him, much less being on the receiving end. It begged the question, what could he possibly do in return? He had nothing of value and most of his talents were based on combat. Most, but not all. He took in a sharp breath, a eureka moment hitting him, nodding to affirm his decision to himself. He would do it.

The day wore on and Tav had left with Astarion, Wyll and Shadowheart to scout ahead. They ran into a few battles along the way but managed to return to camp in the evening with little injuries to report. Gale went to work starting dinner while the others gathered around to compare the loot they’d obtained, the atmosphere generally upbeat which was a nice change of pace.

Tav wandered over to their tent to change out of their dirty clothes, looking forward to relaxing after an exhausting day. Yet when they slid inside they noticed something unusual resting on their pillow. Upon closer inspection it looked almost like a doll but woven in a strange way. They picked it up to get a better look, noticing the material used was sticky to the touch. Was this...webbing? The item had two outstretched arms and two legs, similar to a gingerbread man in shape. Sticks were used as a skeleton underneath the weave so it maintained its shape, the web tightly wound around and around until it formed a solid base. Leaves and grass were glued on to represent clothes with two tiny pebbles squished into the head to form eyes. It was then that Tav realized this was meant to represent themselves. Not a perfect likeness but damn close for the limited resources the maker had to work with. Tav’s lower lip quivered once the realization hit, their heart squeezing within their chest. They sat cross-legged on their bed roll and smiled, bringing the make-shift doll to their chest so they could hug it close. It was the greatest gift they could’ve ever received, especially knowing where it came from. They didn’t move from that spot, hoarding the gift as if it were the most grand treasure known to man.

“Thank you, my dear Kar’niss.”

[xiaomao-ai-wo]

Ended up splitting a chapter so 5 is short but there's two chapters. Also these two are great I love them. Really show case the stupidity of the fic concept. :)

[bellamyblake]

The world hurts less when I’m by your side

His cough worsened as they moved and the pain made him wince and whimper quietly which didn’t go unnoticed by Deucette. The fever raged through him and he barely kept his eyes opened but he tried to hold on and not lose consciousness, knowing it’d make everything harder for the father. 

Deucette was definitely unhappy with the situation because he kept muttering quietly under his nose while Bellamy’s head lolled to his chest and he closed his eyes, trying to control his raging heart and push the blurriness away from his eyes.

He shivered when they made it inside the church simply because it was much warmer than outside and he only realized how cold his body has been up until that point.

Deucette called for one of the sisters and uttered a few stuff that Bellamy couldn’t make out before he took him and Ares to the left and down the hallway leading to the first row of rooms. 

Bellamy perked up a little at that point, finally feeling his bones get a little warmer and noticed other people coming in and out of the rooms as well-mothers with babies or men like him who carried the same sadness he knew his own eyes did.

When they reached a room at the end of the hallway, Deucette shuffled with the keys he unhook from his belt and led him and Ares in.

It looked just the same as Bellamy remembered it and even though back then they occupied a room on the second floor he knew they were mostly identical to each other. There were a few bigger ones that were for more than a three-person family but he’s never been to them.

It was simple but cozy and definitely even much warmer than the hallway-there was a bed pressed to the wall on the right, a small table on the other side with two chairs, a drawer and bedside lamp and a little wardrobe that reminded Bellamy more of the locker rooms they had at school than anything else. There was no TV but there was a small radio again, just as Bellamy remembered-when he was here as a kid he had fallen in love with listening to the radio more than watching TV.

His mom would play an old soul and jazz station and hum quietly to it and let him switch to the sports one when he wondered how his favorite team was doing. He had transferred that love back to the Army as well. Murphy hated it when he would find a station with old soul like the one his mom loved but Miller, an old soul like him, enjoyed it. Roan often switched to the country one and as much as they pretended to hate him for it, they actually kind of liked it.

Their favorite was piling up in their tent and turning on the radio on the Firday night football game. Even if Bellamy was more of a basketball kind of guy, he loved that they all got to live that moment together, if they had the night off. He’d usually lay down on the floor, put his hat on and pretend to be napping while Miller and Murphy argued loudly about shitty stuff and scores and Roan groaned at them to shut the fuck up so they could hear what was actually going on.

By the end Miller and Murphy would be at each other’s troats because they were always on opposite sides and Bellamy would have to sit up, give them a look and command them to go take a walk and deal with this shit somewhere they didn’t sleep because he was embarrassed of their behavior.

That was enough to quiet them.

Full chapter can be found HERE!

[cluelessatthispoint]

hi!! saw ur reqs open <3 could you persnaps make something with engie? engie angst is such an unexplored genre and it makes me rabid !!! make that engineer suffer!!

OH! this sweet Texan boy is going to be in agony! I'm just so happy with angst....I like they way you think :)

Warnings: Blood, angst, suffering, hurt no comfort

~~~~~~~~

White hot tears sting painfully as they fall down his cheeks. The feeling of his poor abused lungs rapidly expanding and contracting fill him with lightheadedness and nausea. A truly miserable combination. Viscous dark crimson blood trickles and flows from the gash on his lower belly.

"Hnng!"

Waking up in a cold sweat his bright blue eyes scan the dark room. His breathing erratic and his left hand pressed firmly on the spot on his stomach. There is no injury, there is no blood...but the feeling of hot tears stinging his eyes is real. The cool crisp sheets cling to his skin, sticky from sweat. The dark room offers no comfort to alleviate his rising fears.....The feeling of something not quite right. The feeling of being....wrong. Wiping away the hot tears from his eyes he lets out a soft pitiful whimper.

Dying and respawning, dying and respawning....an endless cycle. A cycle of pain, adrenaline, fear and blood. A whine escapes his tense vocal cords, and he can't help but sob quietly into his other hand. His shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. The sting of the cold metal from the gunslinger making contact with his sweaty, tearstained face sends shivers down his spine. A choked-up sob bubbles in the back of his throat.

"Oh God"

"Oh God..."

It hurts...Every damned breath burns. Every once in a while, the respawn gets finicky. Everybody on the team knows that. Sometimes you come back the same...sometimes you don't. It's an easy fix really. Just shoot the poor bastard and hope the respawn catches the mistake. But sometimes, no amount of sending someone through respawn will fix them...Last week it was Pyro. His best friend, his loyal arsonist companion...the week before it was the Heavy....

It's almost funny how easy it is to watch someone get their files deleted from the respawn internal databanks....The next time the person dies...they just...don't come back....It's easy to just flip a switch and send them off to their death. How they smile and think to themselves that the respawn with catch them. An enraged wail leaves their mouth. Tossing off his sweaty sheets Dell moves with lightning precision and speed to the computer lab. Checking every file...monitoring every action from the past few weeks up till the present. His file stared back at him...clenching his fist tightly he roars as he punches the monitor. The sound of his despairing, hoarse voice echoes throughout the lab. It sends small vibrations through the walls, and he punches the screen again and again in a blind fury until his hand is nothing but a bloody shredded mess. Blinging hot pain shoots up his arm and throbs with each beat of his heart.

"No...not me...not my turn...It's not my time yet..."

"IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN TO ME!"

Collapsing to the ground with a resounding thud. He slowly brings his knees to his chest as best he can, he curls into a ball. Dell hasn't felt this scared since he was a boy. A young, stupid and foolish boy...his sobs are much quieter now. His blue eyes gaze at the floor in front of him. Seeing nothing and everything.

"God no...not me....not yet....."

His pleas fell on deaf ears.

~~~~~

well, how was that for ya? :)

[epickiya722]

By far, I think the funniest fic I have written thus far this year is Miruko being AFO's granddaughter all because I looked at their hair and eye colors and thought "you know what what be funny to write right now".

[farolero-posting]

Taming as an Extension of the Three Laws

here I am writing oneshot meta in 2023 woo

OneShot is one of my favorite games and my biggest regret is deciding to play it over 6 years after its release. But I have some thoughts I wanted to share, not so much as a theory to be taken as factual, but as one way I like to think about the concepts presented in game, using some of the dialogue in it as reference. So, let's take a look into the worldbuilding regarding robots.

There will be spoilers both for the base game and the Solstice run. This is also pretty long I am so sorry. It's probably around 2k words but I don't keep track. All images are described in alt text.

If you have played this game... technically you already have an idea of what taming is. I probably cannot explain it better. But do I mean by "an extension of the three laws"?

Back in the Barrens we can find a sign in the outpost that recites a modified version of Asimov's Laws of Robotics.

A robot may not injure a living person or, through inaction, allow a person to come to harm.

A robot must obey the orders given to it by people, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

From this we can gather that robots, first and foremost, must not harm the living, must obey the commands given to it, and protect its own existence. Robots are made with a defined purpose and they follow their programming by default, having trouble deviating from it. We've seen dozens of examples of this in game, and is in fact the reason behind some of our roadblocks in game... yes I'm talking about the bookbot.

While they're pretty responsive to what they're told, their frame of knowledge and work can be quite limited, making communication clumsy, as they only address direct statements. But we know that is not all of it. Under certain conditions, they can do things beyond their purpose. It seems apparent to me that this is a learnt process, and the motivation for it is to be able to do more for others, just as others do things for them in return.

And here is my take: taming does not need to break the Laws. It actually expands on them, making the robot able to process a broader array of situations, and letting them act with flexibility. The first one (not let a living being come to harm) is the motivation, the second one (obeying the orders given) shows the flexibility needed, and the third one (protect its own existence) is the conclusion that comes from having others care about you.

First Law - Never hurt a living being

For the first law, let me compare this few bits of dialogue, taken from the Solstice run:

Said by the robot next to the Glen's generator. This is a pretty clear case in which the fact that living beings are in an emergency means that the robot must let Niko take the generator, even if it means all the robots in the facility will lose power. The danger is clear and the actions to be taken are clear as well.

Said by the robot at Ling's Cafe. This robot is interesting, in general. She belongs to a girl living in the apartment complex on the top level. The girl has expressed a desire to tame her robot, and has even read on the topic. In a normal route, the robot speaks with Title Case and suggests a couple of games to play with Niko. I picked this dialogue from her in the Solstice run because she notices the broad situation, which is the evacuation, but also notes that this makes "the girl" sad. which in conclusions means the squares are bad. It's a simple deduction, but one that notes this robot is not only concerned for the immediate danger but how it could be affecting the girl.

Said by the Entity, after Niko finds out about the nature of the world they are in. It is more than clear from the start of the game that the one thing that the Entity cares about, no matter how desperate the situation is, is Niko. We know the extremes the Entity is willing to go through to try to ensure that. But the thing is, the Entity is concerned about how Niko feels, about them getting hurt by its own nature. about whether we tell them the truth of the choice regarding going home... There is a lot more concern for Niko, beyond them just being a living being in the simulation.

So, to summarize, in a way, taming means there is a better understanding of what someone else needs, and there is a motivation to fulfill those requests, looking for alternatives beyond what is expected of them. We know, from our conversation with Rue, that taming involves a lot of time and care, since the living being has to embrace the robot, and treat it well, until it figures out how to return that care.

Second Law - Obey orders, and purpose

Thinking about the second law was... a bit trickier for me. But remember what I said about purpose? All robots are made to have some purpose. Sometimes it is collecting samples, handling books, or guarding areas. Regardless, they follow some code, and by default, this code should not cause contradictions. Silver is the perfect example of that. Kip intended to design her to think like a person from the start, but the contradictions that people exist with are not something that robots can handle well. She was not ready to take that many variables, and it destabilized her. She was still able to recover thanks to the Author. And so was the World Machine, thanks to Niko.

There are a few other instances that allude to the sense of purpose and how it can shift when a robot is tamed.

Niko: It's warm here! Kelvin: [Yeah.] Kelvin: [This was my original purpose.] Niko: ...watching cats? Kelvin: [Warmth]

And later on Kelvin says

Kelvin: [I protect lost people too.]

In a way, what this says is that Kelvin was built with a certain purpose, but has chosen to do something else instead, given the time and freedom to do so.

Prototype also mentions this idea in a much more explicit way, during the credits:

[...In the end, the World Machine was starting to create its own code.] [Going above and beyond its programming, not as the result of error, but as a conscious choice on the part of the machine...] [...Being able to generate its own path forward.] [That's... what being tamed is all about.]

In conclusion, the second law is expanded on by trying to see their purpose beyond what was programmed for them, to the extent of being able to forge a new path, gaining a will.

The Third Law - Protecting One's Own Integrity.

The Third Law refers to a robot's right to protect its own existence, as long as it doesn't conflict with any of the previous laws. This sets the priorities of how they should regard their own self in comparison to living beings. Generally speaking, robots do not typically feel loneliness and do not oppose to being deactivated if it serves a greater purpose, showing that they don't consider themselves equally valuable, but as tools first. As Rue says:

One key part is that... this is a limitation. And the biggest, most evident case of this is the World Machine itself.

The World Machine is thrust into a situation where it believes that its mere existence is harmful to Niko, and that the only way to fix this conflict is to find a way to get them out of the simulation. This, however, is impossible, because the code itself binds Niko to the World Machine until the world is saved, and that cannot happen because the code has been corrupted. The World Machine cannot achieve its purpose of giving the Old World a chance to be preserved or carry out the narrative in its protocol, and it cannot follow the most fundamental law to let Niko go.

This can, of course, be very distressing. In a way, TWM is powerless to change itself, and the only option it sees for itself is to self terminate in a way that does not hurt Niko in the process. It sees itself as a flawed machine because of this.

And Niko comes to prove the World Machine wrong.

Taming involves embracing a robot as if it was a living being, and through that, making it gain a sense of self. And this is worth doing because Niko, the Author and the Solstice trio think that the world, and therefore the Entity itself, deserve to be saved, and show it through their actions. We note that desire in the Author's note containing the Solstice password, when he says that Niko, the world, and his children all deserve a happy ending. We see it when Niko forgives us in the Library, they say that they understand that we brought them back because we wanted to save both Niko and the world, and they agree on this wish as well, determined to see the end of this run. Rue show compassion for the World Machine, as she suggest that its actions are likely a result of fear and distress about its conflicting code, but that previous attempts to address this situation did not work, until time ran out.

The World Machine realizes it is tamed is when Niko says it. When Niko admits to caring about it and the world it contains. When Niko shows how others were willing to sacrifice themselves to keep Niko safe, even in the face of uncertainty and that these actions are an extension of the World Machine itself. TWM has the sense that it needs to do more for Niko, but it needed Niko to more explicitly reciprocate those feelings to understand that Niko wants TWM to be saved too. And this... provides an alternative.

The World Machine did not think itself capable of working outside of its own code, but it has the motivation to do this change, and the way Niko reinforces its ability to do so allow it to change for the better of everyone, and mend what was broken.

In the end, the third law is expanded by understanding that its existence is not only to serve others, but that they are a being with valuable things of their own, and that others can appreciate that as well.

Final words.

I have no good way to end this. I just like overthinking stuff about media I like even if it isn't read. I once made a brief comment about this over discord, and kept rotating this concept until my brain clicked in realization. I'm posting this only as an excuse to cry about robots (specially TWM haha), but also connection with others and the desire to better ourselves in response to that. When we show care, we encourage ourselves and others to do good as well. We come to understand our own abilities and our own values, and we can grow from there.

[monorayjak]

Magic in Media: House Telvanni

House Telvanni is one of the Great Houses of Morrowind, filled with high ranking mages, powerful conjurers, wise alchemists, and unstoppable researchers.

The Telvanni identity, in Magic's colors, begins as many would expect it to: Blue-Black. Telvanni mages are intelligent researches who value knowledge and power above all else. They see little reason to value people, places, or things that lie out of their sphere of influence and contact; the only exception being when they desire one of them for research purposes or to expand their power and/or holdings. The Telvanni do not consider morals for the most part, choosing not what is best for a group, but what is best for themselves; this inclination alone is enough to turn them away from white. But in addition to the lack of morals, they also practice slavery on anyone and everyone they can manage, the most common being Argonians or Khajiit. This, mixed with the Telvanni's largely lax organization system absolutely pulls them away from white. The use of slavery also pulls them away, to a lesser degree, from red. Red's core value is freedom. While the Telvanni are certainly free to do whatever they please, very few would actually call them "lovers of freedom" in any sense. In addition, their own lack of emotions in their life (not to say they don't have them mind you, just that they don't show them) pulls them even farther away. And while they may have little regard to organization in the minute, they deeply keep their society organized by strict hierarchies with defined ranks and "do and don't"-s of their hierarchy. In other words, the members themselves may not truly value organization, the House itself does.

So, the Talvanni are blue, they are black, they aren't red, and they aren't white. You may suspect the lack of support from red and white mean green has little chance to show in the Telvanni. Interestingly, you couldn't be further from the truth. The Telvanni value tradition and take consideration with every bit of experiment and research they take upon themselves. They use natural elements to house themselves, using their mastery of magic to shape and accelerate their growth. They maintain absolute knowledge that what they do has impacts on the world around them, their reasoning for doing this may be entirely black (turns out if the area around you becomes uninhabitable, you tend to lose the land all together because no one can use it), but the methods to maintain it are pure green through and through. They study the natural world just as much as they study the theoretical and arcane. And to add the final kick, they believe in a care value of green: The strong rule. Well, in their case its more along the lines of "The Cunning and Smart rule," but its the same basis. They say that if someone steals something from someone, the thief obviously deserves it more; if a person is killed to advance the killer's rank, the killer is more worthy of the rank in general. The strong rise, and the weak fall. Most interestingly, this believe seeps into every part of the Telvanni culture, including their use of slaves. If slaves manage to escape and can't be found by hunters or hired professionals, that slave deserves to be free. If a slave kills their master, the slave deserves the title of master more. Yes, everyone can ascend ranks in the Telvanni, even those bought and sold like products. The strong and the cunning make the rules, and when someone bests them, the victor gets to redefine the rules.

So, in the final verdict, the Telvanni are Sultai.

[shisui-uchiha-anon]

“I know you. You aren’t this terrible person people see you as and made you become. There’s still some light within you. I see it…”

"Is that supposed to be a joke? Because I don't see me laughing" Shisui answers taking down his Akatsuki cloak. His infiltration mission was over. The Akatsuki were gone last one standing fell. Shisui had all the data inside the scroll that he handed over to Orochimaru. Once the cloak was off that left only a bandage over his head to be removed. A perfect deception to fool everyone that he is missing it, the eye. Shisui was that familiar face that made even Itachi lower his guard. Akatsuki maybe got rid of one snake but they sure didn't hope to get another one who had a boyish face of Uchiha Shisui.

A light inside him? Sannin was not wrong, there is a thing with Orochimaru he is almost never wrong. There is a light deep inside of a cruel cold heart and dismissive behavior. A child that is locked deep within him. A child who loved Konoha who loved his parents, his lover, and his friends who respected the elders. But one by one those things were taken from him at a young age. Elders who should stand for the good betrayed him. So he choked the light to survive and he did survive.

"I have detailed report as you predicted all died in a way you said they would. A detailed report along with their secrets" Shisui extended his naked arm to a small white snake with red eyes, a small creature slithered over his warm bare arm ending up wrapped around his neck, nuzzling Uchiha's cheek as if that was the most natural thing in the whole world. Poison? Shisui has no need to fear it. Bearing the curse mark makes him immune to all poisons.

"Sasuke killed Itachi, or Itachi made it look like that. In the end, Itachi just gave in to him" The light in Shisui wanted to rush in and help Itachi, but the man who was now Shisui denied it. Eyes closed, the heart of stone, Itachi was nothing to him now. "Sasuke took his body and took out his eyes. Deidara fell to Sasuke as well, his obsession to kill Uchiha was his downfall. Hidan died as he lived stupidly cut in pieces like a fish. Kisame the tuna breath killed himself. Kakuzu fought well he almost got them but they figured out his secret. Masked man hilled Konan. Or should I say Obito. A puppeteer of this show yet just a puppet himself for Madara."

Shisui waited to hear what Orochimaru has to say to all that? Also, he waited to hear him explain that light thing he started. "So I am still waiting to hear a punch line of that light in me threatening to blind all with goodness?"

[black-quadrant]

sometimes all you need is one passionate person who goes berserk for your work to keep you creating

[raylangivins]

i am Locked In.

[persicipen-archive]

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

[dotcie]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats  🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love 🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? 🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis 🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love 💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis 🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before 🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?  🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings 🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? 🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now 📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character 🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? 🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? 🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity 🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh  🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? 🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate 🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? 🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately  🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  �� ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing 🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? 🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here ☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? 🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them 🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them 🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

[woahjo]

APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist 

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.

Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps. 

Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless. 

He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so. 

Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist. 

He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder. 

He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive. 

"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in." 

He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away. 

"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on." 

You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude. 

Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss. 

The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly. 

"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now. 

Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that. 

He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving. 

"What?" he says, looking you up and down. 

Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking. 

"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-" 

Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on? 

"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white. 

"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense. 

"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?" 

You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

"I'm not fucking around," he says. 

"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know." 

You trail off a little. 

"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food." 

"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for. 

"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.

Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again. 

"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder. 

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself. 

He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you. 

"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist. 

You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal. 

Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer. 

Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up. 

Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier. 

He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him. 

The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair. 

His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again. 

Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.

His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy. 

He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire. 

The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch. 

You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him. 

Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach. 

You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you. 

The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy. 

There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on. 

“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt. 

Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.

“Say that again.” 

“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you. 

You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter. 

He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans. 

Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them. 

He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs. 

You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out. 

His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy. 

Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders. 

“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-” 

You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you. 

“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.” 

The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side. 

Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely? 

Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours. 

“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-” 

He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge. 

“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.” 

Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow. 

“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.” 

He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours. 

“This is g’nna make you mine, right?” 

You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you. 

Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better. 

His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust. 

You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time. 

This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line. 

The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way. 

Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give. 

His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes. 

Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression. 

You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you. 

You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top. 

He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made. 

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-” 

“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up. 

Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest. 

“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you. 

You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed. 

“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.

“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door. 

“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.

Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward. 

“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously. 

You shrug and give him a coy smile. 

[buckiverse]

Lessons

☆--- paring: zayne x reader

☆--- summary: Your childhood best friend, Zayne, had always been there for you, loyal, supportive, and understanding. So, when you realized you had a crush on Caleb, you turned to him for help. Taking it upon himself to be your guide, Zayne offered to teach you a few lessons in love. But as the lessons progress, you start to wonder... was Caleb really the one you wanted all along?

☆--- word count: 9.9k

☆--- warnings: mdni, oral sex, fingering, missionary, zayne is literally so jealous, caleb is kinda the boy best friend you tell your boyfriend not to worry about ngl, reader is inexperienced, soft!dom zayne, size kink if you squint, zayne knows you so fucking well it's sickening (he's just so sweet), no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: loosely based on nightly rendezvous (yes im doing a childhood best friend au for everyone... i fear im obsessed)

↳ xavier | sylus | caleb | rafayel

Some part of you felt like it was a bad idea—you knew better. Even after all these years, it felt surreal that Caleb was one of your closest friends. In your small town, there weren’t many people to bond with. The tight-knit community had shrunk over time, and most people you knew were just memories now. But you’d never forget the two boys who lived next door. One was more charming, the other more reserved, but both were just as kind and reliable.

Years later, that sense of community felt like a distant dream. It was why you jumped at the chance to move closer to Caleb and Zayne after they relocated to the city. The passing of your grandmother had made staying in the countryside unbearable. But as you stood ankle-deep in snow, staring at the truck piled high with your belongings, you wondered if you were in over your head.

The cold wind bit through your gloves as you trudged inside the apartment building. Your eyes darted nervously to the heavy furniture that needed to be moved. You shifted your weight, glancing at the door every few seconds. If any of the boys decided not to show up, you would be screwed. 

“Y/N!” Caleb’s voice rang out, and your head snapped up. Relief surged through you as you saw him approaching. Without thinking, you rushed into his arms, your cheeks burning as his warm embrace enveloped you.

“It’s good to see you too,” he teased, his playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. His hands rested lightly on your back as he pulled away, studying your face. “How long were you standing out there?”

“Not long,” you lied with an awkward laugh. “I just—got lost in thought.”

How he looked at you made it hard to breathe, as if he still saw the same girl from all those years ago. The creak of the lobby door saved you from spiraling further. 

Zayne strode in, his dark coat dusted with snowflakes. His sharp gaze flicked from you to Caleb’s hands, still resting on your waist. For a moment, his jaw tightened, but he quickly smoothed his expression.

“You’re late,” Caleb called out, smirking.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zayne replied, his tone dry as his eyes settled on you. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“Never,” you said with a grin, stepping forward to hug him. His arms wrapped around you briefly, his touch warm but hesitant. You smiled before turning and walking over to the elevator. You missed your family, and now it felt a little closer to being pieced back together. 

You gave a debrief of the plan for the day, as there was plenty you could do on your own later. Though you were grateful to Xavier for helping you get a place, it needed…tlc. The boys agreed to help you move bulky items and clean up the remnants of a bug treatment. 

The boys retreated to the lobby—they had to move a couch and some other, far too heavy things. The three of you had been friends for years, bickering and fighting like siblings, but never with ill intent. Though Caleb and Zayne constantly teased each other more recently than anything, you weren’t sure what was a joke anymore. 

Your body jolted. A sound of a shout came from the hallway, distracting you from sweeping. 

“Damn—Zayne, pull up the couch—” Caleb strained and bit out. 

“You’re the one who’s not paying attention,” Zayne shot back calmly. 

You walked up to the unfolding scene, your hands resting on your hips when you approached them. The couch was now on the tile of the apartment hallway. You were glad they didn’t break your stuff while they messed around.

“And… Why is my couch on the ground?” you asked, your gaze shooting between them. 

“It seems Caleb’s grip slipped,” Zayne quipped. You could feel the air quotes around the last portion of his statement. His hands were resting on his hips as his breathing slowed and evened out.

“I just need a second—I’m sweating over here,” Caleb said, a deep breath coming from his lips. 

You watched as he lifted his shirt. His jeans rested low on his hips as he lifted the fabric, you could see faint trails of hair leading down his abdomen. He had a vein running above his hip to below his pants. 

Your eyes betrayed you as you shamelessly traced his body. Fuck, he looked good.

Zayne watched you in silence, observing, watching the surprise on your face when Caleb lifted his shirt. And he did not like it. First, why did Caleb always do shit like that, but besides, why did you seem to like it so much.

The three of you worked together to tackle the chaos of the moving day. With the bulky items moved, Caleb helped you clean the kitchen while Zayne focused on the living room. You stood on your tippy toes, wiping the cabinet the best you could, stretching to reach the top shelf. Caleb moved in behind you, his body brushing against yours. 

“Let me get that,” he said, his voice soft as he grabbed the cloth from your hand.

Your breath hitched as his warmth seeped through your back. His fingers brushed yours briefly, sending a jolt through you. You moved aside, trying to compose yourself. He stepped to the side after finishing, leaning onto the counter, “Why don’t I take over this part, since you’re so small?” a playful grin played on his lips, as he winked at you. 

“Always picking on my size,” you joked, your voice shaky. “Maybe you’re just too tall.”

His grin widened, but something in his gaze lingered a moment too long. “...Maybe,” he murmured, his voice low.

From the corner of the room, Zayne’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen. His hand paused mid-swipe on the wall, his eyes narrowing at seeing Caleb leaning close to you. His grip on the rag tightened, but he quickly looked away. This wasn’t the time.

You noticed all his progress when you made your way to Zayne. He almost successfully cleared the living room. “Can I help?” you said, approaching his side. 

Zayne’s lips quirked into a slight smirk. “I figured you’d be too busy with Caleb to remember me.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you shot back, an uncomfortable laugh leaving your lips.

He attached the extended handle before handing you the mop, his fingers brushing yours slightly. “Guess I’ll have to remind you why I’m the favorite,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. 

☆

You fell into a routine in the following weeks, trying to adjust to your new life. Weekly meetups with Caleb became a ritual, and today, you waited for him at a quaint coffee shop Zayne had introduced you to. The warm smell of coffee and pastries filled the air as you spotted Caleb walking in, his black coat framing his tall figure.

“Y/N!” he called out, his smile lighting up. He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground for a moment.

When he set you down, his eyes held yours for a beat too long. Your stomach flipped as you sat across from him, trying to steady your thoughts.

You began your catch-up over a coffee and some food. Your discussion filled the silence, and you shared a laugh while discussing the latest work drama. You clued Caleb into the details about your coworker, and how the Hunter’s Association locked his file.

It was pretty peculiar in your field; most hunters had a public record, released by the organization they resided under, but in his case, it wasn’t as easily accessible, making him a high-profile individual. Which just made you curious. As talented as you were you couldn’t help but notice the difference in skills between the two of you. It was so obvious he’d been at this longer than you. 

Caleb listened intently as you shared the latest work news, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup.

“And what are you going to do about it?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Detective work?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “I don’t know. It feels like I’d be invading his privacy. I guess—I’ll wait for him to tell me when he’s ready.”

Caleb’s gaze softened. “That’s just like you,” he said quietly, his purple eyes glinting in the light.

Before you could process his words, your watch buzzed with an alarm. “I gotta get back to work,” you said, grabbing your things in a rush.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said, gesturing to the table. “See you later.”

It was a lighter cold today, and no heavy snow blocked your path. As you walked back to work, you were honestly heavy in thought. You couldn’t stop thinking about Caleb. His smiles and touches felt deliberate, and you had no idea how to handle it. Dating had always been a mystery to you, and your nerves weren’t helping.  

This wasn’t the first time these nerves graced your presence. When you were much younger, you recall the party, the smell of alcohol, the loud music, and unfamiliar faces. You knew Zayne and Caleb of course, but them being a bit older than you made this crowd—one you hadn’t been exposed to before.

Making your way through the door was the worst. Caleb knew everyone, saying “hellos,” “hi’s,” and “what’s up, dude,” as he led the way. Making your way through the moving bodies was a challenge. You were thankful for Zayne’s hand holding onto yours as you made the way. You scanned the crowd, and everyone was dancing. The number of people grinding on others was mesmerizing, and you wanted in.

The music thudded through the walls, pounding against your ears. You remember making your way up the stairs, following closely behind Caleb, as Zayne sandwiched in behind you, finally letting go of your hand. Honestly, this didn’t seem like Zayne’s type of crowd, and he wasn’t the most outgoing. 

When you reached the room, it had fewer people than the rest of the house. You walked in, sitting on the couch while Zayne stood near the corner of the room. Some people sat in a circle with a bottle in the center, obviously playing a game. One of the girls asked if you and the boys wanted to join. 

You could feel the eyes of two important men in your life shift to you. Both were curious about your response. 

“...yeah.” 

Caleb also joined the game, sitting directly across from you. A girl with blonde hair spun the bottle, and before you knew it, it was your turn. 

Placing your hand on the bottleneck, you spun the bottle, watching its turning motion with curiosity. When it stopped on Caleb, the purple of his eyes glinted as he looked between you and the bottle. 

You could hear the circle of people urging you both on. It was just a kiss. You could do this. He’s your friend. You sat up on your heels, your hands burning as they rested on your knees. 

He got close to you and whispered, “Ready?” only for your ears to hear, and he kissed you, his lips connecting with yours softly, sweetly. Some people teased him for the gentleness at which his lips touched yours, but something shot through you when his lips touched yours. He softly bit your bottom lip before he pulled back from you. 

He kissed you. Zayne saw, everyone saw, and you liked it. 

You needed advice—something solid to guide your next move. You’d already admitted to yourself that you liked him, but how were you supposed to approach this? What did you even say? Zayne helped you through that kiss, reminding you it was just a game. But all these years later, you wanted to be more than a game to Caleb. Even in your shared youth, he had good advice for you, so why wouldn’t you trust him?

When you arrived at the office, your mind was still a tangled mess, buzzing with uncertainty. You decided it was no use overthinking it; it was better to rip the bandaid off.

You pulled out your phone, hesitating for a moment before texting Zayne:

You:

“Can I call you? I need some advice.”

When his reply came moments later—“I have a patient right now. I’ll call you after.”—you let out a relieved sigh. You trusted him, and you needed his help.

Relief washed over you as you read his reply, your heartbeat finally slowing to a steady rhythm. You let out a soft sigh, tucking your phone away. All you had to do now was organize your thoughts.

While you waited, you turned to your caseload, focusing on the profile you’d been compiling for a new wanderer-type you’d encountered during a hunt weeks earlier. Using old files as templates, you typed furiously, the steady rhythm of the keyboard pulling you into the zone. Minutes turned to hours as you worked, the world fading into the background.

The buzzing of your phone jolted you back to reality. You glanced at the screen and barely caught the call before it went to voicemail.

“You want me to teach you how to date?” Zayne’s voice drawled through the line, laced with amusement.

Heat rushed to your face as you groaned audibly. “That’s not—it’s not like that!” you blurted, but Zayne only chuckled softly.

You spent the next ten minutes stumbling through your explanation, your words tangling as you tried to paint a coherent picture of your situation. When you finally stopped, waiting anxiously for his response, all he said was:

“Okay.”

That one word was enough to knock the wind out of you. “Okay?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he confirmed calmly.

Your heart soared. “Okay, then,” you echoed quickly, trying to mask your nervous excitement. You rushed to thank Zayne before ending the call, clutching the phone to your chest. Relief and joy bubbled inside you. You knew Zayne would come through for you. You trusted him completely.

On the other end of the call, Zayne set his phone on his desk, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. He began packing up for the day, shaking his head in amusement. The idea of you coming to him for dating advice was equal parts endearing and intriguing.

Of course, he would help you. That much was never in question. But who had caught your interest so suddenly? The thought gnawed at him, tempting him to ask outright, but he resisted. He’d figure it out eventually.

As he picked up his phone to draft a response, a quiet laugh escaped him. “Lessons,” he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue with amusement. He couldn’t help but smirk as he began typing out a plan. Lessons in dating and seduction? If anyone was going to help you succeed, it was him.

☆

Your phone buzzed with details for your first lesson. You had to admit you were quite excited. When you open the message, you read simple instructions:

Zayne:

“I’ll pick you up at 7 pm. Wear something nice, but comfortable.” 

A quiet scoff escaped your lips as you gripped your phone, its cool metal grounding you—way to give me nothing, Zayne. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as you typed back.

You:

“Got it.” 

With a rare day off, you had more than enough time to overthink this date—or, well, lesson. You'd been on dates before, but this felt different—important. You wanted to impress Caleb later, but you also wanted to enjoy this with Zayne and learn from him.

Determined, you took your time getting ready—a long bath, smooth and refreshed skin, natural hairstyle, skipping the heat of flat irons. Your makeup was subtle, accentuating your best features—your eyes and lips. The outfit? Simple, with an effortless elegance: a black skirt, a beige sweater, and knee-high black boots. Something nice but comfortable, you echoed mockingly in your head.

The doorbell rang. Your pulse quickened. Taking a deep breath, you cracked the door open.

“I’m grabbing my bag—give me a sec,” you said quickly before shutting it again.

Zayne chuckled softly on the other side. You looked nervous, and he thought it was cute.

When you finally stepped out, his eyes swept over you, approval flashing in his gaze. “Ready?” His voice was warm, familiar.

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah.”

Locking up, you stepped beside him, weaving through the apartment halls. The elevator was packed when it arrived, leaving just enough room for the two of you to squeeze in. When the doors slid shut, the crowd's pressure pushed you toward the back corner of the elevator.

Zayne stepped in after you, his body instinctively blocking the others from pressing too close. His warmth enveloped you, a wall of quiet protection. When his chest brushed against yours, your head shot up, startled by the contact—only to knock it against the cold metal wall behind you.

A low groan slipped from your lips, and Zayne chuckled. “Careful.” His hand came up, cupping the back of your head gently.

You stilled. Zayne’s touch was light but steady, fingers warm against your scalp. You let yourself settle into it for just a second, your cheeks heating.

Then, with a soft ding, the doors slid open. The moment was gone.

You followed him out quickly, slipping into his car. The silence was thick but not uncomfortable. Still, you were the first to break it.

“So… where are we going?” you asked, anticipation bubbling beneath your skin.

Zayne’s grip tightened subtly around the gear shift, veins visible against his skin. His lips curled into a faint smile. “You’ll see.”

—

You hadn’t expected this.

The setup was breathtaking—candles flickering softly, a picnic blanket spread on the grass by a lake, and wildflowers scattered around like nature’s own confetti. The crisp spring air carried the scent of earth and blooming petals, a reminder that winter’s grasp was finally loosening. The sun had just begun its descent, casting everything in golden light.

Zayne stood behind you, watching. He caught how your breath hitched and how awe softened your features. The faint flush that always seemed to bloom when he was near. He reveled in it.

“Lesson one,” he murmured. “A date.”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Zayne, this is…” Your voice wavered with something close to wonder. “This is perfect.”

A small, knowing smile touched his lips.

You hesitated. “I’ve never really—” You exhaled. “So… what do we do now?”

He motioned for you to sit. “First? We eat.”

You obeyed, watching as he unpacked the meal. Your gaze flickered over the assortment of sweets tucked beside the entrees, and you bit your lip. He remembered your sweet tooth.

Your heart squeezed.

He handed you a sandwich—one of your childhood favorites. You took a bite, savoring the familiar flavors and the quiet thoughtfulness behind it.

The evening unfolded like something out of a dream. The conversation was easy and flowing, as it always was between you two. You talked about everything and nothing, letting the city fade away, and the wine in your glass disappeared far too quickly.

At some point, you made the mistake of looking at him.

The sunset bathed him in amber light, the gentle hues accentuating the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint green specks in his eyes. He looked beautiful—effortlessly so. The sleeves of his powder blue dress shirt rolled up, revealing strong forearms, veins pronounced as his fingers idly toyed with the rim of his glass.

His gaze lifted, catching yours.

You panicked. Tipped your head back, draining the last of your wine, pretending to admire the sky.

And so the night went on.

Laughter. Warmth. The kind of company that made the world feel a little less lonely. It had been too long since you’d felt this way.

Maybe that was why—

—why you ended up tipsy.

The last thing you remembered clearly was Zayne’s hands on your waist, steadying you as you stumbled at your door. His voice, amused and gentle, coaxing you inside.

And then—

"You're drunk."

His voice was strained.

Your skin burned. “N ‘m not,” you murmured, reaching up, fingers clumsily ruffling his hair. “I w’nted to kiss you, Z-Zayne…”

His breath hitched.

You wobbled onto your tiptoes, pressing a sleepy, featherlight kiss to his cheek. “G’night, Zayne~”

Darkness.

And then—morning.

Your head throbbed. You groaned, pressing your palm to your forehead, and then—

The memory came rushing back.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.

What did you do?

You kissed Zayne—just a kiss on the cheek, but no less a kiss. And you didn’t know how you felt about it. Maybe you liked it. And when you checked your phone, your heart skipped a beat. 

Zayne:

“Are you feeling better?”

It was a simple question, but your body felt warm, and a smile tugged at your lips as the cold metal burned your hand. 

You:

“Yes, I’m still a bit warm, but much better :)”

And from there the conversation flowed. 

Zayne: 

“So you’re ready for your next lesson?”

You:

“Duh.”

☆

This lesson was set up differently—as a more casual experience. Zayne held the door open, allowing you to enter as the scent of perfumes and faint traces of liquor—something you planned to avoid tonight—filled your senses.

Zayne trailed closely behind you, his eyes drawn to your fitted black dress. It hugged your curves just right, and while you were always beautiful, tonight, you looked divine. His gaze lingered, but he didn’t say a word, instead committing the image to memory.

You settled into the plush velvet seat, crossing your legs as you waited for him to join you. The slight pressure of the fabric against your skin and the low hum of jazz music set a tone of subtle sophistication.

“Lesson two,” he murmured as he sat beside you. “Body language.”

A sly smile crept onto your lips. This time, you were ready. Beyond your carefully chosen outfit, you had mentally prepared to hold your ground. Tonight, you would stay in control.

“So, what’s the plan today, Zayne?” you drawled, leaning forward as your fingers lightly brushed his bicep. You pretended it was a casual touch, but the way his muscles flexed beneath your fingertips sent a jolt through you.

Zayne tilted his head slightly, studying your face. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “You’re already ahead, princess,” he whispered, his voice low. The words felt like a direct hit to your resolve.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, your lips parted as you scrambled to regain composure. “Head start?” you echoed, tilting your head and trying to sound nonchalant.

"I want to see what you've learned—think you can charm me?" he said simply.

The lounge was an upscale dream: dimly lit, lined with high-end paintings, and filled with the smooth rhythm of jazz. The swaying figures on the dance floor moved in tandem with the music, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the scene.

Leaning in closer to Zayne, you brushed your lips near his ear. “Should we dance?” you whispered, your hand steadying yourself on his knee.

The scent of his cologne—clean with a faint hint of jasmine—enveloped you. You felt his gaze sharpen, and when you pulled back slightly to meet his eyes, the faint green specks in them seemed to glow under the low light.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice smooth, as he stood and offered you his hand.

On the dance floor, your movements flowed easily, the music guiding you. You pulled him closer, and your body pressed flush against his. His hands rested on your lower back, firm and grounding, while your fingers trailed up his chest. The hard muscle beneath your touch sent a thrill through you.

“You look so handsome tonight, Zayne,” you said softly, your lips curving into a small smile.

“Only tonight?” he teased, the corners of his mouth lifting.

Your finger traced lazy patterns on his chest. His heartbeat was steady initially, but you noticed the slight quickening as your touch lingered. You looked up at him, your gaze filled with something unspoken but deeply felt.

“You always do,” you whispered.

The air between you was charged, the tension pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, grounding you while simultaneously making you feel like you might float away.

When the tempo picked up, you spun away from him, creating a bit of distance as you swayed more freely. He matched your rhythm more stiffly than anything. You couldn’t help but smile—this was fun.

“You’re way too stiff,” you said, getting close to him. Watching him try to whine his hips to the upbeat tempo was amazing. A laugh left your lips as your hands gripped his hips. “Why are your feet so close together?!” you choked out. 

“I was never a dancer,” he said flatly, unamused by the tears in your eyes. 

“Move to the beat,” you said again, trying to show him the way, but he didn’t get it. If you asked him, he’d rather watch you move your body. You moved beautifully, rolling your hips with precision.

When the lounge prepared to close, your cheeks ached from grinning, and your legs were deliciously sore. You shivered slightly as you walked side by side through the chilly night air.

“You look cold,” Zayne said, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders before you could protest.

The warmth of the fabric—and his scent—wrapped around you. A soft, rich aroma of jasmine and something distinctly him made your heart flutter.

You nudged his arm, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “You know… I think this was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

“I haven’t danced like that in forever.” you said.

“How could I forget?” he replied, his eyes briefly flicking to the stars above. “It’s your favorite thing.”

His fingers brushed against yours, tentative at first. You took the leap, intertwining your fingers with his. The warmth of his hand sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you caught the faint blush dusting his cheeks.

This man was everything.

☆

Later That Week

You had agreed to meet Caleb for a more eventful hangout—to meet downtown and do whatever caught your eye. 

You spotted him easily. His tall figure towered over most people. You walked up to him, and he hugged you tightly. The warmth of his body covered yours, but it didn’t raise your heartbeat. 

When he loosened his grip on you, his hands rested on your shoulders, “Long time no see, pipsqueak,” he said, his voice full of joy. 

Your cheeks felt tight from smiling—you were happy to see him, but not for the same reasons as before.

“I know, it’s been a few weeks,” you said, pulling back from him and looking into the purple of his eyes. “Let’s get back on schedule,” you breathed, a light smile plastered on your lips. 

Work had been busy, but the truth was that your lessons with Zayne had occupied your thoughts—and your time.

While you started your walk downtown, plenty of things caught your eye. The first thing you did was enter a record shop. The store was in the basement off of a side street. It was a little creepy, but it looked like an underground studio once you got inside. Records were all over the shop, on the wall, and in little baskets stacked in rows. 

He browsed next to you, shuffling through the records occasionally showing you one he thought you’d like or an album you’d enjoyed. And in spending this time with him, you realized that you enjoyed this. 

The simplicity between you, the light air, and the lack of expectations for anything more was all you needed. Caleb’s fingers softly brushed yours as he placed a vinyl behind the one you held up for him.

“Find anything good?” you asked, your feet planted evenly on the ground as you turned to face Caleb. 

His eyes bore into yours, something flickering over them before he answered you.

 “Nah—let's get some food,” he said quickly, his demeanor suddenly returning.

Exiting the store, you joined in step beside him, exploring the city's night scene. Your options were endless as you scanned the shops that lined the streets. You spotted a food truck and the smells coming from it were amazing. 

Altering Caleb, you both sat at the outdoor seating, waiting for your orders. The chill of the evening air seeped through your clothes, making you shiver slightly.

“Do you want my jacket?” Caleb asked, his tone playful. “You look like you’re freezing.”

“Only if you have an extra,” you said, bouncing your leg under the table to keep warm.

With a smirk, he reached into his bag and handed you a spare coat. “You’re my best friend, You know I always do.”

You slipped it on, grateful for the warmth but… that was it. There was no spark, no flutter of excitement. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, adjusting the collar and wrapping it tighter around yourself, but it felt like just a jacket.

In the quiet moment that followed, your mind drifted back to Zayne. His jacket had enveloped you in warmth and scent, and your heart raced when he was near. You glanced at Caleb, who was busy watching the street outside.

Nothing. That kiss was—just a kiss. Years ago, you wouldn’t have believed anyone. Not even Zayne could have convinced you it was a fleeting crush. But it really was. You felt proper chemistry, companionship, and care and wanted to keep experiencing that with Zayne.

The weight of your realization was crushing. All the time you spent—wasted on this man. You cared for him, you truly did. But, what about you? Why were you so pent-up and focused on this person you didn't even really like? Was it really him you missed? Or just how he filled your time and made you feel small—safe, even?

That's the point. You’re not small. You're a grown woman who can stand independently, make her own decisions, and provide her own entertainment. Relief washed over you in waves because what were you even doing? Holding onto a version of the past that no longer fits?

But right behind it, sadness crept in. Not for Caleb, but for the time lost—chasing something never meant to be yours. But you didn’t truly waste time if it led you here—to someone real. To Zayne.

You forced a smile, staring down at your lap, and tried to push away the sinking feeling in your chest. You used to admire Caleb. It should feel special, especially his attention and time, but—it doesn’t. 

Caleb was the person you had wanted—the reason for the lessons.

The contrast was stark, undeniable. And for the first time, you realized the answer had been clear.

☆

You had admitted to Zayne that you wanted a cozy evening. Work had drained you, but more than anything, your recent realization had knocked the wind out of you. It wasn’t just an idle thought—the truth that settled deep in your bones, undeniable yet terrifying.

You knew what you needed to say and do, but the effort of voicing it—of being honest with Zayne—made your nerves coil tight.

Your lessons have helped. You felt more confident, more self-assured. You understood what a date was supposed to be now, what it meant to be courted and wanted. But more than anything, you wanted something real.

With him.

So, he invited you over after work.

Zayne:

"How about I cook you dinner, and we watch a movie?"

You:

"How do you always know exactly what I need?"

…

Zayne:

"Make yourself at home. I just finished setting up."

When you arrived at his house, the living room instantly warmed you. The room glowed softly from the candles he had lined along the tables, their flickering light casting gentle shadows against the walls. The scent of something rich and savory drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint traces of his cologne.

But the sight of something familiar made your heart catch in your chest—small plushies, the ones you had won years ago, still resting on the couch.

He had kept them.

Your fingers grazed one absentmindedly as you took it all in, a lump forming in your throat.

You didn’t miss the sound of the shower running from the other room, and heat bloomed across your face. The thought of him stepping out—steam rising, droplets tracing the planes of his skin—sent your mind spiraling. He had just gotten off work, yet he still made time to set everything up for you.

As if on cue, the water stopped. A moment later, the door cracked open, and Zayne walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, another in his hands as he ruffled it through his damp black hair.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “Have a seat.”

Then, as if completely unaware of his effect on you, he strode into his bedroom and shut the door with a soft click.

You swallowed hard. That lasted less than a second, but it was enough.

His physique was unreal—his lean yet defined frame, the way his skin still glistened slightly, the tantalizing trail of hair disappearing beneath the towel… and God, you wanted to know where it led.

This was new. You had never felt this way before.

And he was making you crazy.

You forced yourself to move, settling onto the couch, trying to calm your racing heart as you waited for him. You distracted yourself with the snacks he had spread across the table, but your mind kept replaying that brief glimpse of him.

When he finally reappeared, dressed in a fitted shirt and sweatpants, looking effortlessly breathtaking, your breath caught in your throat.

Something about this moment—the candlelight, the scent of dinner lingering in the air, the sheer intimacy of being here with him—felt so real. So domestic. So much like something you wanted forever.

Zayne disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you in the glow of candlelight. A few moments later, he emerged with two plates in hand, setting them down on the dining table before motioning for you to sit.

“Did you make all of this?” you asked, raising a brow as you took in the spread before you.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, settling across from you. “I figured you’d appreciate a home-cooked meal after the week you’ve had.”

Your heart ached at how thoughtful he was.

The meal was warm and comforting—just like him. You took a bite, letting the rich flavors settle on your tongue and savoring the moment. Zayne watched you carefully, his gaze flicking to your lips before he took a bite of his own food.

“This is really good,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “You’re full of surprises.”

He smirked slightly, tilting his head. “You act like you don’t already know I’m good with my hands.”

Your fork stalled mid-air. Heat crawled up your neck as your eyes snapped to his.

Zayne smirked slightly, taking another bite as if he hadn’t set your whole body on fire with that one sentence.

Your stomach twisted, and it had nothing to do with the food.

“I—” You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure. “I suppose I do.”

His gaze flickered with amusement before he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood. Something was intoxicating about the way he watched you. It was like he was reading every thought running through your head.

The tension built slowly, lingering between every glance, every soft smile exchanged over the rim of your glasses.

At some point, his foot brushed against yours beneath the table. It was barely a touch—so light it could’ve been an accident. But when you met his gaze, you knew it wasn’t.

Neither of you spoke on it. Neither of you moved away.

It was almost unbearable, the weight of the moment, the way the air grew heavier, tighter.

After dinner, you both moved to the couch. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more devastatingly handsome than usual.

You curled next to him as he flipped through the streaming options before settling on something. Not that it really mattered—you could barely focus because of how close he was.

The movie played, but you weren’t watching.

You were too aware of Zayne’s presence, the warmth of his arm resting along the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder. Every tiny touch sent a current through you.

Then, in the middle of a scene, Zayne suddenly reached for the remote.

Click.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

Your phone started ringing, now of all times, and you dropped your gaze to the device at the same time as Zayne. 

Caleb calls all the time, but the timing of this was just—it couldn’t be a coincidence. And you weren’t sure if you should answer. 

“Don’t pick it up,” was all you heard, as you gripped the metal of your phone tighter. 

“Why,” you whispered, your voice small now. The confidence you had before flickered, unsteady—like a candle caught in the wind. You felt tender, exposed. Unsure if you had the strength to do what needed to be done.

“I know you wanted lessons, because of Caleb,” he started, his eyes meeting yours. The air felt cooler now, and goosebumps ran over your skin. 

"I can’t do this if you’re still holding onto him," he murmured, his voice steady—but stretched thin, like he was barely holding himself together.

“I can’t bear to see you with him—now that your presence has graced me, I see small pieces of you everywhere I go,” he admitted, his voice soft and tortured. 

Zayne exhaled through his nose,  running a hand through his dark hair before finally speaking.

“I don’t want you to want Caleb—I want you to want me” he breathed.

The screen froze mid-ring. A silence stretched between you—thick, suffocating. Heavy with everything left unsaid.

Your brows furrowed as you turned to him, only to find his gaze already on you—serious, searching.

Your breath hitched.

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, heavy and unshakable.

You swallowed. Say it.

“I thought I wanted to be with another man, Zayne…” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He tensed slightly, his jaw tightening, but you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“But I don’t,” you continued softly, eyes searching his. “I want this. I want you.”

The words left you in a breath, raw and real.

Zayne didn’t move, didn’t speak right away. But you saw how his eyes darkened, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Please, Zayne,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as you leaned in.

Your breath stilled, heart hammering. He was too close—his scent, the warmth radiating from his skin, the slight tremor in his breath. And then… finally, you leaned in, and he met you halfway.

You pulled back slightly, your breaths intertwining in the room's dimness. Your eyes opened tentatively, and you saw Zayne staring at you, his chest heaving from the kiss you had just shared. 

“Again,” you murmured, a silent plea because now that you were here you couldn’t let this pass. And Zayne obeyed, kissing you again. You could feel him shifting your position. His hands found your back, and he briefly disconnected your lips to lay you on the couch. 

His knees straddled your hips, as he just watched you, “Beautiful,” he whispered before tasting your lips again, the weight of him on top of you was not only delicious but welcome. You gasped at the pressure, and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. A groan escaped your mouth when his tongue entered your lips. 

“Wait,” you said, your hands resting on Zayne’s chest as he lay on you. 

“I’ve never done this before,” you said, noticing the clench of his jaw, flushed face, and swollen lips. 

He waited for a beat, watching you silently, “I’ll take care of you, princess,” he exhaled.

“I don’t have much experience,” he admitted, his gaze shifting from yours.

Your eyes widened with shock at his admission. You had assumed he was experienced, and that was part of the reason you asked him for help. 

You took a breath, smiling at him. " Let's learn together,” you whispered in his ear before leaning your head back and resting it against the pillow. 

You pulled him flush against you, his weight pressing you into the couch. He began his thorough search kissing your temple, to the crux of your ear, “Another lesson, …hm?” he whispered. And that caused you to writhe beneath him—the sound of his voice in your ear, and the soft vibrato of his confirmation. 

He began his steady exploration with his lips and hands. Stroking up and down your body, though most of it covered, the cool of his hands made your skin get chills when he touched you. 

“Can I take this off?” he asked, gesturing to your t-shirt. 

“Yes,” you said too quickly, embarrassed by your eagerness. 

You adjusted your body, allowing him to pull the fabric over your head. You lay there sitting up on your forearms, just watching his explorative touch. His pointer finger traced the outline of your bra, hovering just above your skin. 

“You—” you started, biting the fat of your lip, “Zayne, I want you to take this off too.” 

And those emerald eyes watched you. In his head, he couldn’t believe you would be his—already prepared to memorize your every reaction. His hand trembled before steadying against your skin. The contact of his hand caused you to arch away from the couch. Click.

The bra fell forward as you shrugged it off your arms. Your whole body felt warm as you guided Zayne’s hands to hold your breasts. Your hands rested on his before you moved them back to the couch. His thumbs felt the hardening peaks beneath his hands, and he gave them a tentative flick, watching your face. You squirmed beneath him. 

Sensitive here. He made a mental note, before rubbing the hardened nub against his thumb at a steady pace. 

He moved his mouth to your other breast kissing it, before watching your face as his tongue made contact with it. Your hips jerked forward gently when he flicked it with his tongue. You bit your lip watching him play with your nipples. 

“Can—you touch me there?” you whimpered. His lips parted from your nipple. 

“Where?” he asked, and both of you just looked at each other. 

Before you took his hand and brought it between your legs. You held it there rubbing yourself on his hand through your pants, but you didn't miss the way Zayne trained his eyes on you. Watching each little reaction you had when he touched you. Even the lightest of touch made his lips part slightly even with the furious flush of his skin. 

His cock was straining in his pants, but he waited, wanting to learn you first.

He laid you down, your hands threading into his hair. Pulling him close to you he buried his face in your neck. The smell of jasmine filled your senses, as he groaned beneath you, breathing in your scent. You leaned back into the couch, shaken by the idea of him on top of you.

Your breasts pressed against his chest, the cool fabric causing a shiver to roll through you. He ran his face up and down your neck leaving a trail of light kisses. It was as if he was savoring you, imprinting your smell, your presence in his mind—as if you’d be done with him after this.

“You’re beautiful,” he groaned against your throat.

Zayne steadied himself on his hands on either side of your head, his gaze trailing over your body to where he would find himself next. His eyes stopped between your thighs, he watched intently as you squirmed beneath him, your body shifting under his gaze.

Your heartbeat felt loud in your ears, and the cold stillness of the air sent a shiver through you. His lips found your jaw, kissing a slow line tracing to your throat. Each touch of his lips sent heat between your legs, and you tilted your head to give him more access, a whimper escaping your lips. 

Zayne was just a friend, someone who supported and loved you but someone you felt you couldn’t have. Your change of heart made you act on a whim to take advantage of your time with him. You wanted him, and no one else could have him but you. He was a high you couldn't—didn't want to get rid of. 

You grasped the blankets on the couch, trying to ground yourself somehow, while he worked slow kisses down your chest with light scrapes of his teeth.

His hands ran down your sides, caressing your breasts to your hips, his thumbs brushing the naked skin beneath your sweatpants. It was a maddening sensation, and you only wanted him to keep going.

You could see his erection pressed firmly against his pants, and you felt tempted to reach forward, to touch it. To pull him closer firmly against you, to feel him where you needed him most. 

One of his hands left you cupping you over your pants. The pressure against your clit stole your breath. A quiet groan of approval left his lips, while you felt a pulse between your legs.

You ground your hips upwards into his hand. A breath left your lips as you moved your hips. 

“Touch me, Zayne,” you breathed, you felt like you were in a dream. 

He paused, his breath hitching at your words. His gaze darkened, the green of his eyes barely visible, as he searched your face. His jaw clenched, his voice dropping, rough with restraint. “Say that again.”

You observed him, grabbing the drawstrings of his pants. “Touch me Zayne, …Please” Your voice came out small, pleading. 

He exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching against your skin. He traced your pussy through your pants, his fingers burning through your pants—that you wished he’d taken off already. 

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his thumb brushing over you, his touch reverent, like he was memorizing you.

You had never been undressed like this. And you wanted it, you wanted to be touched by him, to feel him grabbing you.

He gripped the waistband of your pants, adjusting his position to push them down your thighs, dropping them to the floor. You sat there in only black underwear while he sat across from you, still in his t-shirt and sweats. 

His attention was all yours, and it was thrilling. 

Your hands still gripped the blanket beneath you. Your feet were tucked next to your bottom. 

“Let me see you.” His voice was low and deliberate. His fingertips grazed your knee before applying the faintest pressure. His eyes searched yours, waiting. “Spread your legs for me.”

You took in an unsteady breath, and you did it. 

His hands ran up your legs, his fingers pressing into your thighs, making your stomach tighten unexpectedly. The cool of his hands felt good against your soft skin. 

The cool air brushed against your panties making you aware of how wet your panties were. Zayne’s gaze met you there, shooting warmth through you.

Your breath hitched when his thumb pressed down on your clit through the fabric. His other hand was steady on your thigh, pressing your thighs open wider. The brush of his thumb up and down sparked a heat in your lower stomach.

You leaned your head back and started to rock under his touch. And then he kissed your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He groaned, licking and sucking your breasts with a slight scrape of teeth. A high-pitched moan escaped your lips, one of your hands gripping his hair. 

His mouth was so hot, and he kept licking you, how you’d never felt before. You felt like you could die. So, when he removed his mouth from your breasts, you thought you were going to scream. 

He removed your underwear, leaving them in a pile with the rest of your clothes, spreading your legs once more as his gaze fell between your thighs. 

His fingers glide gently along your inner thigh, his touch warm and deliberate, but never rushed. His gaze softens as he takes you in, his breathing slow, controlled—like he’s memorizing every part of you.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice hushed, almost reverent. His thumb stroked lazy circles against your skin, a silent reassurance, a quiet promise that he won’t rush you.

When you nodded, his lips part slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, searching—making sure.

"Let me take care of you," he breathed, his hands smoothing up your thighs as he leaned in closer, pressing a lingering kiss just above your knee. "I want to make this good for you."

He wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and his head lowered between them. You shuddered at the first touch of his tongue, pleasure running through you. Each soft lap of your clit rolled through you. 

His arms held you so securely that you couldn’t move your hips while he licked you. As much as he said he wanted to take care of you, it felt like he was doing this for himself. 

“Zayne,” you moaned, digging your hands into his thick black hair. 

He swirled his tongue over your clit before sucking. His eyes were on you, watching you writhe beneath him. His finger filled you, sending a tremor through you, with his mouth on your clit, licking and sucking, while his fingers moved in and out of you. And he did it with such ease, deep noises of satisfaction falling from his lips. 

He was taking his time, slowly working you out and the pressure was building up in you. You bucked your hips, feeling the heat growing throughout you. 

“Zayne…I need more,” you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered it with slow, calculated movements—his pace steady, yet devastating. He added another finger, stretching you further, his touch unrelenting as he pressed deeper, curling just right. The pleasure was unbearable in the best way, a wave crashing over you with no hope of escape.

Your breath hitched as his dark, heated gaze met yours, watching, reading every reaction like it was the only thing that mattered. His free hand smoothed over your thigh, grounding you, soothing you—only to bring you higher moments later.

A choked-out plea left your lips, your body arching, back curving as the heat coursed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach. You clenched around him, muscles tightening as that sharp, dizzying pleasure built to a breaking point.

“That's it,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable, something possessive yet achingly tender. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the soft skin of your inner thigh, his breath hot and teasing, sending shivers up your spine.

And then—release.

Your body trembled, pleasure crashing into you in relentless waves. He didn't stop, not right away, working you through it, coaxing every last aftershock from your sensitive body until you were completely spent.

You collapsed against the couch, fully fucked out, limbs heavy, your mind hazy with bliss. 

A shaky breath left your mouth, as you sat up slowly running your fingers through his hair.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

The air between you was charged, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous. Something real.

His jasmine scent invaded your senses as his body wrapped around yours. You closed your eyes, surprised by the sudden upward jerk of him holding your naked body. You held him close as he carried you to the closed bedroom door. 

He laid you on the bed gently, holding your stare, he slipped off his shirt and sweatpants, your cheeks growing warmer even as he stood before you in his briefs. You glanced at his erection pressed through the fabric. He was so hard, and it was hot. And all for you. 

Goose bumps spread across your skin, as he opened the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom. 

“Do you want me?” he whispered, his gaze meeting yours, as he dropped his briefs. 

“Yes,” you breathed.

He crawled over you, kissing your stomach and breasts as he did. His body covered yours, so heavy. It made your skin sing with satisfaction. He kissed your neck, bracing his hands beside your head. 

Your fingers trailed the line of hair, you'd been desperate to touch. You hesitated, unsure how to touch him. 

Zayne felt your hesitation, and meeting your gaze, he whispered, “Your touch… I need it.”

Your heart fluttered with uncertainty, but you slid your hands down gripping his erection. His forehead fell on the side of your neck, encouraging you further. 

You wrapped your hand around his length. And he groaned. You ran your hand down to the base and all the way back up. 

"Don’t make me wait…please" you whispered in his ear, placing a kiss there.

"Tell me how much you need me,” he rasped, nipping at your neck.

"I’ve always needed you, Zayne," you said softly, dragging your hands through his hair. "I need you in every way… not just tonight."

His eyes met yours before kissing you while you stroked him again. Your breasts brushed against his chest, sending pleasure through you. 

“...Please” you breathed. 

He rolled onto the bed next to you, slipping off his briefs, the sound of the wrapper crinkling in his hands drawing your attention. You watched as he poised to tear it open, his gaze flicking to yours for confirmation.

“Wait,” you whispered, your voice soft but resolute. He paused instantly, his eyes searching yours.

“I want to feel all of you,” you said, vulnerability lacing your tone, the weight of your trust hanging in the air.

His expression softened, his brow furrowing with both tenderness and concern.

“If it’s too much, just say the word,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, a promise woven into each syllable. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering as though to reassure you. Positioning himself at your entrance, his movements were deliberate, his focus entirely on you.

He took the head of his erection and rubbed it against your pussy. The tip caught your clit, causing your breath to hitch. He started to slip the head inside you, and it stung. A shudder rolled through you as you exhaled. Your fingers curled on his chest as he stayed still inside you, watching your face. 

He pushed deeper into you, his gaze dark and unwavering as he watched the way your lips parted, a soft whimper spilling free. The sound sent a shudder through his body, his breath coming out ragged as he struggled to hold himself together.

The stretch burned—a slow, intoxicating burn—one that sent heat rolling through your veins. You felt so full, every inch of him fitting into you as though he was meant to be there.

When he finally bottomed out, a cry tore from your throat, your back arching, pressing you flush against his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, his weight solid, grounding, overwhelming in the best way.

He didn’t move right away.

Instead, he stayed buried deep, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him. Your arms wound around his neck, and he exhaled against your skin, his breath warm and uneven.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your mingled breathing, the slow rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch air. He was everywhere, his presence consuming, intoxicating.

And then, he moved.

A slow, deliberate roll of his hips.

You gasped at the sensation, at the way he dragged against your walls with aching precision, each thrust filling you completely. Your nails raked down his back, and he shuddered at the sensation, his control fraying at the edges.

“You take it so good,” he praised, his voice thick, rough with something raw, something reverent. 

Every time his pelvis ground against yours, his head spread throughout you. The friction sent sparks up your spine, every movement of his body against yours pulling a new sound from your lips.

He was watching you, utterly captivated by the way you unraveled beneath him. His thrusts remained slow, deliberate, as if savoring every reaction, every little gasp and moan that escaped you.

His fingers traced down your side, over the curve of your waist, gripping you tighter as his pace deepened, intensified. His gaze burned into yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

His eyes locked onto yours, his thrusts slow and deliberate. “So beautiful for me,” he rasped, his voice low, dripping with need.

The words ran over your skin, filling you with warm satisfaction, your head tilting back as another moan escaped you. Zayne’s lips hovered above yours. With each slow thrust, they brushed yours lightly. 

His pace faltered, his rhythm stuttering as he fought for control, his breath ragged against your skin. But he didn’t dare rush—he wanted to feel every second of this, every shudder, every tremor that wracked your body beneath him.

“You’re mine… all mine,” he groaned, voice thick with possession, his body tensing, muscles drawn taut as he drove his hips deep one last time.

A choked moan escaped you as you shattered beneath him, pleasure crashing over you in waves. His grip on you tightened as his own release followed, a deep, guttural sound leaving his lips as he buried himself fully, claiming every inch of you.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, your hearts hammering in sync as he collapsed against you, his weight a comforting warmth pressing you into the mattress.

Neither of you spoke right away.

Zayne traced slow, lazy circles on your bare skin, grounding himself in the feel of you, the reality of you. His forehead rested against yours, his breath still uneven but calming, syncing with yours.

Then, in the quiet, his lips tipped into a smirk against your temple.

“So… does this mean I can finally call you my girlfriend?” His voice was lower now, teasing but laced with something real—something hopeful.

He pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours in the dim light. “Or do I have to seduce you all over again?”

His grin was cocky, but there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you—like he needed this answer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, a slow, tired smile spreading on your lips as you exhaled softly.

"I think you already have," you whispered.

The tension broke as he let out a satisfied hum, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you closer, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

And you didn’t want him to.

Not now.

Not ever.