#I wish there was more interactions between them

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Okay, here’s an interesting one.

Before seeing your content, I’d basically only ever heard the term “power fantasy” used as a derogatory term to describe over-the-top protagonists who are strong and cool, but also boringly devoid of personality so the audience can project onto them. But then some of your League videos talked about skins letting characters like Gragas “inhabit more interesting power fantasies.”

So… when are power fantasies a good thing? The best I’ve got is that it only works in interactive media like video games so that the audience can more directly engage with the fantasy (essentially: Dante from DMC works, Kirito from SAO does not)

I mean, power fantasies are just endemic to storytelling as a whole. There isn't really a hard "this is when they're good, this is when they're bad," they are core to several genres of media and can't be extracted from them. Most video games are power fantasies, just by nature of their mechanics.

Power fantasy isn't a genre (usually), it is just a tool, same as any other trope or convention. It is a means to engage the audience with a story.

An RPG where you level up and become stronger to defeat more difficult enemies? That's a power fantasy. Undertale where you get the best ending by finding some way to spare absolutely every monster and end every fight mercifully? Power fantasy. The Tomb Raider reboot games that take an almost sadistic glee in putting Lara Croft through absolute hell both physically and emotionally? Those are power fantasies about overcoming and surviving those impossible challenges.

They're not just power fantasies, they have lots of other stuff going on, but power fantasy is an inherent part of them. Romance stories also often include power fantasies, specifically about the power of love. "He's broody, dark and broken, but my love can fix him" is a power fantasy, for example, as is "an unjust society keeps us apart, but we will defy everything to be together!"

Even being The Final Girl who beats the horror monster and walks away at the end of the movie can be a power fantasy, if a rather grim one.

If there is a general case where power fantasies become "bad," I think it is when the power fantasy is all there is, and it subsumes all other parts of the story. Shonen manga often runs into this as they get longer, and the power system and escalating battles against ever more powerful foes become the overriding driving force of the story, to the exclusion of everything else. Shaman King comes to mind for me as a particularly egregious example, or Bleach.

Isekai is also riven with this. You can't walk two steps these days without tripping on a "TRANSPORTED TO ANOTHER WORLD WITH MY SUPER OP CHEAT SKILL" premise, where the entire purpose of the story is simply to act out unchallenged wish fulfilment with no friction or tension or character development. Those stories get boring very very fast... unless of course the power fantasy being played out is your specific power fantasy. Yes, OP protagonists winning everything with no challenge is boring, but this OP protagonist is building a sapphic cottagecore witch polycule with an ever-expanding harem of emotionally damaged lesbians, so... y'know. Maybe I'll give it a pass.

It's generally less interesting and useful to observe THAT something is a power fantasy, than it is to observe WHAT KIND of power is being fantasized about. Zombie apocalypse stories are often power fantasies, for example, but there's a pretty noticeable difference between stories where the power fantasy is banding together and building a life with a found family in horrible circumstances, stealing joy from the end of the world in spite of everything... and stories where the zombie apocalypse is an excuse to enact paranoid right-wing prepper fantasies where the hero protects their property (home, land and women) against the verminous hordes of the monstrous Other, and is reified and uplifted by the employment of brutal violence.

[abyssalwavezz]

zayne smut and i need it neowwwwwww do whatever you want with the plot

Impulse Control

Author's note: I know who you are anon, and this one is for you <3 that's all I've got to say LOL also if you like kpop, check out my kpop page @ta3mint bc I am trying to revive it after such a long break lol also fun fact...I think this is one of if not the longest fic I have ever written. So yeah...send in your LADS requests. It's good to be back, ya filthy animals.

Contains: Zayne x MC/YN, consent king Zayne, jealous/down bad Zayne, explicit sexual scenes with unprotected P in V (use protection irl pls), fingering (fem receiving), MC briefly on top, relatively vanilla missionary (but it’s a classic okay?) and somewhat vague hints at Zayne and MC lore if you squint

Warnings: Minors for the love of God, pls do not interact!! Sexually explicit content, adult themes, cursing, etc. and as always...no proofreading <3

Word Count: 7,872

It was no surprise that Akso Hospital was winning an award for their exemplary service to Linkon City. What was a bit of a surprise though, was Zayne taking the initiative to ask you to come to the banquet with him. He could be so hard to read sometimes, and though of course he could be thoughtful, this seemed to be a direct request, even for him.

You couldn't help but reread the texts from earlier, your heart and your mind racing in tandem.

Zayne☃️: How has your day been so far? Have you been staying hydrated? You often forget to drink enough water when you are busy.

Me: Dr. Zayne, do you text all your patients and remind them of their hydration levels?

Zayne☃️: Only the most forgetful ones.

Me: You mean there's more than one? And here I thought I was special :(

Zayne☃️: Don't fret. You are, in fact, the only patient who I perform this service for.

Me: Well in that case...I should probably go drink some water in between training sessions.

Zayne☃️: Before you go, I wanted to ask you something.

Me: Oh? I am listening (and hydrating as we speak)

Zayne☃️: The hospital is receiving a service award tonight. There will be a banquet. I was hoping you might want to come with me. After all, you have served Linkon as much as I or any of the other medical staff has. It is only fair that you are my plus one. If you want to be, of course.

Me: I would love to, Dr. Zayne. One question though...

Zayne☃️: Yes?

Me : Will there be dessert? 🧁

You had hoped the little joke about dessert would take your mind off of...everything. But it hadn't worked. You were still sitting in your desk chair, knees pulled tightly against your chest.

What did this invitation mean? Did Zayne...no. No way. There was no way he was inviting you because he saw you as something other than a friend and a patient. He said it himself, that it was only fair to invite you due to your service as a hunter.

How about you, though? What did you see Zayne as? You definitely would like to be more than friends. You couldn't help but fall for him after seeing him so often nowadays. He was everything you could have ever dreamed of in a man. But did he know about your feelings? Did he notice the amount of time you spent watching him work or study instead of focusing on your own work or training material in front of you? Did he notice you watching him even more closely during your workout sessions?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

Anyway. It was time to get ready now, and the part you dreaded most was here... Choosing what to wear.

You didn't really have many formal outfits to choose from, and you felt like the ones you did have were worn too many times. Right about now, you were wishing that Zayne had asked you earlier than the day of so you could've had more time to prepare. But honestly, would it have made a difference? Procrastinating was one of your favorite sports.

Eventually, you settled on your favorite dress.

Putting it on turned into somewhat of a chore, though. It didn't fit quite the same way as you remembered... but it had been a while since you last wore it.

Thankfully, it went on without any damage to the dress, but you couldn't help but pull at the fabric at the bottom of the dress. It was also a bit shorter than you remembered, it seemed.

And was this slit in the side always there?

Never mind that, it would have to do. There was no more time, and you still had to do your hair and makeup, as well as put on accessories to go with the dress. To be honest, you were a bit out of your comfort zone at the moment.

"Tonight better go well," you muttered to yourself.

~

The sudden noise from your phone caused you to stop what you were doing with your hair.

Grabbing it with a gloved hand, you immediately saw the text from Zayne letting you know he was waiting outside to pick you up.

You placed the last bobby pin in your hair and gently pushed your earrings in, then grabbed your phone and clutch before heading out the door.

As you passed by the mirror on your wall, you checked your makeup one last time, too.

Was it too much? It was a formal event, so you assumed you were to look the part. Ultimately you decided you looked fine, and part of you wished that Zayne would like it, too.

Oh, who were you kidding. You really hoped that Zayne would like it.

The sounds of your heels meeting the hard floor echoed throughout your apartment building until you got into the elevator. Once you were inside, you sent Zayne a quick text letting him know you were on the way.

Ding!

The elevator alerted you to let you know that it had arrived on the first floor. Quickly, you stepped out and into the parking lot, not wanting to be the cause of potentially being late.

After a quick scan of the nearby parking spaces, you saw his car a short distance away. You made your way over, cursing yourself for choosing these particular heels that were already causing foot pain.

As he saw you approach, he stepped out of his car and walked around to the passenger side, placing his hand on the door handle. He was wearing a traditional suit, accompanied by his glasses that he seemed to save for special occasions or work.

"Wowww, Dr. Zayne. No lab coat today? And doesn't your car have a button to open the doors, even when you're inside?"

"Would it still count as chivalry if I were to only press a button?"

He gave a small smile and pulled the door handle, stepping aside to let you in the car.

You smiled back, gently sitting down so as not to disturb your hair and dress.

As you moved past him, Zayne took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes briefly before forcing them back open.

"You okay, Zayne? Am I wearing too much perfume? Or even worse...do I stink?"

Zayne shook his head and smiled once more.

"No and no, of course not. I like what you are wearing."

You nodded, satisfied with his prompt answer which caused your cheeks to burn.

Zayne closed your door and walked back around to his. He sat down and buckled himself in, motioning for you to do the same.

"The banquet is in an event hall not far from here. There will be some speeches that may bore you, by the way. This is your last chance to back out."

It was your turn to shake your head.

"Not a chance. It took me so long to get ready, I have to see this through. Besides, I was glad you thought to invite me."

Zayne turned the steering wheel to back out of his parking space, carefully eyeing his backup camera.

"Well, I am glad you accepted my invitation."

~

Zayne was telling the truth about it not being far. You made it there in only a few minutes. Frustratingly though, it had started to drizzle.

"Aw man, my hair and makeup will be ruined. Then everyone will think you brought a drowned rat as your plus one."

Zayne chuckled, pressing the button to turn his car off.

"Nonsense. Chivalry is still alive and well in Linkon."

Once again, he came around to the passenger side of the car rather than pressing the button to let you out. Seemingly out of nowhere, he had produced a large umbrella that was big enough to cover both of you, and especially big enough to protect your hair and makeup.

"Zayne, you are really outdoing yourself already. How could I ever repay you?"

"Don't worry, you already are."

Zayne walked slowly with you, making sure to keep the umbrella placed perfectly over your heads. Thanks to him, you both made it to the doorway of the event hall dry and in one piece.

There were lots of people, which was to be expected. Nevertheless, you instinctively clung to Zayne's arm, wrapping a hand around it tightly.

He was caught off guard, but only for a moment, before placing his large hand over the top of the silky fabric of your glove.

"You hunt Wanderers for a living and you're scared of a little crowd?"

You glared at him playfully, the amusement obvious in his usually soft voice.

"Hush, you meanie."

If you thought there were a lot of people in the foyer, it was nothing compared to the amount of people in the actual hall.

Numerous circular tables littered the hall as far as the eye could see. Pretty much all of the seats were already full, causing you to wonder where the two of you could possibly sit down. In the center against the back wall was the stage, presumably where the speeches Zayne mentioned were going to take place. Flower displays were plentiful, several of the biggest ones taking up the front of the stage, and the smaller ones sitting in between tables. Tiny vases with smaller versions of the displays sat on top of the tables, surrounded by expensive looking crystal dinnerware. It was definitely not something you see every day.

"Where would you like to sit?" Zayne asked.

You scanned the nearest tables, squeezing Zayne's arm when you saw an empty one.

"Let's sit there," you said quietly, pointing with your index finger so he could see what you were talking about.

Zayne nodded once he saw your choice, leading the way through the people that were still standing around.

There were five seats at the table in total, and by the time you got there, one of them was already filled by a young man that hadn't been there before. Oh well, you couldn't have expected to sit at a table with only Zayne at an event like this. But a girl could dream.

After you and Zayne sat down, the young man turned his attention to you. Nothing in particular stood out about him, and you couldn't say you recognized him from anywhere.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," he said in a voice that didn't quite match his plain-looking features.

"Hi! It's nice to meet you, too," you replied politely.

"And you as well," the man added as he looked towards Zayne.

Zayne nodded, but didn't say anything. It seemed his mind was elsewhere at the moment.

"I'm (Y/N), and this is Dr. Zayne from Akso Hospital."

The man gasped quietly and looked back over to Zayne.

"Ohhh, I've heard a lot about you. You're definitely a big part of the reason the hospital is receiving the award tonight, I'm sure!"

The man seemed genuine in his comment, as far as you could tell.

"I am only doing my job. I have no desire for awards or accolades. Besides, there are many competent doctors and nurses that work at Akso. That is the reason for our award." Zayne said harshly.

You were a bit taken aback by Zayne's choice of words, but you chalked it up to potential nerves about tonight. The man didn't seem too fazed, which relieved you.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Richard."

You nodded and smiled at him, just before a sharp noise echoed throughout the event hall. Your eyes searched the surrounding area, and you realized the banquet must be underway. There was a very important looking man near the edge of the stage, clinking a metal spoon against his wine glass.

"As you all know, we are here tonight to recognize the achievements and outstanding service of Akso Hospital...but we are also here to eat!"

This earned a few laughs from the crowd of people, and even one from you. You couldn't deny you were starting to get pretty hungry.

You looked at Zayne and noticed that he did not laugh, nor did he even smile. Instead, he seemed to be set in stone, staring straight ahead at the man speaking by the stage. It almost seemed as if he was looking through him, like his mind was still somewhere else entirely.

"It isn't like Zayne to be nervous...but what else could it be? Does he regret bringing me here? I probably look so silly, like a little girl all dressed up for her secret crush", you thought to yourself.

Ignoring the sudden pain in your chest, you turned your focus back to the man up front.

"...once again, I thank you all for coming. But for now, let us eat and we'll get to the rest of the award ceremony later!"

The hall gradually began to get louder as people began to talk amongst themselves again. This seemed like a good opportunity to get Zayne to talk and settle the nerves that were boiling under the surface of your skin.

"Zayne, aren't you starving? We didn't eat before we came!"

"Mmm," Zayne hummed quietly in agreement.

"Oh! I didn't realize you two came together. Are you...?

Richard didn't finish his implied question and your ears began to burn instantly.

"Oh, no no! Nothing like that," you quickly replied, waving your hands back and forth in front of you.

You didn't dare glance at Zayne, so you weren't sure of his reaction to the conversation. But thankfully you didn't have to worry for long, since Richard started talking again.

"I see! Well, (Y/N), what do you do for a living?"

Grateful for the change in topic, you jumped at the chance.

"Well, I'm a Hunter!"

"She's very good at what she does. I have seen her at work. We often assist each other," Zayne said suddenly from the side.

Both you and Richard glanced at each other before looking at Zayne, who was as stoic as ever, but this time looking directly at you.

Your ears, still not recovered from a few moments ago, grew uncomfortably hot.

"I think the line for food has gotten a bit shorter," Richard pointed out. "Should we go ahead and head over?"

"Yes, I-."

Zayne cut you off, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"Why don't you save us a spot, Richard? I need to ask (Y/N) something about a confidential matter at work. It cannot wait."

Richard stood, giving a small nod and a quick smile in your direction before walking towards the food serving line.

Once he was out of earshot, you hastily gathered yourself before facing Zayne.

"Is something wrong? You've been acting strangely since we sat down."

Zayne pushed up his glasses, keeping his eye on Richard's back as he stood at the end of the line on the other side of the hall.

"There is something odd about him. We should find somewhere else to sit for the night."

You scoffed, unsure of what he could be talking about.

"I'm not sure I understand, Zayne. He seems perfectly normal and nice to me."

He shook his head.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Well, of course I do, but..." you trailed off before continuing, "It just seems like something has gotten into you. Am I not allowed to make friends?"

"Of course you are. You can have as many friends as you like. Just not him. There is something wrong."

For some reason, Zayne's words frustrated you.

"I don't need permission, Zayne. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to get some food because I am starving. If you'd care to join me, I'll be over there."

Without waiting for a response, you left the table and walked with determination over to Richard, where he was still waiting in line. You truly had no idea what had gotten into your usually very kind and understanding friend, Zayne. You had never seen him act this way, so far as you could remember. Even so, as you got farther away from him, your resolve faltered. Had you been too harsh? No. Zayne was being...weird. You wanted to get to the bottom of it before the night was up.

"Hey!" Richard smiled and waved you over.

You gladly stepped beside him where he had saved you a spot.

"Thanks for holding a place for me, Richard. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get over here."

"It's no problem! I know you and Dr. Zayne must have a lot of secret work you need to do for Linkon. Speaking of, is he coming? There's more than enough room for him!"

You sighed, shaking your head.

"I'm not sure. He seems a bit...stressed at the moment. I may just bring him something to eat to help out a little bit."

Richard nodded.

"That's very kind of you. Dr. Zayne is very lucky to have a friend like you."

"Yeah," you couldn't help but sigh as the staff behind the table handed you a serving of the first dish. "A friend."

As you progressed down the line, Richard told you more about himself. You returned the favor, sparing some of the more private details of your life. But it truly was nice talking with him. He was very easy to get along with, and that further fueled your confusion towards Zayne's behavior.

After the two of you finished getting your food, you made your way back over to the table. As you got closer, you realized Zayne was no longer in his chair.

"Where did Zayne go?"

Richard looked around, nearly spinning in a circle.

"I'm not sure. He must have gotten tied up in an important conversation somewhere."

Just then you felt a buzz in your clutch, your phone alerting you to a text.

You set your plate down and reached into your clutch, grabbing your phone easily thanks to the small size of the bag.

On your phone's screen was a brief text from Zayne, asking you to meet him outside.

"Is everything okay?" Richard asked.

You snapped your attention away from your phone and smiled nervously at Richard.

"Of course! I just need to use the restroom before we start eating. Will you finish telling me your story that you mentioned in line when I get back?"

Richard nodded enthusiastically.

"I would love to!"

"Great, I'll be right back, I promise."

~

The air outside had gotten significantly cooler after the sun finished setting. Thankfully, it wasn't raining anymore. But you didn't see Zayne anywhere. He wasn't in the foyer and not immediately outside of the building. Almost in a panic, you turned around to search the entire parking lot. And that's when you caught a glimpse of a nearby streetlight reflecting off of something other than a car a few feet away.

It was Zayne's glasses, and he was leaned up against the side of his car with his arms crossed, looking off to the side.

"Zayne?"

Your voice caught his attention, and he used his weight to push himself off his car and move closer to you.

"There you are. I need you to come with me, we have to go."

As you got closer to him, you noticed he had an unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was one you had never seen in them before, and it instinctively made you nervous.

"Zayne, what's going on? You've been so weird tonight and now you're kind of scaring me."

Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Forgive me, I..."

You remained silent, waiting for him to finish, the rapid beating of your heart pounding in your eardrums.

"I seem to be acting on my impulses tonight. Something I thought I had been teaching myself not to do."

His actions were still not understandable to you, and he instantly read the confusion on your face.

"It's...it's his fault," Zayne murmured. "It's this dress."

Suddenly, he bent down to your level and ran his finger up the sleek fabric of your dress resting against your thigh. It caused you to tense up and shiver, whether from his actions or the night air, you weren't quite sure.

What you were sure of though, was how badly you wanted him to touch you again.

"Forgive me," he repeated. "I can call you a taxi to take home. I shouldn't have done that."

"Zayne," you said abruptly, causing him to stop from getting his phone out.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me," you repeated, this time a little less confident.

Zayne didn't say anything else before closing the rest of the gap between you in one step. Both of his large hands found space on each side of your face, and they rested there for a moment before he looked at you in the eyes, his own moving back and forth to discern the expression on your face.

"(Y/N)..." he began hesitantly.

"What?"

"If tonight has shown me anything, it's that I have not been controlling my impulses as well as I have previously. If I do this...I fear that I won't be able to stop myself."

You tried to take a deep breath, but it got caught in your throat.

"Do you want to kiss me, Zayne?"

"Yes," he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his frenzied eyes. "I cannot tell you what it has been like, seeing you almost every day now and falling in love with you all over, again and again. I have waited as patiently as I could have."

Shakily, you reached a hand up and loosely gripped one of Zayne's hands still on your cheek.

"Again? You've fallen in love with me before?"

Zayne hummed quietly, almost imperceptibly shaking his head against yours.

"Never mind that. Just know that I need you...I always have."

"Zayne, I..."

Something about what he was saying felt eerily familiar, and it felt like an invisible force was pulling you somehow even more closer to him in that moment.

"Please," Zayne whispered. "Tell me what you want."

"I...I want..."

Zayne rubbed his nose against yours, inching closer and closer to your parted lips. His labored breaths mixed with your shallow ones, causing the cool night air to visibly swirl around you. Your heart continued to pound, so loud and hard you were sure Zayne could hear it.

"I need to hear you say it...one more time."

Lighter than a feather, his lips brushed against yours as he spoke to you. And finally, finally, you were able to get your words out.

"I want you to kiss me...and I don't want you to stop."

Zayne tightened his grip on your face, his hands slipping slightly due to the thin layer of sweat that was between your skin and his. And then he pressed his lips firmly against yours.

You would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about what it would be like to kiss Zayne before. You had always assumed it would be magical, meaningful, and passionate.

And it turns out, you were right.

His lips tasted slightly sweet as he moved them against yours in perfect harmony. The sounds of your breathing echoed around you, muffled slightly by the sheer lack of distance between his face and yours. Your hands moved to hold onto his shoulders, and his moved from your cheeks to your waist, leaving a feeling of bitter cold behind. Somehow, in the contrasting heat of it all, he turned you around so you were now pressed between him and his car.

As soon as he did this, the kisses became more sloppy, more intense. You could feel his energy shift and it nearly caused your knees to buckle as he moaned quietly into your mouth. It occurred to you that your nails might be digging into his shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice.

Suddenly unable to breathe, you were the first to pull away. Zayne froze, looking down at you with a scared look in his eyes now.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I should have restrained myself properly."

"Zayne...again. Please, I only needed to catch my breath. You aren't the only one who has been waiting for this, you know."

This time, you didn't even wait for him to initiate the kiss. You moved in first, catching him slightly off guard. But he recovered quickly, matching your intensity in a flash.

The tip of his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, causing you to shiver for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. You weren't sure if he did it on purpose or if just happened, but you decided to open your lips slightly, providing an opening for him to push into deeper than before.

Zayne quickly obliged, a significant portion of his tongue meeting yours. This time it was your turn to moan, though yours was a little less controlled, and a little more loud.

He audibly groaned, the gnashing of your lips, tongue, and teeth causing a drop of saliva to run down your chin. You were pressed up against his car so tightly that it cause your shoulder blades to burn where they met the hard exterior of it. Zayne had a vice grip on your hips, and his hands were so large that you were sure it would leave marks.

The slit in your dress that you were shocked by earlier became Zayne's next target. He used one finger to trail up your thigh and hook under the edge of the slit as he kissed you, the fabric being pulled taught against your tingling skin.

Once again, you pulled away, letting your head roll back so that it rested against the top of his car. Your chest heaved, stretching the dress where it rested against your breasts with every breath in.

Zayne nestled his head into the crook of your neck, leaving small, wet kisses there. His finger that had been hooked into the slit of your dress continued its way up your body until his hand came to rest against your ribcage.

"Zayne, we should...get back before people start noticing we're gone."

"Hmm," he hummed against your collarbone.

"I mean it. What about the speeches?"

"Easy..." he murmured before placing an open-mouthed kiss, this time against your jawline. "Forget them."

"Zayne! You can't be serious."

"I assure you, I'm very serious. As serious as a heart attack."

You weakly raised your head back up to meet his gaze. There was a deep hunger in his expression, one that you could tell had not been fully satisfied.

"I did warn you," Zayne murmured before kissing you on the lips again briefly. "I have waited so long for you, it will be nearly impossible for me to let you go now that I have you."

You couldn't help but wonder what exactly he had in mind. But your thoughts and your body seemed to be communicating together, the undeniable warmth from your core spreading outwards fast. You knew you wanted to taste him again, to feel him against you again.

"Take me home, Zayne."

~

The drive back to your apartment seemed longer than it did when you left earlier. Inside Zayne's car, the air was thick with tension and desire. Neither of you spoke, too hesitant to mess anything up.

Once you were at your door, you prayed Zayne didn't see your hands shake slightly when getting your keys out to unlock it.

As you made it inside, Zayne closed the door behind the two of you and then slowly crouched down in front of you.

"Zayne, what are you..."

"Shh. Let me help you."

He motioned for you to lift one foot up, and you did so. He then undid your heel's strings and slid it off your foot carefully, before repeating the same steps on the other foot.

This time though, he placed his hand against your calf and let it trail up your bare leg until he stood up all the way. He took a deep breath as he did so, causing you to shake in anticipation.

"(Y/N). I know what I said, but if at any point anything becomes too much for you...or you simply change your mind, I want you to tell me. I will never do anything you don't want to do. Does that make sense?"

You nodded, overwhelmed with all the feelings coursing through you at the moment.

Zayne seemed satisfied, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it by the door. You couldn't help but notice how nicely his white button-up shirt sat against his toned arms.

He chuckled.

"If you don't like this," he said softly, pulling at the fabric of his sleeve, "I can remove it, too."

Involuntarily, you shuddered, realizing what he meant. But you had a better idea.

"Can I?"

Though your question was short, he understood what it meant.

Without a word, he stopped closer to you, looking down at you with a glint in his eye.

"If that's what you'd like."

You didn't mean to necessarily, but you held your breath as you let your clutch fall to the floor and instead placed your hands at his collar. As carefully as you could, you undid the first button of his shirt. Zayne watched you intently, his breathing picking up again like it had earlier in the parking lot.

One of your knuckles accidentally brushed against his collarbone while you undid another button, and it was his turn to shiver, even at such a slight touch. Honestly, it made you feel good, knowing that he must be feeling the same things you are feeling.

You continued down the shirt, each button coming undone with an almost inaudible pop sound. The farther you made it down, the more of his chest you started to see. It was unsurprisingly perfect, chiseled in all the right places, so much better than you could have ever imagined.

By the time you made it to the last button, you needed to pull the fabric out from where it was tucked into the hem of his pants. It was here that you hesitated.

"Are you alright?" Zayne asked, sensing your mind reeling. He placed a hand over top of yours where it still held onto the last button of his shirt.

"Yes, I'm alright. I just...don't want to mess anything up."

"Don't worry. You are perfect. Whatever happens will be perfect. Let me help again, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, nearly silent.

Zayne gently removed your hand from the last button, and tugged his shirt out from his pants to remove it completely.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight before you.

Then without thinking properly, you let your hands reach out for him, flattening against his bare chest. Your fingers traced the lines carved into his skin, and you realized you really shouldn't be surprised at this since you know he works out regularly.

“Would you let me take you somewhere more comfortable?” Zayne asked, nodding his head towards your bedroom.

“That definitely isn’t a bad idea.”

Zayne chuckled at you again before grabbing one of your hands to lead you away, making sure to carefully step over your forgotten bag and his white shirt on the floor.

He sat on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to enter into the room completely.

You were still mesmerized by him, by the situation. And then you realized that you had on remarkably more clothing than him. You decided to enlist his help one more time.

You turned in a circle, so that your back was now facing him. Though you could do it yourself, you thought this would be more fun.

“Help me again, Dr. Zayne”

From behind you, you could hear him stand up and make his way over to you. You moved your hair out of the way so that the zipper on the back of your dress was now visible.

“If that is what you wish.”

Even through the material of your dress, you could feel his cold fingers against your back as they slid the zipper down to your waist.

Once he made it to your waist, you took a step forward and chanced a look over your shoulder.

Zayne stood behind you, watching you with another unknown emotion behind his darkened green eyes.

You shrugged off the top of your dress, causing it to instantly gather around your waist. Your bare back was now directly in front of Zayne, as the dress didn’t require you to wear a bra. The air in your room made you tense up.

Braving any lingering fears, you pulled the dress past your hips so that it fell to the floor, and you stepped out of it. Now you stood only in your underwear.

A few seconds passed and you could then hear Zayne take another step forward. A few seconds more, and you hissed as Zayne’s cold hands made contact with your exposed hips.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, planting a kiss against your shoulder.

You no longer felt the metal of his glasses bump into your skin, so you assumed he must’ve tossed them aside.

“Let me show you what you do to me. What seeing you with someone else does to me. How it makes me feel…”

Before you could respond, one of Zayne’s hands snaked around the front of your waist and began teasing the waistband of your underwear. You instantly knew what he was planning to do.

“And more importantly, let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t help but gasp sharply at how bold Zayne was being as he gently slid the tips of his fingers past the edge of your underwear. His other hand was laid flat against your stomach from behind you, and the pressure against you only intensified once his pointer finger made contact with the edge of your aching core.

Zayne placed his chin on your shoulder, looking down with an almost gleeful smirk on his lips while he watched the rest of his hand disappear past your last piece of clothing.

“Mmmm,” you hummed as the pad of his pointer finger circled around your center.

“Such a pretty sound,” Zayne stated as if it was a well known fact.

He took this time to softly dip the one finger inside of you, pumping it a few times before adding his middle finger. You could tell he was instantly covered in the wetness coming from deep within you, the slick feeling of his fingers inside already driving you wild.

A fire began burning inside your mind and body as he continued drawing his two fingers in and out of you, curving them slightly to find the spot that would inevitably cause you to unravel around him.

Your knees buckled and his grip around your waist with his other hand tightened.

“I’ve got you. I always will,” Zayne spoke against the thin skin of your neck, nuzzling deeper into the space between it and your shoulder.

The faster he went, the less you felt like you were physically there. The only feeling you had right now was the feeling of his touch, as if that feeling which wasn't even your own doing was the only thing that tied your existence to this room, to this place. You weren't even sure if you were standing properly anymore or if he was holding you up with his other arm. You didn't really care.

Never in your wildest dreams had you expected to end up in this situation. But now that you were, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else or with anyone else. You knew from this point on, he was the only one allowed to witness you like this. There was no going back from this. He had drawn you in and made you his, and this was where you belonged.

It was when you realized this that you came undone.

Somehow, you remained conscious of your neighbors and stifled the strangled whines that threatened to escape your gaping mouth. You eyes screwed shut in pure concentration, causing a single tear to escape the corner of your right eye.

"Shh," came Zayne's quiet voice from behind you.

He rubbed his nose against your cheek where the tear had fallen, ultimately wiping it away. The contrast of his cool nose against the sizzling skin of your cheek was very noticeable.

"Would you like to lay down?"

"Mhmm." This was the only sound you could get out now, but Zayne understood.

He kept a stable grip on you because he had, in fact, been holding you up for the past several minutes. You would have to thank him later.

Zayne guided you towards the bed and helped you first to sit down, and then to lay your head against the pillows. He gingerly grabbed your ankles and readjusted your legs so that they would be laying more comfortably on the end of the bed.

You couldn't help but cringe at the feeling of your now freezing, wet underwear that was sloppily pulled back into its proper position.

From the left side, you could hear Zayne lay down next to you, and his wide hand rubbed the clammy skin of your stomach.

You laid in silence for a few moments, waiting for your breathing to calm down before speaking.

"That was, ummm..."

You briefly glanced over at the man next to you and couldn't think of what to say next, your mind a tangled mess. Really, you had assumed he would say something to fill the silence where you were lacking. But when he didn't, you decided to take a better look at him.

Though his hand had come to a rest on your stomach, he was not looking at you. Instead he was looking at the ceiling, his jaw set harshly as if he was concentrating on something.

"Zayne, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

You rolled over onto your side, wrapping an arm around him and trying to ignore the feeling of your bare nipples against his cool exterior.

"No," he said shortly, but softly. "You were perfect, just as I said you would be. I just find myself...struggling to restrain my actions further when I should already be satisfied. And I am...satisfied. However, it would seem that you allowing me this pleasure has turned me into not only an impulsive version of myself, but a greedy one as well."

"Zayne...?"

You began to sit up on your elbow to look at his face, but your other hand brushed up against a lower part of him you weren't expecting to. The sensation immediately elicited a sharp hiss from Zayne.

"Oh!" you exclaimed in surprise, "I'm sorry."

Zayne shook his head roughly.

"Don't be. And don't feel obligated. Promise me, (Y/N). We don't have to go any further."

For a minute, you thought about what you would like to happen next. You took Zayne's words to heart, and you knew he meant them.

But perhaps you had become a bit impulsive as well.

Wordlessly, you finished sitting up enough to look down at Zayne who was now making eye contact with you rather than looking at the ceiling. Your hand had come to rest on his lower stomach now, right below his belly button. If you moved down any further...

You noticed how tight the fabric of his pants was around his bulge. You swallowed thickly, the embers of the fire you felt a little while ago becoming reignited.

"(Y/N)..."

Zayne watched as you looked between him and his painfully restricted erection.

"What do you want, Zayne?"

He was visibly surprised at your sudden confidence, but remained composed.

"That is not as important as what you want. I will always place your needs and wants above my own, no matter how tempting it may be otherwise."

Zayne sounded almost hoarse from timid anticipation and it only further fueled your own desires.

"Let me show you what I want."

He didn't say anything else, he could only watch as your now steady hands touched the belt keeping his pants up.

"(Y/N)," he repeated, this time urgently.

"I want..."

You let your sentence trail off and began undoing his belt as sensually as you could manage. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Zayne's chest begin to heave as he studied you like a hawk.

"You."

The belt was now completely undone, and you pulled it from its loops to toss it carelessly aside on the floor. You then undid the zipper of his pants, the sound of it clashing with Zayne's distorted breaths. Once you had the zipper down all the way, you did the best you could to pull his pants down while he was laying down. It didn't take much before his throbbing length was now restrained by one less layer of clothing.

He shook at the air hitting him down there, and you struggled to keep your eyes from widening noticeably at how large he seemed to be. At the center of his white underwear, you could see several small dark spots from his increasing arousal.

Before he could try to talk you out of it, you lifted one of your legs to straddle him. Both of you moaned simultaneously as your tingling core came into contact with his rock-hard bulge.

Using the last bit of your newfound confidence, you bent down and captured his lips in a wet kiss.

"I have always wanted you."

Zayne watched your lips in awe as you spoke, the corner of his own lifting in a small smile.

And then he collided into you.

It was like the kisses you shared in the parking lot, only...it wasn't at the same time. This felt more primal, more passionate. As if your souls had begun threading together like they were somehow meant to.

You held onto his face tightly as he kissed you, the wet sounds of your mouths echoing in your small bedroom. His deft hands came to rest on your ass, and they dug into the softness there as he thrusted upwards against your throbbing genitals. This caused your back to arch slightly, making your lips leave his, the only thing now connecting them a string of your mixed saliva.

Zayne took this opportunity to roll you under him so that he was now hovering over your exposed body.

One hand held his own body up, and the other tenderly traced around the edge of your breasts.

"You are too good to me," Zayne sighed under his breath.

"And while I do not normally condone this..."

Zayne stood up suddenly and fully removed his pants and underwear in what seemed like one swift motion before climbing back over top of you.

"I have no control left within my body."

His hands gripped your underwear tightly, his knuckles turning white and his veins popping as he completely ripped the flimsy material off of you.

"Zayne!"

He gripped the headboard, leaning over you to whisper in your ear.

"I'll buy you more."

You shuddered at both his words and the proximity of his naked body to yours.

"Do you trust me?" he continued.

"Yes. I trust you Zayne."

"Then hold on," he growled, his hot breath fanning over your ear.

Using his other hand to grip himself, he steered his length to your entrance, teasing it slightly with the head.

"Oh, shit," you gasped loudly.

With no further hesitation, Zayne fully inserted himself inside of you, making the both of you moan noisily. He remained there for a moment, his sweaty chest rubbing against your own. The hand that was on the headboard now came down against the mattress to hold the rest of his body up. His other hand grabbed one of yours, and he weaved his fingers in-between your own.

Your clasped hands gripped each other stiffly as he started to thrust in and out of you. As he did so, your other hand clawed at his back.

Where it had been silent before, your room now seemed like a concert of lewd noises. Zayne's grunts, your mewls, the wet sound of your bodies slamming together repeatedly...it was all so disgustingly beautiful.

Though your eyes were shut, you could feel Zayne's sticky forehead against your temple. The grip he had on your hand intensified, and the rapid, hot breaths from his mouth collided with your neck. Shamefully fast, you felt the familiar feeling of your impending climax, and you couldn't help but wonder if Zayne could, too.

"You..." Zayne panted, pulling himself out of you before slamming back in, all the way up to the base of his cock. "Already?"

You scoffed, opening your eyes to look at him, chastising yourself for thinking he was anything other than observant.

"You do things...to me too, you know?"

Zayne groaned, almost animalistic in the way that it sounded.

You licked your swollen lips, the moisture temporarily aiding in the chapped sensation you had been feeling.

"I want to feel it...I want you to look at me."

Zayne withdrew his hand from yours and instead grabbed your chin roughly. He then turned it, so that you were facing him completely.

"You are doing so well..."

For some reason, you fixated on the sweat that was flowing down the side of Zayne's face, dripping from his soaking wet hair. A few drops of it landed on your cheeks, but Zayne's increasingly harsh thrusts made them run down to your neck.

He kept a grip on your chin and began sucking on the skin where his sweat had pooled against a divot in your neck. It was with such force, you knew there would be a purple bruise there the next morning. The thought of others being able to see the evidence of the filthy night you had with Zayne was enough to send you over the edge for the second time.

Zayne felt you begin to tense up, and knowing what was coming and that he would not be able to stop himself from climaxing inside of you if he remained there, he begrudgingly removed himself just in time.

His warm cum splattered harshly against your pulsing core, and he couldn't help but watch as it did. The sight of you so utterly spent and covered in his seed was enough to make him collapse next to you.

This time, the silence in the room seemed ridiculously loud. It smelled completely of sex, and you knew you would have to wash your bedding tomorrow.

But you also couldn't help but feel completely at ease. That was the closest you could have ever hoped to be to the man you loved.

Love...what a word, right?

Part of you wanted to proclaim it right then and there. Though the other part of you was content with the silence, laying next to the second half of your somewhat broken soul.

It felt complete. You felt complete. And you hoped he did too.

You'd have to thank Richard if you ever saw him again.

[familiarscars]

Fahrenheit | Nick Folio | One Shot

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Nick Folio X Stripper!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. for a good amount of money you can make any wish come true.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). environment exposed to illegal activities, nudity, explicit sex, oral sex, alcohol consumption.

I really need your reblog! On Tumblr, the content reaches more views and is delivered more through reblog and I really wanted more people to be able to read what I write. I'm counting on you from now on, ok?

Rounds on a Carousel.

Rising and falling to the rhythm of a song that felt like it had just escaped from one of those delicate music boxes, the kind with a beautiful, elegant ballerina at its center. A nostalgic sensation, an almost childlike memory. This wasn’t your life, nothing about it resembled yours, but it was just as exhilarating.

Neon lights painted the club in shades of red and purple, reflecting off every surface like an electric fever pulsing to the beat of the music. The bass made the floor vibrate beneath your high heels, an intense heartbeat dictating the rhythm of the night. The air was a dizzying mix of sweet perfume, expensive alcohol, and the heat of eager bodies pressed against the edge of the stage.

The slow pulse of the music wrapped around your hips as you moved along the pole, becoming one with it. Practiced and deliberate, slow and sensual, every movement was a calculated tease as your body coiled around the steel like the most dangerous kind of serpent. Between glances, you met the famished, mesmerized expressions below the stage. You ran your fingers along the cool metal, feeling the stark contrast against the heat of your skin. Your body already knew what to do. Every muscle, every curve, every drop of sweat beginning to form was a silent invitation. Eyes were locked on you, but you didn’t need them to know you were in control. The air was thick, charged, nearly suffocating—exactly as it should be.

Men were like servants at your feet.

When the night fell and you stepped onto the stage, control over them was handed to you effortlessly. They would do anything you wanted. They didn’t think, only surrendered to the illusion of a woman feeding them just enough to swell their fragile egos, making them believe they were worthy of your attention. Needy men craved exactly that—a mere scrap of confidence—so that, without hesitation, they would throw themselves at anyone daring enough to take advantage.

And once they were entangled, thoroughly deceived, they offered you an ocean of opportunity, perfect for draining them dry before the show was over.

That was the most entertaining part of your job.

With a slow motion, you spun around the pole, hair slipping over your shoulder like a veil of temptation. The lights caught the satiny sheen of your skin as you arched your body, a dangerous game between strength and softness. Your fingers gripped the bar firmly, and with precise momentum, you lifted yourself, legs wrapping around the polished metal. Gravity became an irrelevant detail as you slid down, every inch of skin illuminated under the flashing lights.

Heat coursed through your body as you leaned back, forming a perfect line that highlighted every curve at just the right angle—pure provocation without a single word. The beats of the music merged with the hitched breaths of those watching, captivated by the rhythm of your movements.

Your tongue met the cold steel as you dragged your damp lips across it. Flickering red lights, heat seeping from your pores, your veins burning with the rush, and the smoke drifting through the stage cast a spell over every entranced gaze. With your back against the pole, you slid down slowly, spreading your legs as you reached the floor—a privileged view for the most generous among them tonight.

As you descended, your feet touched the ground with the lightness of someone who knew exactly the power they wielded. Your gaze roamed the crowd, a silent promise to whoever dared to hold it. The atmosphere burned, thick with desire and admiration.

This was what you did. You dominated.

And in that moment, the whole world was yours.

The deep pulse of the music seemed to sync with your steps, like an extension of your own desire to command that stage. The heat of the club pulsed around you, charged with lust, but something was different now. A gaze.

You felt it before you saw it. An invisible weight pressing against your skin, igniting a burning spark that shot down your spine. When your eyes drifted over the crowd, he was there.

Seated in the shadows, surrounded by smoke and darkness, yet still completely exposed. He didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. His gaze was unwavering, so intense it seemed to devour you right then and there. Like a man crawling through a desert, starved and parched, aching for the unattainable. He wanted to drink you in with his eyes.

Your chest rose and fell in a different rhythm now, deeper. A crackling energy licked at your skin as your dance shifted subtly.

No longer for the crowd. Not for the applause. For him.

Your fingers traced over your own skin, slipping between the lace barely covering your chest as you turned around the pole, as if marking the path he longed to touch. Your movements slowed, deliberate, more enticing. Your leg extended with practiced grace, the curve of your hips accentuating every detail he absorbed as if he were a condemned man facing his final temptation.

And he remained there, motionless, mesmerized, as if the rest of the club had disappeared. As if nothing but you existed.

When you arched your body against the pole, tilting your head back, you knew you had him exactly where you wanted. His gaze burned your skin like an unspoken promise, a raw desire vibrating between the two of you, like a stretched wire on the verge of snapping.

You smiled. Slow. Provocative. Like a queen granting a mere mortal a glimpse of paradise.

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched. And in that moment, he knew. He was already yours.

The water slid down your throat, cooling the heat still burning beneath your skin, but the sensation didn’t last. The bar was empty now, the low music vibrating against the walls like a distant echo of the spectacle that had unfolded hours before. The customers were gone, the staff too, and you were about to leave as well—until a deep voice, right behind you, made you freeze.

"I want to pay for your time."

The glass halted midway to your lips. Your heart pounded, a mix of surprise and indignation burning your face before you even turned around.

"I'm not a prostitute!" you shot back, your cheeks burning, fingers tightening around the glass.

He smiled. Slow. Confident. The kind of smile that made your skin prickle before you even understood why.

"I know," he murmured, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "But I want to pay for your time. I want you to dance for me. Just for me."

You hesitated, still feeling the blood thudding in your throat. He didn’t look drunk, nor desperate. Just determined.

"I only have tonight in the city," he continued, leaning over the counter, close enough that his woody scent mixed with the smell of alcohol and the leather of his jacket. "I’m leaving with my band tomorrow. Don’t deny the request of a man you might never see again."

You wetted your lips without realizing, nibbling on the corner of your lower lip. Your eyes scanned him, the relaxed way he waited, as if he already knew you’d say yes. And maybe he did.

"My time is expensive," you said, crossing your arms, trying not to show how much his gaze disarmed you.

"Good," he tilted his head, a burning glint in his eyes. "I don’t mind giving you everything I have."

The silence stretched between you, heavy, charged. An invisible current connected you, an unspoken challenge in the air.

Then, without another word, you turned on your heels and walked toward the stage. The echo of your heels against the floor reverberated through the empty bar, each step a promise. You climbed the steps slowly, the tips of your fingers grazing the cold pole, and let out a controlled breath.

The music started again. And this time, the dance was only for him.

The bass throbbed through the floor, the air, your blood. His. The pole was your anchor, but with each note, each spin, you detached a little more from reality, diving into the dance like someone surrendering to a forbidden ritual.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. He was there, transfixed, hypnotized, as you painted an unspoken invitation with your body.

Your skin glowed under the red light, a damp sheen that made him swallow hard. The movements started slow, precise, a play of shadows and curves that ignited desire with the patience of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Every sway of your hips, every glide along the pole, every arch of your spine made it clear: this wasn’t just a dance. It was a spell. And he was falling.

You stepped down from the pole without haste, bare feet on the stage, your body undulating to the rhythm of the music. His eyes followed you, but at some point, he was no longer just a spectator. You pulled him into the performance without him even realizing it. Your scent was intoxicating. A mix of sweat, perfume, and desire pulsing through your skin. He felt it when you drew closer, when your breath brushed against his, when the tips of your fingers ran lightly along your own thigh, as if tracing the path he wanted to take.

Your eyes were flaming abysses. Red. Blood-filled pupils reflecting the fever of that moment.

Slow, feline, your body danced in the space between the two of you, unhurried. You made him feel your presence before even touching him, your warm breath caressing his skin, the burning promise in the way you moved around him, as if marking the territory that already belonged to you.

The first touch was subtle but electric. His fingers trailed down your nape, tracing the path of a desire on the verge of exploding. And he didn’t resist. His face drew closer, lips grazing the exposed skin of your shoulder in a slow, hot, torturous drag. The tip of his tongue traced an invisible path along the curve of your neck, descending as if savoring you before committing the ultimate crime. He slid his lips over your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, your stomach, while your hands tangled in his hair—pulling, guiding, demanding more.

Lost in a battle for control that didn’t exist, seeking escape in the dark desire of a night that might become just another memory by morning. You didn’t care about any rules at work when you let him go all the way. Free of your shorts, he pushed your thin panties aside and lost himself even further at the sight that had tormented him all night.

Leaning back, you watched as he descended, his mouth capturing your swollen lips with absolute hunger. A low sigh escaped your lips. His tongue moved back and forth with a slowness that felt more like torture, then captured your clit and circled it counterclockwise, never breaking eye contact—his gaze possessed by something wicked.

Gasping, your back arched involuntarily when he pushed two fingers inside you. He alternated between deep thrusts and slow, teasing sucks, his tongue painting strokes of electric pleasure that surged through your entire body. Your skin tingled, as if hundreds of needles were taking turns deciding which would torment you first.

Heat. Sweat trickled down your neck, bearing witness to your feverish state, made evident only by the loud moans that drowned out the music in the background. He punished you with quick thrusts and slow sucks, leaving your mind hazy with so much skill that you questioned where the hell a man like him had even come from.

You inhaled sharply, your chest rising and falling like you were fighting against a tide dragging you under.

He locked his fingers around the top of your slit and sucked your clit as soon as he felt your body tense. He didn’t want you to come yet, and you obeyed like a good girl.

When he climbed back up, his breath ragged, eyes locked onto yours, there was a moment of silence. A single instant where only the sound of desire filled the space.

Then, your lips met.

The kiss wasn’t delicate. It wasn’t soft. It was fire. Sparks igniting the air the second your mouths clashed, teeth scraping, tongues warring in a game where both of you wanted to lose. You drowned in the heat, in your own taste, in the way his hands gripped your waist and dragged you closer into his lap, aligning you perfectly before slamming his cock inside you in one swift motion—like there wasn’t enough space in the world to keep you apart.

A cry tore from your lips when his thickness stretched your pussy, but even the burn of it was intoxicating, and with every thrust, you felt arousal drip between your thighs.

He groaned into your mouth, hands firm as they explored your curves, capturing your breasts, gripping your thighs, claiming every inch of you and silently begging for more.

You opened your eyes for a fleeting moment and saw only red on the ceiling of the club. Only fever.

Only a stage that no longer belonged to you. Nor to him. But to both of you.

Each bounce stole the air from his lungs, and you made sure to arch your ass higher, dropping onto him harder, faster, as his hands refused to leave your body even for a second. He played with the piercing on your nipple, smirking at the contrast of cold metal against sensitive, rigid flesh, spurring your hips to grind against him even more.

Slowly, you both rose from the floor, his solid body pressing against your back as your face rested against the metal pole. Bracing yourself, you felt his chin on your shoulder, his fingers gripping your thigh as he positioned you—his cock pushing inside again, still slick, yet struggling against your tightness.

Your legs trembled, your moans turning hoarse. The pressure of your walls squeezing around him made him sink his teeth into your shoulder. It was painful, dirty, forbidden—anyone could walk in at any second—but the thought only fueled you, making you clench even harder.

You wanted all of him. You wanted to provoke him, to make it hurt even more.

With another deliberate squeeze around him, you heard his moan deepen, his fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back. When your gaze met his burning irises, he silenced you with his lips, a furious kiss dripping with intensity as he pounded into you harder.

Your body burned so much your legs could barely hold you up, both of you panting as your bodies moved in sync, slick with sweat. For a brief second, sliding over his cock reminded you of the way you gripped the pole every night—how intimately you knew it, how it was a part of you. Just like he was now.

He plunged into you without shame or hesitation, devouring you with the hunger of someone who had been waiting far too long for their favorite meal. He dedicated himself to everything at once, and you had never felt so desired, so touched, so thoroughly satisfied in your entire life.

The light filtered through the thin curtains, tinting the room with a soft golden hue. The air still carried a trace of perfume and sweat—a silent reminder of the night before.

You woke slowly, stretching lazily on the unmade bed. A yawn slipped from your lips as your fingers ran through your hair, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. Sitting up, your feet touched the cold floor, and you walked to the bathroom to begin your morning ritual.

The shower water cascaded over your skin, washing away the warmth of sleep—and perhaps something more. Perhaps fragments of the night, blurred in your mind like echoes of a fever dream. You dressed without hurry, brewed a strong cup of coffee, and leaned against the small kitchen counter, trying to stitch together the loose threads of memory.

The scent of coffee pulled you further into wakefulness. The hot liquid slid down your throat, and it was only then—when your eyes drifted over the room—that you noticed.

An envelope.

It was there, next to your bag, on the nightstand.

Your stomach sank.

Slowly, you approached, fingers hesitant as you picked it up. The moment you opened it, the air seemed to vanish from your lungs.

Fourteen thousand dollars.

The crisp stack of bills felt heavier than it should.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the money, feeling your heart hammer violently in your chest.

It really happened.

⭑ @bloody-spades ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby

[ngage2003]

Do you have headcanons for Brian and Masky's interactions while their alliance?

like, How do you think its dynamics have been?

Ohhh do I ever! Brian in relation to systim, especially Masky, is something I think about a lot because of the inherent tragedy in those two's alliance. Brian was systim's first friend but he also led Masky away from his job/duty to the system¹, and ended up betraying them², something that led to everyone but Tim dying.

1. He had Masky do dangerous things like harassing Alex and Jay, leading them in circles but also putting Tim in danger and eventually getting their body's leg broken 2. Entry 61 with the seizure as a direct betrayal to Masky, but also him letting Jay go after Tim trapped him

I think Brian in a lot of ways understood systim better than Masky did, and while he cared a lot for him, he did use his understanding of systim to his advantage against the Operator and Alex, too caught up in his chess game to realize how bad his actions might be.

In a lot of ways, Jay and Brian share a similarity here, since as Marble Hornets progresses, Jay gets less and less conscious of how invasive/weird his recording of things is, a fact brought up and implied heavily at the start of Season 3. Except while Jay's recording is (I would argue) self interested, Brian's interest is more focused on a vague "greater good," or these guerrilla warfare tactics almost against a paranatural entity. But I digress.

I think Brian knew more alters than even Masky was aware of, from how when Masky was able to access front, it basically opened a backdoor to sometimes let other people in too, as only really Tim could fully lockdown front. (And even then, triggers still sometimes got through him.)

I think there was a lot of trust between Masky and Brian too though, as for a while, even though Brian was having Masky do things for him and you could argue he was using Masky, to Masky it felt like an equal relationship.

Brian wanted things, and Masky wanted to supply, to help their best friend, to be cared for and for once not have to make decisions.

Masky has been a protector for their system since they were a little kid, and no matter how much they love Tim, they are exhausted from it, as anyone would be. Getting to follow for once is relieving, and the way Brian claims he wants to hurt this entity that has been haunting and tormenting the person Masky cares about most—it is a breath of fresh air, something hopeful almost.

I think a part of Masky knows that Brian is putting their body in danger with what he asks of them, but Masky is too eager to help someone and not be in charge for once, and they not only trust Brian and more important, want to trust him.

I think it helps that the Operator is almost a weak spot for Masky, a topic that makes them angry and makes their protector instincts flare. It clouds their judgement a bit, and that makes them more willing to do something they're not supposed to.

Masky felt extremely guilty over Brian's near death when they properly learn about it, (which is pretty early before they start working together,) and blames herself partially for it. Brian was their best friend after all, and she should have protected him, she had been there and she failed. (If you believe that Entry 51 happened the day after Entry 56/57) Never mind the fact the Operator showed up and fucked everything up, she refuses to take that as an excuse.

Masky and Brian are very physically affectionate to me, though almost entirely because Masky is. Brian doesn't feel like a person anymore and struggles to reciprocate hugs and the like, but Masky wants to badly to pull him close, to hold him, to shield him. She almost wishes that she could just pull him into their head, so she could properly keep him safe, but sometimes she gets nervous that what they are (a system) will put Brian off.

I think Brian is nonjudgmental though. Its hard to be judgmental of anything like DID when you have faced horrors beyond imagining.

I think he did care very deeply for Tim and his system, and he didn't want to hurt them, but stopping Alex and the Operator took precedent in his mind. They killed him and changed him fundamentally. He wants them to pay.

I think he nearly regrets it though, sometimes, when he is laying on his mattress at night and feels the cold and mildew setting into his bones, sinking past his skin which he is sure he is rotting.

(He wishes Masky was there, to check, like it had in the past. It has so much experience dealing with delusions and he wishes it was here to help with his—but he knows he has burned that bridge.)

I think when he realizes he is out of his depth, after Jay's death, he panics. He feels a sort of reckless almost frenzy, and it completely jeopardizes whatever small fragility he had. It is why he tries to go contact Masky again, to get her help.

But he refuses to answer his call.

I think about them a lot, anon.

[alienboy51]

you ever really hate a show but you're obsessed with it and it genuinely changed your trajectory on life

pretty sure there's a high chance i have autism

really i think the biggest gripe i have with voltron is the fact that there's very little episodes that just build upon the character dynamics or world building. sure, the bulk of the series is plot progression, but we really don't learn a lot. it's a very convoluted series. we don't know much about the magic system. i think a big thing that voltron: legendary defender missed was the art of "show, don't tell." they TELL us that lance and allura are in love, but there's very little buildup to this, especially since they get together almost immediately after lotor dies. they TELL us that keith views shiro as a brother, but we don't see WHY until season seven. it's a great episode, but with keith and shiro's relationship being so very important to keith as a character, i wish they'd explored it a little more. this is why so many people like klance, platonically or otherwise. keith and lance INTERACT and their relationship grows with time. we don't get any episodes of them solo, like we do with other characters, which i think was a big missed opportunity since they are the only characters that are really at odds with each other consistently. i think exploring why they don't get along, and why lance is so resentful towards keith would've been a big stepping stone in progressing their friendship. i think having solo episodes between characters that don't interact as much would've been a great idea, such as hunk and shiro or allura and pidge. those characters would definitely be compatible. show, don't tell, like i said. show us that the characters love each other. don't tell us that they're close friends, don't TELL us that they view each other as family, if you're not going to show us WHY they care so much about each other. keith said it in season seven, why are they really friends? they're just people who got stuck together due to circumstance. why weren't we shown how strong their relationship supposedly is throughout the show? why is the character development lacking in so many aspects? why does keith grow as a character and leader off screen? why don't hunk and lance get to grow into their own people; why does lance only get TOLD that he's strong and self assured, if that's not really the case? honestly, why does coran not get anything outside of being comedic relief when he's just as much a tragic character as allura? oh my god iris stop yapping challenge

[ninja-confession-go]

I actually really don’t like any of the canon Ninjago ships between the main ninja. All of them boil down to forced obligatory straight ships that I never could get into.

Jaya started out with Jay being weirdly creepy and possessive over Nya, ESPECIALLY in Skybound. Like, the first time he hears of her, not even having met her yet, he asks if she’s hot. I think, if he maybe had a little crush at the beginning (after he got to know her), and she reciprocated on her own, I would like it a lot more. I even did like the episode where they go on a date and Jay learns to be his true self, I think that’s probably my favorite moment involving Jaya. The whole love triangle was weird bc I think all three of them were OOC, so I chose not to count it. Skybound is particularly bad because Nya openly expresses that she wants to have an identity outside of being with Jay, and a few minutes later, the writers just have her say she wants to be with him.

Pixane also felt forced because of how quickly they “fell” for each other after such minimal interaction. They never felt ��compatible” because they have virtually no connection outside of being “the robots who are smart”. They don’t have any chemistry until maybe SOG, and I think that’s because Pixal herself isn’t allowed to have much of a character other than “Zane’s love interest” and “the other smart one”.

Kailor has pretty much the same problems as Pixane, but at least they have more chemistry. There doesn’t seem to be any real reason they like each other, other than Kai thinking Skylor’s hot. Skylor doesn’t even seem to be that into Kai when she’s not putting up her facade, so I don’t necessarily mind that they’re not technically together yet.

Llorumi is abusive, I don’t think I have to explain why I don’t like it.

Overall, I think the show handles these ships better in later seasons, but they’re still far from perfect. My biggest problem is just how forced they were from the start, and how it never feels like any of the characters have a legitimate reason for why they’re attracted to their love interest. I don’t outright hate any of them (except for Llorumi), but I wish they were executed better, and the female counterparts got more character and agency in their respective relationships

.

[aseon50]

Mike: I don't trust Cellbit, man. I don't trust Cellbit. He came back, and it seems like people forgot, right? 'Everything's fine' Man, he stabbed Pac, man, and that won't be cheap, man. He has a nice face, man, but there's only misfortune in his head.

-------

can we talk about cell and mike i am insane

i love the cell/mike dynamic so much,, mike hates cell so fucking much for what he did to pac. he forgave him once, never again.

pac cant help but forgive cell again and again and again, every single time, so if pac can't hold a grudge mike will do it for him

something something about pac always going for dangerous people/being attracted to danger in general and mike always having to protect pac cuz he wont fucking protect himself

[lotus-pear]

free will is drawing ur two favorite characters together and making them gay

[hazbingirliexoxo]

Alastor: Do you ever wonder how many houses you’ve passed in your lifetime that have people locked in the basement?😃

Reader: ….

Angel: Like in a kinky BDSM kinda way or…?

Reader: What the actual fuck is wrong with you two?

[tthelady]

Not aventurine coming for Sunday 😭

[limbcom]

look, theyre twinning

[eliziarts]

[kreemakai]

Fallout 4 is one of my favorite games, so I'm pumped to see a bunch of people coming back to it after watching the Fallout show on Amazon.

So, in case you're new here (or just haven't experienced this masterpiece yet)

Here's a 2 hour long, wacky ass adventure involving some of the original voice actors from Fallout 4. Nick Valentine, Hancock, and Danse all make prominent appearances, with a quick cameo from MacCready! This shit gets wild, y'all.

[dykealloy]

one piece filler ep where they run into another peto-peto villain of the week guy but this time instead the devil fruit power rearranges people's brain chemistry so they have the thoughts behaviours emotional intelligence etc of a dog. zoro gets hit but he's just exactly the same

[aceinacloset]

I want them to argue

I headcanon that in arguments, Baby always keeps a cold face and cold exterior to make it seem like nothing phases her, but you can tell she's angry. While Ballora is seething and seconds away from killing someone, when anyone tests her patience to an extreme degree.

[lotus-pear]

sorry for no art i’ve been playing persona 4 golden and i’m kneedeep in tv world hell 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

average newsona fan when they realize they can’t myriad truths their way through every single fucking battle and have to actually play the game