#enjoy my word salad

[littlefingies]

So I'm rewatching 2x04 and 2x05 and thinking about Lucius. And I think there's a decent chance that:

The Revenge is his first experience on a pirate ship, and

He and Stede are the only ones in this situation.

The show makes a point of telling us that the other people on the ship either have experience with pirating/violence, or have had a shit time of it so far.

We know Jim's backstory.

Olu doesn't have lots of combat experience, but between his "we have no other choice" speech and "la vida es dolor", he's had a rough go.

Roach sewed his own arm up once.

Wee John demonstrates his weapon with gusto and clearly has pyro experience.

Buttons just straight up tells us.

Pete may be lying (put him down as a maybe) but he's clearly happy to be here.

Frenchie was "in service" and has seen enough of the world to find it pretty blase.

The Swede could potentially be a maybe. We just know nothing about him.

We know that Lucius can read, and we know that he used to pick pockets, but he seems uncomfortable with violence in a way that only Stede shares. (See: "yeah he looks pretty stunned" re: Nigel Badminton)

So why am I thinking about this?

I think it's interesting that Lucius is the only one disturbed by Ed's weird half-apology speech in 2x05. AND I think there's a good chance that the horrors he experienced on the other ships (after getting thrown overboard) were yes, horrors, but also pretty standard for pirate life.

By this point in the show we have Archie, who gives us a window into how most pirates (who have never met Stede) would view the Kraken-era Revenge. And she seems to see it as... fairly normal? She's a bit perturbed by Izzy, and she's pissed at being asked to fight Jim, but she seems to see all the rest as pretty average.

This sets up a really juicy contrast between life under piracy in general vs. life under Stede piracy.

Lucius is the only character to experience pirate life when his *only prior pirate experience* was under Stede. That makes him a modern window into the show - he's like "wow this is fucking terrible", as we would no doubt agree if we were thrust into that situation.

Anyways, something about perspective, something about Lucius thinking his experiences have been uniquely violent when they probably haven't (not that they weren't awful), something about Blackbeard being a pirate but not a uniquely violent one, something about Izzy saying possibly his first true thing all show (yeah I lost a leg, I'm a fucking pirate, this happens all the time), something about how if Lucius told Archie about what he went through, she'd say "oh so you were... on a pirate ship? Yeah, piracy sucks, but so does everything else".

Something about how if any other crew members had that experience *before* meeting stede I think they'd find it pretty normal as well. Because the point of piracy in the show is that it's not a fun adventure, it's actually violent and awful and the people you care about are always at risk. (It's also one of the few ways to survive when there's not a place for you in a colonized world, I think? But I'm not the right person to write about that and others have said it better.)

[ntls-24722]

trash man. music man scupture made out of metallic trash. piece of phone as his brain. i have a key to a lawnmower what if i use it as a windup key. what if i made a music box. google how do i make a music box can i make a comb out of trash how do clock work mechanisms work. incorporate feathers into this somehow. hat? i have a tiny feather it can be in his hat. what if i use pieces of acorn as a hat. but how to make nose. hmmm

what should his heart be made of. he should have a heart. mmmm. bracelet pieces

[titaniumions]

i think it's probably somewhat clear that i see isolde and kakania as lesbians (seems to be a common hc anyway) but i think i want to explore how that'd fit into their respective characterizations, not necessarily only from a shipping standpoint. note that this does get into headcanon territory, still i try to keep it as in-character as i can

i think kakania would actually be pretty open about it. in the 1910s?? i mean sure, she's already a controversy as she is ... an arcanist, an uncertified psychiatrist with unconventional methods, an outspoken member of society who stirs up public opinion. might as well give herself one more reason to be a subject of controversy. those who are set on hating her probably have no intention of changing that, so hey, might as well authentically be herself in every possible way including this. among those who have a more positive opinion about her, i do think this would make her somewhat of an icon. she draws other members of the community toward her. she lets them know that she is there for them and will fight for them. that they can turn to her and she will not scrutinize them for it. she'd tell them, no, there is nothing wrong with being this way. it isn't something you need to be "cured" from

in line with this, i think it would make sense for the "circle" to be a queer safe space. in fact, i like to think theophil himself could've been bi and thus would've accepted his sister's sexuality. but due to her own inhibitions (which i will touch upon later) i don't think isolde would ever have told him.

meanwhile for isolde ... i think it's more complicated. having a sexuality outside of the norm would be a deviation from the socially acceptable definition of the "perfect noble" she tries to be. so even if she were to ever consider it, she would simply end up pushing those thoughts away. no, not a chance. this shouldn't bother her at all. she's supposed to be perfect, yet she already has enough problems in her life as a member of the dittarsdorf family. considering the possibility of herself being anything but straight would lead to more problems, wouldn't it? and that's the last thing she needs. nonetheless she's ... never been attracted to a man either. but she tries not to think too much of it. maybe she just needs to wait it out. or so she tells herself

now to piece it all together ... i do really like the idea of kakania being her ... awakening. in fact i think it would make a lot of sense for her story, what with kakania being the metaphorical key to the doors that have always surrounded and confined isolde ... so hear me out. when isolde started associating with her and the circle she realized that it felt far less suffocating than ... pretty much any other aspect of her life. it's like a breath of fresh air. kakania in particular would fascinate isolde, in a way that makes isolde question things about herself. perhaps she even comes close to having a realization. but again, isolde remembers who she needs to be, and stops herself short.

eventually though, she would learn what kind of person kakania is, and what she believes in and fights for. this only deepens isolde's admiration further and she finally comes to a point of acceptance about her feelings. alright. i can accept this realization now. she no longer pushes it to the back of her mind. there's still a bit of repression and shame left in there but meeting someone who has not only awakened her, but also wouldn't judge her for it, has changed something within her entirely. the feelings overflow and she can deny it no longer. but again, at the end of the day she still needs to be perfect and socially acceptable. she can't just ... exist as freely as kakania does. but it's alright, isolde has feigned compliance for so long regardless of however difficult it might be. putting up with expectations has been a regular part of her life. so there it is, something authentic about this actor that she can't show to anyone else because it doesn't fit the part that she's supposed to play. kakania is allowed to know though, of course she is. it can just be their little secret. and one way or another, she'll figure out how isolde feels toward her. surely kakania would be quite honored to be on the receiving end of the affection of such a wonderful lady. as long as this affection doesn't eventually turn into a catalyst for destruction, right ...

[mummer]

fundamentally i think my issue with remembrance day is that its purpose is to thank fallen conscripted soldiers but what we should really be doing is apologizing to them

[scrawlingskribbles]

my brain started trying to cobble together a LiS Goldfinch au today and I am desperately thwapping it with a broom on repeat until it shuts up about it lmfao

[asclepyus]

Hi! Dropping by to say thank you so much for sharing the Zheng Chenggong / FSR Archer post a while back, there were a lot of good thoughts on there! I'm also,,, massively biased for both of them but especially Zheng Chenggong (read a lot of history articles + a book or two on him,,), so it's cool to see someone who feels similarly on here haha

AAAA THIS IS SO SWEET THANK YOU !! SAME HAT !!

I had just started F/SR for the first time about halfway through June during a really really hard week and the way I latched onto these two like a baby alligator. They’re both so compelling and well written in the game I absolutely adoredddd their dynamic with my entire heart and that launched me into a lot of my own research and reading up on the two of them (if you have any book recs btw !! pls throw them my way I love books !!) and both of them are just so beautifully tragic in their own rights. Fate also has a track record of taking a lot of liberties with their characters and actual histories but F/SR I really felt did a pretty good job all things considered of respecting and allowing the real life history of these figures to influence their character arcs in the game - especially with these two in particular - and I’m so obsessed with it genuinely.

I also really love just psychoanalyzing fictional characters I like and turning it into meta it’s very fun.

[vaguenotions]

I really hate feeling irrational and upset over food. One of the worst things to be upset about. It feels SO fucking stupid.

[hexedrosel-arts]

After writing that mesh of words for my Ocs I have realized that kindergarten has affected my brain chemistry.

Specifically in the sibling angst department

There's the one-sided rivalry for Teddy and Felix. Does Teddy even know, is he pretending to not notice that Felix doesn't like him? Is there some secret love for Teddy in Felix's rotted heart, is he justifying that he wants his brother dead? They are only pixels on a screen, we don't get that backstory, we can only infer.

There is love in Teddy's heart. Even when he is thrown down a pit and given spiders to salt the wound, he still calls out Felix to help him. It's all he knows, it will end up being the only he knows. He loved Felix like the sun, only to be stomped out like a glow in the dark star. When he kills Felix, that love is gone, down, down, down it goes with Felix. What will happen now, the only he cared about has now become one with the same sand and dirt he was treated as.

If Felix gets older, does he ever feel hollow? Does he think that even in the end, Teddy calls out to him? Despite being buried in a sandbox, in a moment where Teddy could scream and yell at him all the bile that could be in throat, he calls out for help. He calls for Felix, not anyone else, just Felix. And Felix calls out for Teddy once, for when he is going to be struck down by lighting. He wants to Teddy to suffer, but maybe he just doesn't want to remember the tears running down Teddy's face.

For my Ocs, there is Opal and .A.M.Y, forever intertwined in hatred. Two people who are one in the same, but oh so different. They are everything and nothing to each other.

Opal is a program, emotions disabled, no need for convincing her to turn them off. She is made to protect her siblings, her older sister most importantly. But she hates her, she wants her dead. But she can't die. She can't die and Opal can't kill her. She wants to, but she doesn't have wants or feelings, they're unnecessary. She knows she will die before these feelings ever go away, no matter how many times she deletes them, so she'll turn them off. Love only makes the pain worse, knowing her older sister will never be the girl she was, the girl Opal was supposed to be. The perfect daughter for her father.

.A.M.Y is unaware of the hate of her sister. It doesn't matter, she hates her back. She knows that Opal is the replacement of her. She knew before she was able to say her own name. Opal means nothing to her, there is no reason for them to care or pretend. Despite that, that's her little sister, that's the girl who was raised with her in mind. That same little girl who before she dies just asks for Amy to see fireworks for her, the little girl who hands her a cloud hair-clip, the one who supplies metal for Amy's work.

Siblings with a rivalry, with love in their hearts for the other, with hatred. Intertwined, always one and the same, so different, so similar, looking a cracked mirror of yourself.. Do they share the same laugh, do they smile the same way? It won't matter because one will die and the other will not(they will always find each other again, they will always live for things out of their control, but maybe if they keep trying to kill the other, the cycle will break.)

Lily and Billy, the thought of never finding your sibling again. The separation hurts. What if you were a second too late? Would they look for you if you disappeared? You know they will, they always have. But if they don't this time?

Lily was the inquisitive one, she always studied her way to find out what she needs. Does she ever worry that Billy will get kidnapped again? She did a lot on her own but she is capable without him? Is she able to think of a way to keep her own to save him again? What if Kidd isn't there, what if the new threat takes Kidd as well? It doesn't matter, because she will try as much as possible to save everyone and she has her brother to help her.

Billy was the planning type, he got people on his side, he planned quickly, he never had a moment of questioning his plans, he knows it will work in the end. Does he worry that Lily won't get the facts in time? Will she get too hurt to help? Will no one else come to aid them? It doesn't matter, because he will try to save everyone and he has his sister to help him.

My Ocs that somewhat fit these two are Ash and Elliott. They are a corrupted version of these two. A second too late, unable to help the other. You always saved him before, why did you fail now? Why didn't you go and rescue him? The separation hurts, it hurts more knowing that you didn't even try in his eyes.

Elliott was always the brave one, the brave little brother, the one who got rid of spiders and help his brother water the garden. He did everything to help his brother. His brother helped back until that day. He expected his brother to save him, he always did when he was in trouble. He finally did, but it was too long ago. It's been 7 years, Elliott was almost a teenager now. His brother finally came to help, but it was too late, it was way too late.

Ash was frightened easily, and a crybaby. He hated spiders and the dark. He cried when his little brother's first word was his name, when his brother was born and when he was gone. He meant to save him, he really meant to. He only tripped a little too late. He was only 8, who expected him to save his brother? He still tried, he left home, he searched when his family and others wouldn't. Ash finally found his brother, but it was way too late. He tried so hard to help, but it was too late.

Trying so hard to save someone, unaware if you'll succeed but despite everything, you will try. You just hope your not too late, and you know your brother is hoping that you're not too late.

[gyuswhore]

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl. 

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against. 

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you. 

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel. 

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today. 

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight. 

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?” 

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day. 

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job? 

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu. 

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow. 

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse. 

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers. 

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands. 

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion. 

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?” 

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet. 

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now. 

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher. 

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment. 

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare. 

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion. 

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either. 

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention. 

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise. 

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on. 

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you. 

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him. 

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS��� sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine. 

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send. 

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer. 

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators. 

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same. 

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait. 

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow. 

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day. 

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire. 

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave. 

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him. 

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning. 

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?” 

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were. 

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance. 

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open. 

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day. 

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting. 

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love. 

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels. 

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command. 

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.  

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint. 

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again. 

“What are you—” 

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.” 

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with. 

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse. 

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless. 

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss. 

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more. 

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly. 

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt. 

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe. 

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in. 

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions. 

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly. 

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips. 

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again. 

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing. 

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth. 

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before. 

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself. 

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.” 

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words. 

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants. 

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt. 

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now. 

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you. 

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen. 

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead. 

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close. 

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you. 

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks. 

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog. 

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs. 

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago. 

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway. 

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you. 

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.” 

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.” 

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio. 

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him. 

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic. 

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back. 

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.” 

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes. 

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

 It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works. 

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

 “I love you,” he yells. 

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.” 

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling. 

“Mingyu!” 

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him. 

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you. 

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week. 

[poisonf0rest]

Overc*mming Writer's Block 3

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕

♱⋅── zayne x reader

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

♱⋅── word count: 10.8k holy

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, bondage, oral, pussydrunk zayne, PRAISE kink, breeding kink, actual sex this time, no more blue balling, nightly rendezvous card

art credit to @/chimmyming on X

“So, you and Dr. Zayne?”

You damn near choke on your salad. Coughing, you place your fork down before turning to glare at Anvi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiles, as if that was confirmation enough. “I’ve heard a thing or two from hospital gossips—“

“Vi, you are the hospital gossip.”

“—that the cold, yet steaming hot doctor was finally seen accepting the company of someone else. Not to mention at the gala last weekend he was by your side all night long. Or so I was told.” 

Anvi leans in, smiling wide enough to burst her pretty face as you scowl down at your lunch, unable to meet her eyes. Fighting to keep your voice even, you nudge her off, stabbing a carrot. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not involved with Dr. Zayne, he’s too—“ Attentive? Intelligent? God don’t think of him eating you out right now. “He’s not my type.”

You feel your ears burn, but by the grace of some god Anvi doesn’t seem to notice. Pouting she sighs and sinks back into the cafeteria booth. “Aww man, I was really rooting for you, too.”

“Rooting for a nonexistent relationship?” 

Anvi’s about to say something, big doe eyes almost frantically darting between yours before she huffs and shakes her head, something akin to pity tightening her smile.

You raise a brow but she only shrugs, going back to picking at her lunch. “Just as well, a relationship between a resident and her boss would be quite the juicy scandal. Something straight out of a romcom, no?” 

Laughter rips from your chest, the sheer irony of both her words and your reality too much to bear. Anvi’s windshield wiper giggles join your own, and soon the two of you are wheezing under your breath as you get side-eyed by the other surgeons trying to enjoy their lunch. 

Really, whoever your author was had a fucked up sense of humor. 

But the moment is ruined by the buzz of your pager, and you barely say bye to Anvi before you’re rushed to the operating bay. 

As of today, you have two days to finish your manuscript. 

Today's shift was exhausting, but you’ve learned early into your career that writing is a discipline, and as fickle of a muse as inspiration is, a writer cannot simply wait for her to grace you with her presence. Whether you feel like it or not, this book has to get done. 

Besides, what better mindset was there to churn out unhinged shenanigans than when you’re delirious and half-asleep, tucked away in the on-call room? 

Okay, so perhaps not the best place to be, but logically if your shift finished only minutes ago and you had to page in at five AM yet again, you’re better off just staying here rather than driving back to your apartment and all the way back to the hospital again.

Opening your personal laptop, you tab onto your novel's draft, the flashing cursor taunting you as your editor’s comments blur into an overwhelming mess of red. While you’ve worked your way through just about half of her six-thousand comments, that still leaves far too many, especially on your novel’s villain slash love interest as the trope always goes. 

You’re halfway through cutting cringey dialogue on a specific scene, but your thoughts keep drifting. Your conversation with Anvi keeps playing in your mind— romcom, dating, scandal, boss. You suppress the heat rising in your chest, trying to ignore the reality you really don't want to face. 

Zayne is… too much. Too intelligent, too caring, too perfect at catching you off guard.

Shaking your head, you try re-focusing, but between sleep deprivation and the realization that you haven’t actually done anything physical with Zayne for nearly a week, you get far too distracted. 

It’s not that you haven’t seen him since the gala. Far from it, really. Nearly every night if your shifts happen to end around the same time, he offers to drive you home. And when your shifts don’t align, you always make the effort to cook something together, breakfast or dinner, at ungodly hours of the morning or evening. And if neither of those happened, you would watch a movie, at least for a few minutes till one or both of you fell asleep on your ratty couch. 

God, you’re a fool. You can’t help but want him by your side even now, loving the way he reacts to your inappropriate comments, loving the way he scoffs at your jokes, loving the way he notices even the most minute things about you. And yet there’s a distance you can’t explain, a growing space you’re both too afraid to fill.

You close your laptop with a soft sigh, rubbing your eyes as you lay back on the small cot, trying to block out the nagging ache in your chest.

Your phone buzzes from under the cot, and you glance at it absently. You nearly jump at Zayne’s icon flashing on your screen.

grumpy snowman: Under recent developments I’d like to inform you of two things. One, you are banned from the hospital all of tomorrow under strict orders by me. Two, I currently have Mr. Whiskers held hostage, and should you fail to return home by 02:59 I will be forced to perform pulmonary bypass puncture and stop his heart. 

Dumbfounded, you stare at Zayne’s text, blinking in confusion. Did your sleep deprivation just hallucinate a text? Violently shaking your head, you look back at your phone with slightly spinning vision just to confirm that no, this was very much real and Zayne has very much lost it. 

ms. author: Is this a threat?

Another text follows immediately after.

grumpy snowman: Consider it your last chance. Come back and save him, or else... this may as well be his final night. 

An image sends then, your favorite calico cat plushy all tied up with what appears to be Zayne’s tie, dangling the poor thing as though being held hostage. Your gaze lingers for longer than it should on how Zayne’s hands look in the dim lighting of the photo, so busy trailing up the veins on his lithe fingers that you nearly miss his next text. 

grumpy snowman: I’ve already called an Uber. It’s waiting outside. 

You snort into the empty room, rolling to sit up straight.He’s the last person you’d expect to pull this sort of thing. It’s nothing short of ridiculous, but truly you don’t know the last time you’ve smiled this wide, and it’s precisely the distraction you need right now, especially if he’s already gone through the trouble of organizing it all himself. But like you’d go down without a fight. 

ms. author: You’re being ridiculous, you’d never hurt Mr. Whiskers you devil. You don’t have the guts.

His reply is swift, almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: Do I now? Care to test that theory?

You can practically hear the smugness in his text, the playful challenge laced with a quiet but unmistakable sincerity. Your heart gives an unexpected flutter, the weight in your chest easing, if only slightly. Quite a villain, indeed.

You know what Zayne’s doing. He’s not just playing around; he’s pulling you out of your head, out of the self-imposed spiral you’ve yet again been retreating into. You’ve spent the better half of the week in it. 

You bite your lip, considering your options. On one hand, you could brush him off—continue working, ignore the text, but something inside of you craves this attention. Craves his uncharacteristic ridiculousness. Craves the break from your mind that he’s offering.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head I’ll put an end to your tyranny myself.

Zayne doesn’t waste a second, sending only a single warning: Hurry. 

You stand, grabbing your jacket and keys, and only then do you second guess this. The easy, safe choice would be to stay buried in your work, it would be to politely decline and place must-needed distance and formality back. 

But for the first time in a while there’s something you want more than work, and as you slip out of the on-call room, the image of Mr. Whiskers hanging helplessly from Zayne’s tie is enough to pull you out of the hospital.

You push your front door open, the silence of your apartment making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The lights are off— odd, considering you could have sworn you left a lamp on. You always do, a force of habit since you live in a slightly less safe area of Linkon. Oh, the things you do for cheaper rent. 

Pausing, your eyes scan the deceptively empty hallway and kitchen. Everything feels still, almost eerie, and your pulse quickens as you take your shoes off, right beside Zayne’s much larger dress shoes, to venture further into your apartment. 

The faintest creak of floorboards makes you freeze. Your heart stutters slightly, the scare making you grip your chest as you whirl around, cursing out your cowardice. You’ve seen worse things wheeled into the ER. Please, get a grip. 

You shake off the nerves just as your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence once more.

grumpy snowman: You’re cutting it close. Five minutes before Mr. Whiskers meets an untimely demise.

You can't help the amused snort that escapes you, the tension in your body breaking.

ms. author: You really went this far? What now, villain?

The response is almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: It’s a matter of life or death. I hope you're prepared.

Another photo attachment follows—your favorite Christmas blanket thrown over the couch cushions in disarray, the faintest corner of Mr. Whiskers peeking out beneath it. The living room. You shake your head, muttering under your breath about the audacity of smug geniuses with far too much time on their hands.

You make your way to the living room in the dark, you flick on a lamp as you approach the couch. Lifting the blanket to find… nothing but a sticky note.

It reads, in painfully pretty cursive: Nice try, but you’ll have to be quicker.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: You fell for that as well? I expected better. Already 02:56, time’s running out.

You scoff, unable to stop yourself from laughing despite the absurdity.

ms. author: Do you even have anything better to do?

grumpy snowman: Not lately. Someone’s been too busy to properly entertain me.

You read it once, twice, and still something in your chest squeezes painfully at that.

Folding up the note, you stare at the text a moment longer before you hear the echoing click of a door. It’s coming from upstairs. 

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: While you’re lost in thought again, care to explain why you’ve been running yourself into the ground? 

You pause, stalling as you make your way to your stairs.

ms. author: I am writing.

grumpy snowman: Poorly, if you’re overworking. Can’t imagine the tension’s working out if it’s still stuck in your head.

ms. author: Gasp. Excuse you—

Another buzz interrupts, just as you make it to your bedroom door, old wood announcing your arrival with a groan. The culprit has to be just behind it. 

grumpy snowman: 3 minutes remaining. Mr. Whiskers won’t be around much longer.

You can practically feel Zayne’s grin through the phone, and for a brief moment, you’re glad he’s here, even if it’s all in jest. He’s right although you might never admit it; this whole absurd situation—your plushie, the stupid texts, the teasing—has done what no amount of coffee or sleepless daydreaming could.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head, I swear I’ll come for you.

Your hand latches onto your bedroom handle, biting your lip as you pause to type one last jab. 

ms. author: I don’t know why I’m indulging you.

grumpy snowman: Because you love it when I win.

A laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. Shaking your head, you push the door open.

Your bedroom is dim, the curtains drawn, but moonlight spills through the dusky purple veils, illuminating the bed.

Perched atop lies Mr. Whiskers, your darling calico plushie sitting in the center, fully unharmed even though his crystalline eyes speak of unimaginable horrors at the hands of his captor. 

Before you can grab him, movement from the corner of the room nearly startles you into jumping halfway across the room. Zayne, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watches you with a slight upturned grin that makes your stomach twist.

“You’re a horrible villain.” You huff, all but lunging on your bed to hug Mr. Whiskers to your chest like a shield.

His lips twitch into a smile, the bastard, and you can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his hair a little mussed and his glasses slipping down his nose. He doesn’t have his coat or suit jacket on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a sight you haven’t grown tired of.

God, you really have a thing for forearms. Or maybe it’s just a thing for Zayne.

“Since we’re critiquing each other, you’re not much of a hero. Hiding behind a plushie doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.” 

“Confidence isn’t my priority right now.” You clutch Mr. Whiskers tighter, narrowing your eyes. He’s not here to talk about morals and heroism, though. “I’ve been fine. Nothing more than proofreading left… that and a few problem-children scenes.”

“Then consider this me fulfilling my half of the contract,” Zayne says, effortlessly seeing past your usual bullshit. “For someone who claims they’re adequately inspired, you’ve been more distant than usual.”

“I don’t need a lecture.”

“No lecture.” He steps closer, “I just missed you.”

Again, Zayne's words catch you off guard, so blunt they make your chest ache. No empty flattery, no pretty words, simply stated as though they were facts. 

He takes another step forward, and you have to lean back on your elbows— nearly lying back on the bed— to maintain eye contact as he looms above you. 

And then, Zayne drops to his knees before you.

It’s a far more graceful movement than it has any right to be, all six foot something of him kneeling against the foot of your bed as you instinctively make room for him there. Slowly, his hands come up to your thighs, the two of you slotting together with ease.

“Admit it,” Zayne whispers, the sweet, minty heat of his breath caressing your lips as you shiver, leaning closer despite yourself. “This helped.” A wry smile, “and that I make a convincing villain.”

“What’s this, is the doctor Zayne fishing for compliments?”

“I don’t need compliments. I just want you to stop pretending in front of me– no more performances.” 

Heat rises to your face, and your stomach twists. He's too close, he's always too close, but god, why has this domesticity become so natural around him? 

Despite yourself, you look down at his hands again, taking in how easily his scarred palms cup your thighs, the pale contrast of his skin against yours. Lithe, long fingers, and the memory of how well they’ve treated you. You swear he must feel your heart pound where his thumbs brush circles against your inner thighs, your body nothing but responsive for him. 

But if he does, he spares you the embarrassment. Zayne only continues to look up into your face, and just as you begin thinking of equally inappropriate jokes or fun facts to break the silence, Zayne moves closer, his knee pressing between your thighs as the mattress dips to accommodate his weight. 

“Perhaps there is a performance you could help me with, since you’re clearly the expert here.”

You blink, one step behind Zayne’s master plan yet again. “What- help you?”

“Yes. See, I’ve been thinking about my next move as a villain, and…” Before you can even follow Zayne’s words, Mr. Whiskers is yanked from your grasp once more. One hand raises him into the air and the other lunges for your outstretched arms, pinning them to the bed as it creaks and groans under the sudden assault. “I think I’ll take Mr. Whiskers as my captive once again.”

A soft gasp leaves your lips as Zayne shifts above you, his knee grinding up just enough to have you aching between your legs. Everything spins, torn between the desire to rescue Mr. Whiskers and the overwhelming urge to give in, to pull Zayne closer, to finally, finally fuck him yourself.

But before you can decide, the hand pinning your wrists tightens, his thumb rubbing circles as he effortlessly restrains you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you curse, though the tremor in your voice betrays your excitement.

“Ridiculous?” Zayne repeats, arching a brow. “Perhaps you should start taking this seriously, my dear protagonist.” He drops his voice into something rich, dark, and deliciously villainous. The hand that pins you down holds firm, the other dangles your plushie overhead with mocking menace. 

You scoff, though it comes out shakier than intended. “I could write circles around your attempts at being evil.”

“Could you?” Unbuttoning his shirt, Zayne gets only halfway before abandoning it entirely, letting the buttons skew across his chest. He watches with a growing smile as your eyes flutter downward against your better judgment. “Then why don’t you show me.”

Zayne nods to your phone, eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. “Open the doc, show me the scene. Any attempts to rescue the captive will be met with appropriate punishment.” 

The way Zayne looks down at you, waiting—daring— to see if you would make him stop, sends a sinful flutter through your core, ricocheting up your spine. No longer trusting your voice, you nod and feel the pressure loosen ever so slightly on your wrists. 

You only have time to pull your phone out from your scrub’s back pocket before Zayne captures your wrists again, the tie once used on Mr. Whiskers now knotted efficiently right above your wrists. It should be frightening, how easy it is for him to manhandle you, but you feel nothing but painful arousal at that fact.

You’re still growling out faux protests when Zayne plucks the phone from your hands, his knee keeping your hips firmly pinned against the mattress.

“Ah,” Zayne murmurs, scrolling casually through your doc. “A scene involving betrayal, a chase, and…” He raises a brow. “Passionate accusations of treachery.”

You thrash beneath him, trying to buck off his weight as your face burns in embarrassment. “Enough! You’re supposed to help, not—”

“Not what?” He glances at you briefly, lips pursed in a halfhearted attempt to mask his amusement. “Not put your villain to the test? I’ll admit I might have ulterior motives, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”

Zayne then waves the plushie just out of reach before dangling him on the windowsill for dramatic emphasis.

“I swear to god, if you harm Mr. Whiskers!”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “Hush. You’ll want to hear this.” 

Zayne clears his throat, the smirk on his lips unmistakable as he picks up where you left off in editing your manuscript. His voice drops into a faux-sinister drawl as he begins to narrate. “‘You can hate me all you want,’ the villain growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. ‘But that fire in your eyes only makes me want to break you more.’”

It's horrible, the way he reads the words, the tone and cadence he gives the prose, and worst of all, the way his unblinking gaze remains completely, utterly, fixed on you as he speaks.

“Zayne, please, don’t- this is embarrassing,” you beg to appeal to reason, still writhing against his tie, when you realize his grip against your hips has loosened.

Zayne’s attention is momentarily diverted as he scrolls through the doc, looking for another section to read, and you kick your knee up with a shout, jabbing it into his side as the two of you tumble across the bed. 

Lunging, you manage to grab Mr. Whiskers for all of two seconds before Zayne hauls you up by your bound wrists, forcing you arms above your head as you are pulled back against him. He’s rough, forcing your spine to arch against his chest as you hiss on impact, head thrown back against Zayne’s shoulder. “Ah-ah. What did I say about attempts to rescue the captive?” 

His tone is all mockery, grip iron against your waist even though you can tell he’s still holding himself back. Feeling each hot, ragged breath against the back of your neck, the smell of ambroxan and sandalwood surrounding you. You breathe in deeper, shaking despite yourself.

“Let go of me!”

‘’Close. I believe the actual line was ‘unhand me.’”

Zayne hauls you further up the mattress, hooking your bound wrists onto the post of your bedframe as this new position forces you to face the wall, all while his free hand adjusts his glasses, scanning the next few lines. “‘I’d rather die than let you win!’ she spat, her chest heaving with defiance—” He glances at you with deadpan incredulity. “Why is everyone always heaving in these scenes? Do they all have asthma?”

“You’re the worst,” you hiss, breathless from the struggle. See? Heaving, no asthma involved, just foreplay. 

“And yet…” Zayne’s voice comes closer, and you feel his bare chest once again at your back, “you’re the one who wrote it. I’m simply giving you an immersive experience.”

“Can’t be fully immersive if I have yet to believe you, villain.” Scoffing, you turn around, craning your neck just to glare him in the eyes. “You don’t have what it takes.”

Zayne chuckles, then silence. Forcing your head towards the wall again, you feel him lean down, still out of sight despite the heat radiating off his body, his nose brushing down your bare throat as he spits out the next line.

“Brat.”

You hate how immediately your body responds to that. How you shiver and lean back despite the restraints, how a part of you wants to fight, to keep the act going, because god, the idea of letting Zayne do anything he wants to you is enough to make your head spin.

Zayne’s teeth press against your neck, just below your ear, and you whine, the sound so small and deprived that you instantly bite your tongue and curse yourself for reacting like this.

So then he does it again.

A pitched gasp.

A broken moan.

Each noise he elicits from you is another cruel victory, and when you grind your ass back against Zayne’s increasingly obvious erection, he all but tears your scrubs down your thighs, the cotton of your panties not standing a chance against his desperation. 

In truth, Zayne had never been harder in his life. Did he intentionally pick the most on-the-nose dialogue just to watch you squirm? Perhaps. But he’d be lying if he said seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted attempts to fight him, accidentally grinding your ass against him with every squirm didn’t make him want to push you even further. 

Every breath came out heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading, large palms alternating between slapping and gently squeezing your ass. 

“You’re greedy,” a kiss against your shoulder, shucking your scrubs down your knees. “Impatient,” another kiss, this time down your spine, throwing your pants across the bedroom. “And utterly disobedient.” 

You’re already stripped bare from the chest down. 

He can't deny the sight of you in such a compromising position is a sight to behold, and the urge to keep reading just to see how far he can push you is intoxicating. Panting, he pauses only to readjust his glasses, foggy and slipping down his nose. 

You, however, are too impatient.

"Zayne, please, you got your point across. You win. Just— ah, just fuck me already."

It's the first time in nearly a week that Zayne gets to hear you ask for him, beg for him, and it's all the reminder he needs for his body to fail him, shuttering against you with a moan of his own. How did he survive so long without this? Without you? 

Your voice rings against his skull, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. Moan his name, beg for him, scream it, call it out, anything. He needs you, irreversibly.

And not just for this.

So instead, Zayne looks back at your doc one last time, reading, “To think this is the city’s great hero. How I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a click, your phone turns off, tossed carelessly to the floor with a heavy thud that would have sent you into a panic had Zayne not chosen that exact moment to bite into the soft flesh behind your neck, thumb instantly finding your clit. 

The sensation alone is enough to make you cry, arching further up against the bindings. His hand snakes back around your hip, grounding, just barely brushing against the heat of your cunt, and the way he breathes out a low, half-delirious chuckle at the sound of you panting his name has your core fluttering for more.

"Please, Zayne, please," you whine, and the second the pleas leave your mouth, his thumb presses delicious circles into your neglected bundle of nerves. You whine, loud and needy, the second his fingers sink inside, held up only by Zayne’s arm wrapped around your waist and the tie pinning you against the bed frame. 

“Already begging? I wonder how much more obedient you’ll be after I fuck it all out of you.” And god, Zayne wanted to mock such an obscenely written line just to watch you blush all over, because what sort of villain would actually say such a thing? 

But when he sees you whimper at his words, when you arch so willingly into his punishment, when he feels your heartbeat quicken under his fingertips, he suddenly can’t say he faults any of these romance writers, for he now knows he’d do far worse than any of their cardboard villains. 

Zayne doesn’t even need to read the next line in the doc to know exactly what he’d do next. 

All but falling to the mattress, Zayne pulls your hips up, up until you’re atop his face, sinking his tongue between your folds before dragging all the way up to your clit, sucking with enough tension to make you scream. 

Your hands burn from where they chafe and fight against the tie, bucking violently against Zayne’s face, the cold kiss of his glasses frames making you jolt as he pulls your hips toward him like it’s the last thing keeping him sane.

“No,” Zayne groans between breaths, unable to part with you as he messily kisses your inner thigh before coaxing two fingers inside you with a thrust. “Don’t run. Do not run from me.”

Every scissor of his fingers forces obscene sounds from your cunt, silenced only by Zayne’s mouth and his own muffled praises. Granted, it didn’t matter how loud he was being, not with all of your delirious moans, completely unsuppressed as Zayne’s calculated ministrations took you apart thrust by thrust. 

At least you can remember being thankful that your apartment walls were sound-proofed. Breath ragged, mind spinning, only mindlessly fighting back as you babble, “Wait, you’re so- ah- fuck. Zayne!”

Quite canonically to your villain, Zayne’s hips buck into empty air in time to every thrust of his fingers, imagining it was his cock fucking deep into you instead. It’s a line he’s fantasized about crossing time and time again. 

But that’s where it stops. Fantasy. Because just the thought of it has Zayne groaning into your cunt, the taste and feel of you alone driving him insane, a point of obsession where he cannot allow himself to go any further. He can’t. He can’t, he really shouldn’t. 

He’d never recover, he’d never stop wanting— needing you. He’s addicted enough as is.

Zayne’s shirt had almost fully unbuttoned but his trousers remained, bulging as his cock wept from its prison against his thigh, fabric dark and painfully restraining. The mere friction was too little and overstimulating all at once. Even so, he can’t help but chase the phantom feeling, grinding against nothing as you fall apart above him.

When your shaking thighs finally begin to lock around his jaw, he welcomes the cage, burrowing his face deeper as the strong arch of his nose presses against your throbbing clit. Zayne’s slick fingers are delegated to merely keeping your hips still, his tongue fucking you through your orgasm as his hips follow your same rhythm.

One touch, one touch is all he needs to cum with you, but Zayne refuses to do anything but work you through your high. He swallows the taste of you, open-mouthed and needy, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as you feel it hum through you. 

Gasping, you look down, and immediately you feel your core flutter— the sight enough to have you wishing he was back in between your thighs already.

Zayne’s entire body shakes beneath you, dark hair mused and hands digging into your hips in ways you know will leave half-moon marks. But what has you trembling is the sight of his hazel eyes eclipsed to near black, completely blown out and teary as they try and fail to focus on anything other than your pussy still fluttering above him. Something you can barely see at all, not with the amount of cum that squirted across his glasses, foggy and skewed across his nose as it too glistens with your release. 

It’s an obscene picture you only get for a moment before Zayne chucks his glasses off just to place a closer, deeper set of kisses on your cunt. Practically chasing every buck of your hips, he happily lets you ride his face until your room begins to blur yet again, weightless and utterly fucked. 

You’re panting, vision still coming back in waves as you register Zayne untying your hands, all the while kissing the light bruises that remain. 

And yet you can hardly think of anything other than the fact that he still hasn’t properly fucked you.

“Zayne,” you call, and god, something in your chest squeezes at just how fast he whips his head around, already ducking to meet your eyes as he scans down your face. There’s worry etched into his features, his eyes scanning yours like he’s already bracing for whatever you’ll say next.

“I’m sorry, I knew I should have taken better precautions. If your hands hurt I can get a salve from—”

“Fuck me.”

Silence. 

Zayne blinks, his mouth parting and eyes squinting as though he misheard– or somehow misread–  you.

“What?” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You sit up on your knees, pulling off your shirt one swift movement so you’re completely naked, then lean forward until your noses nearly touch, his eyes dropping to your breasts. The boldness only shakes him further. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you run away this time. I want—” Reaching your hand out, your fingers trail down Zayne’s bare chest, hardly even pushing for him to fall backward. And for you to follow on top. “I want to do this for you. I want you.”

Zayne’s breath is deceptively steady, and if you couldn't feel the ragged rhythm of his chest, rising and falling as it burns against your palm, you wouldn’t have believed he was affected at all. 

“You don’t-wait- have to—” he starts, but his voice breaks when your fingers trace the curve of his ribs, lips following suit as you place gentle kisses down his sternum, his slender abs, dangerously close to the v-line dipping into his pants that you can’t help but lick, smiling in delight as his words finally fail him. 

“Neither did you. You’re rather stubborn, doctor,” you insist, soft but unwavering. Resting your head against his thigh, you coax his jaw down to look at you, the palm still resting against his chest finding the erratic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Let me take care of you for once. Don’t you know good patients listen?”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, the sound strained as he looks down at you, right side of his lips curving into a faint smirk despite the way his body seems to ignite at your touch. “Bringing in our professional titles seems a little underhanded, don’t you think?” 

 “Ah, but it got your attention, didn’t it?” You don’t let him stall anyone— already he’s managed to keep this from you for weeks, really it’s a shame you haven’t stripped him earlier— letting your tongue trace the dip of his hip once more, humming as his muscles tense under the sudden attention. 

Greedy, your lips continue to worship every sharp edge and curve of Zayne’s abdomen, hands busy with his buckle until you manage to find a particularly sensitive spot just above his right hip bone. 

All his composure, all his calculated confidence, you want to break it apart until there’s nothing left but Zayne. Just Zayne. 

Zayne inhales sharply, eyes screwing shut as his mouth falls open in a picture of perfect debauchery you want etched into your mind forever. One hand fists into the sheets beside him, the other flying to your hair as your kisses turn to a dizzying mix of licks and nips. Hard enough to mark, you bite into skin, tongue flicking between your teeth, echoing across the room alongside the wet sounds of your mouth at work. 

“Ah, fuck.”

Cursing already? Perhaps this would be easier than you thought, but where’s the fun in that?

You pull back, watching Zayne blink in confusion as his hips twitch up toward your mouth, and you have to force back a laugh as he stares, bewildered, like he can hardly believe the sight in front of him.

His voice comes out huskier than before, low and coated with desire. "Why did you stop?"

You pull back just enough to look up at him, cheek resting on his thigh as you play with his zipper, never looking away from Zayne’s eyes even as they flutter closed in frustration, desperate for more. Tension practically radiates off of him, but you only smile, taking your time as you trail your fingers away from his zipper and bulge, teasing the sensitive edges of his hip and the skin peaking just over the edge of his trousers. 

“Don’t worry, doctor,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I’ll be sure to complete your procedure just as thoroughly as you did on me.” 

Oh, and Zayne must realize how utterly fucked he is, for you won’t be letting him go not until you’ve adequately paid him back for all the times he’s deliberately edged you to the point of tears, all the times he’s reprimanded your attitude, all the sweet punishments you’ve ensured that you’re going to give back to him tenfold. 

But before he can try and sweet-talk his way into mercy, your teeth catch on his zipper, dragging it down as your free hand unlaces his belt, tossing it across the room by the time his bulge presses out from between the metal teeth all on its own.

Achingly hard already, and you haven't even begun.

The fact that you know he’s this hard just from eating you out certainly doesn’t help. 

His boxers are soaking, the obvious bulge only emphasized by the way the damp cotton seems to stick to him, and god does the size of him make your core flutter. 

Maybe next time you’ll get him to come just by eating you out. 

Next time, though.

Without warning, your fingers wrap around his cock, freeing it from the confines of his boxers. A hiss grits out through Zayne’s teeth as his jaw clicks and a vein thrums against his neck from the pressure. 

You're so used to having Zayne above you, between your legs, teasing you senseless as his fingers or tongue bring you to the edge over and over again. And now, here he is. Spread out, and all yours to ravage.

The realization alone has you throbbing, prior orgasm all but forgotten as you feel the want burn between your thighs again.

If only he could see how wet you were already.

How could he not, with the way your hips were rocking against his still-clothed thigh, searching for the friction he wouldn’t give?

And yet, despite your impatience, your eyes never leave Zayne, watching the way his muscles flex as he resists the urge to move, ever obedient for you.

"Good boy," you purr, meaning only to tease him further, but instead of the faux glare or inscrutable comment you were expecting, Zayne tenses beneath you, his cock jumping against your palm. Your eyebrows raise, a breathless giggle betraying your intentions as you lean in closer.

"Oh? Do you like that, baby? Being told just how perfect you are for me?”

You're not sure what's more arousing, the fact that Zayne is practically coming undone at your words, or the fact that he hasn't denied a thing.

God, his body feels hot. The mere praise has a dusky blush racing down his gorgeously sculpted chest all the way to the tips of his ears, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he looks down between the two of you, to where you’re still teasing the weeping slit of his dick. He moans before he could even stop himself. Fuck. 

Shivering, Zayne reaches out to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he's going to put a stop to your little power trip. But his hand only comes up to guide yours, urging you to pump his cock a bit faster, stopping to put more pressure against the base, and you can't help but smirk knowing he must be truly desperate if he's already rushing you to jerk him off properly. 

"My, my, doctor. I suppose I’m not the only one who’s been holding back.” You click your tongue, a teasing edge to your voice. "Were you really so desperate to feel me around your cock, hmm?"

Hazel eyes narrow at the pure filth behind your words, but you see the furrow between his brows, the way Zayne’s throat bobs as he throws his head back with a choked groan. If he looks so damn pretty now, you wonder what kind of faces he’ll make when he cums. 

“You truly are horrible,” He groans, hesitating, hands clenching into the sheets before they fly up to your waist, gently bucking his hips into your awaiting palm. “Mhm- please.”

You hum, lazily sinking to your stomach so your bare chest presses against his still-clothed thighs. With each stroke you can feel his muscles twitch beneath you, see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his hand guides yours, tightening and loosening, urging you to go faster, harder.

Your mouth waters, and the urge to taste him is far too tempting to resist. 

Plus, you’ve had enough with denying yourself, and more than enough of Zayne denying himself as well. 

So right as Zayne’s head rolls back against the pillows you rock forward, licking a slow stripe up his dick, up between the gap of your fingers where they grip his base. 

Zayne chokes on his breath, hand immediately tangling in your hair, rough enough that it has you wrenched away with a breathless whine. He groans, words shaking out in breathless huffs, “You, hah- this isn’t, fuck—”

"Ah, ah, pretty boy, let me take care of you, yeah?" You fight to come back to him, smiling as Zayne’s grip immediately loosened, and you kiss his tip in thanks.

Rubbing teasing circles into his thighs, your thumbs then move up, tracing his v-line, addicted to the way his muscles tense under your nails and to the red lines that follow. It makes you want to mark him up more. So you do, with your nails again, then with your teeth and tongue. 

“Look at how- shit- how excited you are for me. So pretty.” You lean forward, pressing wet, messy kisses just below his navel and all around his already sticky thighs, heady and coated in pre-cum. 

Another bite, and you squeeze his balls with just enough pressure as you watch his eyes roll back in time. "I'm going to make this so, so good for you, baby.” 

Zayne all but sobs at that.

Every carefully restrained thought breaks completely at the praise, a raspy moan grinding through his teeth before his jaw falls open with every ragged huff of breath. 

“Mhm that’s it, you’re doing so well,” you say, smiling at the way his cock twitches, violently leaking, pre-cum pooling into your palm and dripping down your wrist. “So pretty, so perfect just for me.”

With one last kiss on Zayne’s tip, your hands steadies itself against his abdomen before you kitten-lick around the tip of his cock, and then greedily shove as much of his throbbing erection as you can down your throat.

Zayne tenses, gasping, and the sound sends a thrill down your spine. You press further, tongue flattening along the underside of his shaft, and fuck he’s so thick you nearly choke, forgetting to breathe in through your nose as the lack of oxygen gets to you embarrassingly fast. 

If only you had some more time to properly adjust, you'd force him to the hilt without a doubt. But patience has never been your virtue. 

You’re already edging yourself with every slow grind of your clit against Zayne’s thigh, and you can feel his desperation in every throb along the underside of his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, breaching as deep as you could allow.

Zayne begins to buck forward only to freeze halfway, a low hiss leaving him as his hand twitches against the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fights his own self-restraint as you urge him deeper into your hot mouth. Trying to pull you off him, Zayne’s hand laces through your hair as a warning, large enough to cup the back of your neck entirely, but the action only lets you take him further. 

Then he makes the fatal mistake of looking down at you, locking eyes with your teary gaze as you maintain eye contact before licking up his length, and then swallowing him back down, crying as mascara and drool runs down your chin. His hips stutter upwards, and then he catches the shallow bulge now pressing against the base of your throat. Up and down and back again.

The sight breaks him.

He throws his head back with a whine, and fuck, his sounds thrums against your skull, reverberating through your very being as he snaps, hips bucking wildly into your mouth, his powerful thighs trembling around your head. You’re being used as nothing more than a fucktoy now, hands scrambling for purchase against his abdomen for a semblance of control as you take it.

Fuck, maybe it’s the praise, because you make Zayne want to be greedy with the way you were gagging and choking around him.

The mere feeling of you drooling around his length, the way your moans come out muffled and wet with drool and his slick, like a messy kiss to his cock, has his hips stuttering deeper, arching up into your body until Zayne can practically feel the spark of his orgasm behind his eyes. 

But no, that won't do.

After all, you won’t be satisfied until he’s finally fucking himself inside you tonight. He can’t cum anywhere else. You won’t let him.

And right when you feel his cock go rigid, you tighten your hand around the base, and pull off. 

Heaving, you shakily prop yourself back onto your elbows, Zayne's length glistening with saliva between your bodies, twitching violently and leaking all across his abdomen and your chest from its angry red tip. 

“S’pretty, Zayne.”

Zayne moans, hips chasing after the heat of your mouth, hissing when all he feels is the cold air. He wants to protest, wants to ask for more, but you shush him with a kiss.

Your tongue laps across his skin, tracing the ridges of his abs, lapping the pre-cum and sweat that gathers there. You lick a trail, following the sharp cut of his hips.

"What, is that all you can take?" you ask, a teasing smirk on your face.

Zayne curses, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Depends.” His voice is fucked rough, raw, and you never want him to stop talking. ”Was that the full treatment?” 

You hum, biting the inside of his thigh. He gasps, and it turns into a deep groan when you press an open-mouthed kiss over the forming mark.

“No,” you admit, “You’re not escaping until I get to watch you come undone.”

You smile at the shudder both your words and actions draw, the way his fingers tighten in your hair. “Ah, but not here. In me. I want you to fill me up, baby, make a mess of me. I can take it, I promise. And when you're done, I'm going to ride you until you come again. Sound good, my pretty boy?"

Zayne throws his head back with a moan, eyes squeezed painfully shut as though he can’t decide if this really is real or if a succubus was haunting his dreams to every sinful memory he has of you.

Zayne leans into your touch, following your palm as he nuzzles into you with a huff of hot breath. A little like a kitten in a man's body— a sexy body no doubt— but you wonder, not for the first time, if the reason he always holds back is simply because he was afraid. As you were. Until Zayne came to you, until he showed you what pleasure felt like.

So you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and then kiss him.

He lunges up to meet you halfway, licking into your mouth, fisting into your hair, breathing in every moan and whimper of his name as he hums it right back. Needy, so damn needy for it. 

You smile through the kiss, grinding up and down his muscular thigh alongside the desperate smashing of mouths. Tongue-heavy, teeth scraping, sucking at the corner of your lips. So fucking hungry for you that he’s practically lifting you right off the mattress with just one arm. 

His mouth distractedly chases down your throat leaving opened-mouth kisses before slotting back against your lips, hot and demanding and urgent. 

“Zayne, ah—” you’re cut off with another kiss, “Mhm, please, need you,” another, Zayne looping two arms around your thighs, hiking your knees up to his shoulders, the stretch burning. “Need you in me, now.”

He moans into your open mouth at those words, eager enough that he chases you up, nearly pinning you beneath him until you break the kiss with a gasp, shoving him back down. Zayne whines at the break of your lips, brows furrowed as his back hits the mattress, trapped under you once again, panting.

"Need you, pretty boy." You whisper against his lips, and it sounds just like a promise. "Please, let me take care of you.”

Zayne takes a shaky breath, nodding, drunk on the praise and readjusts himself against the pillows. He watches, eyes half-lidded, as you straddle his waist. Rough hands find your hips and hold them steady as you settle climbing atop him, the head of his cock rubbing between the folds of your soaked cunt. 

It isn’t lost on you how Zayne can barely stop staring at the slick that trails down your thighs, all of it coating his shaft in slick as your pussy hovers over him, connecting the two of you in wet, sticky strands.

"Like what you see, doctor?"

You lick down the milky column of his neck and Zayne groans, leaning back to grant you access. "You and your smart-ass mouth."

“You love it.”

Ya, he does. He could probably cum just from watching you like this.

Leaning forward, you line his cock up with your entrance, smirking at the way his eyes narrow, heart racing beneath your palms as you balance yourself on his pecks, shamelessly groping them.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about this? How many times I've imagined riding your cock, hearing the sweet noises you make as I make a mess of you?"

Zayne opens his mouth, as if to say something, but whatever it is doesn't matter, not as you guide the swollen red tip of his cock through your folds, thick tip pushing and sliding past your entrance, unable to fit even with your combined slick. Teasing, swollen pussy lips drooling right down onto his leaky head when just a simple nudge of Zayne’s squirming hips would end this torment and have you fucked flush against him— raw.

"Please," he groans, his voice raspy and hoarse, eyes fluttering closed, glassy with lust, "I can't- I can't take this. Please,” a low moan of your name has you delirious, and god, you’d give him anything he’d ask for. “I admit it, I need you. So please.”

Were you more than happy to oblige. 

Lifting yourself all the way up on your knees, you steadily apply more pressure to your entrance, working yourself further and further until you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and his cock, each movement now accompanied by an unholy squelch. You slide his cock over your cunt—back, then forward—stimulating your clit with the head each time he fucks it through your folds, desperate as your movements become rougher and more forced.

Zayne’s cock catches against your entrance once again, and a low, breathy moan escapes his lips. He could feel your cunt finally yield to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock, could feel the way your legs trembled, threatening to give way, and he can't help but wonder if this is how you would look, how you would sound and feel, when he fucked you.

As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Zayne’s cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both moan. 

"Mhm, yes," you moan, voice a high-pitched keen. "Just- ah, like that."

Zayne bites his lip, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck, after being edged not once but twice today he already feels deliciously overstimulated and close, too close.

So it certainly doesn't help when you rock yourself up onto your knees, then drop yourself all the way back down his shaft, taking him all the way in until his balls slap against your ass.

You even don't wait for either of you to adjust before doing it again, and the velvety hot squeeze of your cunt has Zayne seeing stars.

“Ah, f-fuck, oh, shit. S’good Zayne,“ you coo, "Feels so good, fuck."

You’re dripping down your thighs, gushing around him like a vice as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt with a creamy white ring already at his base. 

It’s all turning Zayne delirious with the way you continue to feed him compliment after compliment. It’s all so much, too much, and a low moan is forced out of Zayne’s chest as he begins rocking his hips up to meet yours, hardly even letting you pull out before bullying his way back into you. 

Fuck, you can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting your cervix, your walls stretched tight around him, a mixture of his and your slick pooling onto his abdomen as you chase your way up and down his length.

But god, what you feel is nothing compared to how absolutely wrecked Zayne looks.

His eyes are screwed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly, the flush from his ears having spread to his gorgeously marked-up chest, his neck, the angry red tip of his cock. His brows are drawn together, jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he holds himself back, every part of him curling up to meet yours and press you down, closer. 

But then he turns away, eyes screwed shut as you feel his tip jerk against your cervix once more. 

No. No, no, no that won’t do.

Zayne has watched you come undone countless times. He’s been a worshiper and witness to pleasures you didn’t think you could feel, and this time, you want him to be the subject of all your adoration. To finally give him back all the love he’s taught you to feel and more. 

So you lean down, cupping Zayne’s cheek with one hand as you continue to ride him. “Look at me, baby. Y-you're so, fuck, so big, Zayne, fuck—” You gasp a sharp breath as he twitches violently inside you at the praise, slurring your words. “Mhm, love your cock so much."

But you doubted he could hear you— fuck, you wouldn’t even be able to tell if Zayne was breathing at this point if it wasn’t for the throbbing of his cock against your walls in time to his erratic heartbeat— because his eyes rolled back into his skull, jaw slack as a silent moan rips from his chest, shuddering down his spine right before his hips snap up into yours, throwing you off balance, pinpointing your g-spot with cruel accuracy as you scream.

Your sounds and babble of praises have him dizzy, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he struggles to focus on your face. It almost looks like he’s about to cry, dark lashes wet with unshed tears. You’d tease him for it, had you the capacity to think at all. But no, each thrust continues to bully into that sweet, spongy spot inside you as you moan, and Zayne’s mouth falls open with a cry of his own.

You chase into it with a kiss, clashing your teeth as you feel his tongue lap against yours, sucking hard. You feel the wrecked, blissed-out smile on your face, breaking away from him just long enough for Zayne to see how ruined and turned on he’s making you.

"Y-you're close, aren't you, my sweet boy?" You ask, the words coming out strained as Zayne fucks up into you. Pumping upwards, it’s like he wasn’t even trying every time his weeping head rams your sensitive spots. Just stuffing you full of his cock he denied you for so long, furious enough to mold you to his very shape. "C'mon, cum for me, Zayne. In me, please–ah."

You pull away even as his lips chase yours, arching your back so that your full weight grinds back on his hips. Zayne all but whimpers at the change in angle, his hands gripping the bed sheets as he tries not to starve off his orgasm. 

"Please, please," he groans, his jaw clenching.

"Look at me, Zayne."

He does, and his pupils are so blown, his eyes nearly black.

"Cum for me, baby," you beg again, grinding down against him as his hand comes up to grope your chest the same moment your palm leaves to cup his balls, and that's all it takes.

Zayne comes, a cry ripped from his throat, his cock throbbing inside of you. You can feel the sheer warmth filling you, his seed spilling out and leaking onto the sheets, and god, there’s so much of it that cum squirts out from between the two of you, splattering up his abs and your thighs. 

He’s trembling, head falling back as his hips jolt and stutter, still fucking up into you as though it can’t bear to part. You’re probably not helping with the way you still rocking on his length, your cunt milking his orgasm, and he can't take it, it's too much, too fucking good, he can't stop, never wants to.

But, fuck, one look at his face, and you already want him to cum again.

Zayne looks like sin, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, his body writhing and straining as he gasps for breath, his skin shining in the afterglow of his release. The muscles of his neck are taut, veins pulsing and straining, his lips bitten red. He is fucking gorgeous, and the thought that he has done this for you, to you, has another wave of arousal shooting up your spine. 

“You…” Zayne’s brows pinch together, but his voice is low, dangerous. Unyielding. “You didn’t cum.”

“I already did, besides I-I ah, Zayne—!”

You’re cut off by your own pussy, lewd squelching accompanying every brutal thrust Zayne overstimulates the both of you with, bullying his own cum out of you with each rhythmless thrust back in. He plants his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips up as you claw at his shoulders, chest, the slap of skin on skin ringing in your ears.

“No, that isn’t-” Zayne’s words slur, feverish and mindless as his gaze zero’s in to where the two of you meet, the sound of every wet, messy thrust and the slight bulge he now sees in time to his thrusts. “Not enough. With me. Please, hah, cum with me, love.”

Transfixed, one hand drifts to the bulge at your navel, and before he can stop himself, he grinds the heel of his palm against it. Immediately, overbearing pressure shoots up your spine, a broken scream leaving you as you tremble above him, arching violently forward. 

You try and speak, protests leaving as nothing more than garbled whimpers as you claw at Zayne’s wrist, trying and failing to pry his punishing grip off you. 

He doesn’t relent.

How could he, when you’ve finally given him yourself? When this was everything he’s denied himself and more? 

Fuck control, fuck discipline, fuck holding himself back. Zayne wants you. 

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, your combined cum gushes out of your overfilled pussy and spreads in a lewd little pool beneath you. It’s all you can do to take it, Zayne overstimulating the both of you to insanity, but his hips keep the same punishing rhythm. Two slow, deep thrusts before something snaps and he hammers into you twice. Thrice. Then begins all over. 

It’s effortless, the way he bounces your body up and down with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, massaging the outline of his dick showing through with every grind forward, rolling your clit between his forefinger and thumb. 

Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is Zayne, Zayne, Zayne. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name out loud too. And you never felt more gloriously out of control than when he abruptly jerks his thigh upwards– driving you right along with it– hitting your cervix all at once.

There’s no rhythm. Not anymore. You’re hardly lucid, dropping your full weight down just to meet Zayne’s cock as he pulls you down prone atop of him to catch your mouth in an open kiss as he hits your g-spot again. And again. And again and again and—

“Love,” he all but moans it into your lips, low and broken and oh so addicting. “My love, please.” God, he’s still so painfully hard but the feeling of you fluttering around him, getting tighter each time he calls you love, must be a sort of heaven. “Please– hah, fuck– cum. Cum all over my cock.”

You whine, surging forward to kiss him again, and he feels it, couldn’t do or think of anything but it as you cum around his cock for the first time. 

Zayne’s eyes open even as you continue to suck and lick into his mouth, brows furrowed and vision blurring, lost in every hot pulse of your walls as they coaxed him further and further in, your release squirting against him as you struggle to drag your hips off him again, pussy sucking his cock in deeper, unwilling to let him go. 

Shaking, his hands find their way back to your hips, settling over the light bruises as he guides you up and down again, startling you as you moan into his lips. 

“Zayne,” you whine his name between kisses, strings of spit snapping between you, Zayne chasing hazily after your mouth before you cup his face in your hands. 

God, the sound of his name on your lips is enough to have him keening, pressing his forehead to yours as his entire body trembles. 

You’re coming again before you even realize it, vision spinning in and out as Zayne continues to fuck you through it. Zayne makes a noise, something between a moan and a whimper, his hips slowing despite himself. 

You're gorgeous, the sight of you atop him, still slurring out compliments, and it's too much, fuck, too fucking much, too fucking perfect, his perfect woman. 

With a final snap of his hips, Zayne comes alongside you. 

His orgasm has him gasping and his entire body bows forward, arms wrapping around your middle as he buries his face in your shoulder, kissing into the tender flesh as he just keeps cumming. 

He can't find the need to hold back this time. Not when the pleasure is so intense that his vision is turning white, not when your cunt is hot and pulsing and clenching around him, not when the praise and encouragement keep pouring out of your lips, whispering into the crook of his neck, "good job, Zayne, such a good boy for me, you did so well, my sweet boy, my love, hah, I love you."

When you finally come down from your high your body is sore and aching, the feeling of his hot cum deep inside making you whine, the sensation so much better than his fingers or toys, so much more warm and full.

Zayne’s arms are wrapped protectively across you, hugging you down atop of him even as his cock remains motionless within you, not an inch of skin untouched as his hands rub careful circles down your spine and thighs. 

You nuzzle closer, whispering more nonsensical praises into Zayne’s hair, raising a shaking arm to comb through it as he still keeps his face tucks into your shoulder, hidden and shaking softly still. 

A shift, and you feel his hot breath on your neck, a sudden drop of wetness against your skin, and you realize with a start that Zayne is crying.

He’s crying. Soft, unrestrained sobs muffle into your shoulder as he tucks you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck between breaths. You let him. You curl up as close as you can get onto his lap and then closer still, one hand raking through his hair in gentle reverence as you let him cry.

It is silent, save for the sound of his sobs and his labored breaths.

"I love you, Zayne," you say, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You really are perfect, thank you, thank you."

You kiss his forehead, then down his cheek and jaw until he finally relaxes under you. Tracing lazy patterns up and down his chest, you coax him down until he finally raises his eyes to meet yours with a flutter of tear-stained kisses to your palm. 

The first thing you notice is the way his cheeks are flushed, his eyes wavering and hazy. The second is the way his lips are swollen, the marks on his neck and chest blooming darker with each passing minute. The third is how the sweat on his skin is beginning to dry, making his hair stick up in all sorts of directions.

The fourth is the look on his face.

The look on his face is soft, tender, and unsure. Nothing like the infallible surgeon the whole city reveres, or the smart-mouthed mentor you’ve grown to admire and respect. Just Zayne. 

You brush the damp locks away from his eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, and he melts, his body falling forward onto you as he curls you into his side, tucking you down onto the bed alongside him.

“Stay with me?” He asks, his voice low, as though afraid to ask. Afraid to know.

Always. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

[jinxvex]

could u perhaps do casual dominance hcs w sevika..? :3

♱ casual dominance w/ gf!sevika headcanons!! ♱

i've been mf WAITING for this one!! it's time to get down to the biz folks... 🙈😏🤫

cw: sfw & kinda nsfw towards the end!, possessiveness, manhandling, dumbification??, curse words, touching, suggestive themes!

♱ sevika is, without a doubt, the dominant one in the relationship. that's not to say a woman can't be versatile! it's just what she prefers. the dynamic between you two is not only what makes things work well in your relationship, it makes you perfect for each other.

♱ she doesn't mind a few swear words from you here and there, but she is on it if you're beginning to pick up the habit of using them. she doesn't like her sweet girl using such filthy language! unless she's fucking it out of you. a simple "fuck! god damn it!" when you drop something has her going, "hey, watch your mouth." or "language, baby. where's my sweet girl at?"

♱ i mentioned this in another post, but she's the driver! that hand would be on your thigh, squeezing as the other rests on the steering wheel—just to let you know she's still thinking of you as you two quietly listen to music. you enjoy each other's company that way.

♱ sevika does not tolerate attitude from you. whew, girl! you'd be in for a treat if you rolled your eyes at her or gave her lip because you happened to be in one of your moods. she isn't afraid to scold you. she absolutely grabs your chin to force you to look her in the eye, "who do you think you're talking to, huh?" + "nuh-uh, baby. no."

♱ she literally picks you up by your waist to move you wherever she wants you to go (AHHH). + (think when loris was bringing vi back to her apartment when she was drunk and emo but in a hot wlw way).

♱ sevika LOVES to rub the front of your thighs when you sit on her lap, whether that be when she's gambling or at home. she doesn't even let you try and get up, you're stuck there for hours!

♱ sevika enjoys turning your brain to mush; she loves watching your eyes gloss over as she talks down to you and tells you what to do. she knows you'd do anything to be her good girl.

"hey, go hand me my cards, baby." she demands gently as you two get up from the couch, ready to venture to the last drop. she pats your ass softly before you nod and briskly rush over to where her cards rest on the kitchen table. when you return, you drop the cards into her large mech hand. your eyes peer deep into hers for confirmation that you did good. she leans in for a kiss, a kiss that deepens and lasts. as you kiss passionately, her human hand snakes up to your neck and presses down firmly before pulling away, "that's a good girl." + "mm thank you, baby. what would i do without my woman?" she smirks against your open mouth.

♱ if anyone is staring at you in public/trying to flirt with you, TRUST she's pulling you in for the sexiest, NASTIEST kiss and sticking her tongue down your throat (IN FRONT OF THEM). she makes out with you as she glares into their eyes from across the room! her eyes would be screaming, "she's mine, and if you ever look at her again, you're dead."

(i would LIKE to say she orders for both of you at a restaurant, but you'd definitely be the one going all, "yes! thank you! and she'll have the chicken salad with toasted croutons!" as she sticks her face into the menu LMAOFOOO.)

♱ for some reason, sevika does not let you pay. ever! she loves being able to take care of you—to provide for you.

"i got it this time, gorgeous." you huff and turn towards her, "you pay every time, vika!" you exclaim as she pulls you in closer to whisper into your ear, "let me take care of you, hmm?" + "just wanna give my girl the world. can i do that for you?"

♱ oh! and if you try to run when she's fucking you from behind, she IS placing her hand at the small of your back to keep you still so you can take everything she gives you! she goes, “mhm, take it. don’t run.” + “you need this, slut.” that's all!

needless to say, she loves you real bad!! 🫣

[moonlightpetalz6]

Kinktober Day 1 (Praise Kink)

Character: Sebastian (Stardew Valley)

Reader: Fem Reader!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Praise kink, smut, pet names, unprotected sex, harsh language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cigarettes,

Wc: 4,795

A/n: AAAAAH Finally I can start posting these! anyways I really hope you enjoy this story! I tried my best to label all the warnings, so I apologize if I missed any! Anyways! I fucking love Sebastian in Stardew he was the first one I ever married in game!

______________________________________________________________

"If you keep glaring like that, you'll get wrinkles." You scoffed, bringing your drink to your lips as you glanced at your friend Leah, who happily munched on a salad, giving you a playful grin as she pointed her fork in the direction your eyes had been staring daggers at just seconds ago. At the other end of the Stardrop Saloon stood your recent ex-boyfriend Sam and his usual gang, except this time there was someone new with them. Your eyes took in the sight of your ex's arm tightly wrapped around Penny's shoulders as he went and kissed the top of her head, causing your heart to ache as you slightly cringe at the sight. "He's such a dick, right?" Leah questioned, tilting her head towards Gus, who silently cleaned one of his glasses. Gus opened his eyes, glancing from the two girls over to the group of young adults whose laughs echoed throughout his salon.

 

"Would you like another drink, Y/n? on the house?" He questioned, getting ready to give the farmer another cup. You took one last look at the new couple before letting out a deep sigh while pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling a slight headache approaching. "No, I think I should start heading back home. I have to wake up early to help Pierre with some new sales ideas he has." The two let out small sympathetic 'ahs' at your words while giving nods of understanding. You carefully rummage through your jeans, pulling out what you owe and slapping it on the counter as you wave goodbye to everyone who acknowledged your exit. You carefully swing the door open, closing your eyes as the night breeze hits your slightly flushed cheeks, letting out a contempt sigh as you lean against the Saloon, staring up into the night sky. 

'Come on Y/n it's been like two months now, get over it.' You thought, annoyed with your feelings. 'Maybe I should try dating again? I am pretty busy, though, with Winter coming in just a few months.' Letting out another deep sigh, you kick yourself off the wall, shoving your hands in your jeans pockets as you turn to return to the farm. Before you could even take the first step back, the doors to the Saloon opened as a familiar figure stepped out in front of you, causing you to stop all movement. "Oh, you're still here, Y/n?" Sebastian questioned, a cigarette between his lips as he looked down at you, slightly surprised to see your form next to him. You took a small step back as your body shifted, showing discomfort at the man's sudden appearance. Sebastian didn't say anything as he eyed you silently while lighting his cigarette. 

"Uh…hey, yeah, I was just about to head back." You mumbled, unable to make eye contact with your ex's best friend. Sebastian hummed his eyes, boring holes into your unaware figure as he let out a puff of smoke while carefully leaning against the Saloon. "Is that right? You want to keep me company for a bit?" His words catch you by surprise as you look up at his mouth, slightly open in awe. Sebastian gives you a barely noticeable smirk, amused with your reaction, as he raises a brow, tilting his head down to get a better look at you. "What? Just cause you and Sam are no longer together doesn't mean I have to stop talking to you, does it?" He scoffed, eyes narrowing as he clicked his tongue. You grew nervous with that as you quickly waved your hands out while stuttering over your words as you tried to devise excuses. 

"T-that's not! I- well, it's just you guys are so close and…um…I… I'm sorry." You admit defeat as you bend over from guilt. Sebastian just let out a small chuckle while ruffling your head as he let out another cloud of smoke. "Good to see you haven't changed since we last talked." He mumbled while motioning for you to join him against the wall. After a moment of hesitation, you decide to entertain your old friend, having not talked to anyone besides Leah since the breakup. "You're right…I haven't changed at all." You admitted while looking down at the ground, tapping your feet together. Sebastian's eyes narrow as he takes in your pitiful form, his chest tightening with disgust as he recalls how you used to smile whenever he saw you with Sam. An awkward silence falls between you, neither knowing what to say to the other after having not spoken in two months. 

"Did you see Sam and Penny?" Finally, Sebastian addresses the two people filling your vision the entire night. He doesn't take your eyes off your form, watching you stiffen at the mention of his best friend and new girlfriend. He hesitates momentarily, debating whether he should hit you with the harsh reality of their situation or leave you to your deluded thoughts. "... They're dating now." He finally starts watching as your body trembles, causing his jaw to clench as he feels a bit of rage cloud his vision, not liking the effect his best friend still had on you. Sebastian bites his lip before going to continue with his words. "They've been dating since-!" His words cut off, eyes widening in shock as he feels your petite, but rough hands press against his mouth as you stand on your tiptoes, your body trembling. 

"Please… don't continue, I u-understand." Your voice sounded so pathetic and broken to the programmer as he listened to the minor hiccups that left your lips. "Hey, are you crying?" He mumbles carefully, going and caressing your cheek, feeling like his heart was stabbed with a pickaxe when he handles your damp skin under his fingers. Sebastian had only ever seen you cry once during the after-party of one of their band's gigs. Everyone was out cold from partying too hard, but Sebastian had woken up to use the bathroom, his head swirling from the alcohol as he staggered towards the bathroom. When he reaches out to grab the doorknob, he is shocked to see it swing open, his sleepy and intoxicated eyes locking with your surprised, tear-filled ones. "...Sam broke up with me." After staring at each other for an eternity, you whispered to Sebastian. 

Scowling at the memory, Sebastian cups both sides of your face, carefully rubbing his thumbs in circles across the bags under your eyes, most likely due to the lack of sleep you have suffered since the breakup. "Hey…hey shhh. Don't cry, Y/n, oh come on, princess, look at me." He cooed, his face inches from yours as he made eye contact with you. "Oh Y/n, you poor thing…geez, why didn't you come to me if you were suffering so much?" You couldn't say anything to the man before you as you cried, feeling your throat ache with each pathetic sob. You look up at Sebastian, his eyes no longer holding that annoyed and lazy look this time; they're much softer and filled with love and compassion as he gives you a small smile. "I-I'm sorry, Sebastian, I don't mean to," He cuts you off, pulling you into a tight embrace as he carefully rubs circles along your back. 

"Shhh, don't apologize, Y/n." He whispered, nuzzling his chin against the top of your head as he took in your scent, his heart racing as he gave your body a small squeeze of reassurance. "Just cry it out for me, okay?" He asked, a small smile ghosting his lips as he felt your body starting to relax. "There we go, that's a good girl." As the words left his lips, you heard the door to the Saloon open, causing whoever just left to hear everything. You go to pull away from Sebastian's comforting embrace, not wanting to have people get the wrong idea. However, his grip suddenly tightens as he rests a hand on your head, pressing your face further into his chest. "Y/n? Sebastian?" Your eyes widened at the familiar voice, your body stiffening as your heartbeat against your ribs. Sebastian rubs circles on your lower back once again as he lets out a lazy hum while looking over at his best friend and Penny standing just inches away from the two of you. 

"Oh hey…you two going home for the night?" He asked with a bored tone, utterly different from the gentle, caring one he had with you moments ago. Your mind starts to wander off as you think back to his words from earlier, finally processing. 'Princess? Good girl?' You thought your cheeks were quickly heating up as steam practically danced from your head, heart pounding as embarrassment overcame you. 'W-what the hell was with that?! A-and this current situation…oh no, Sam's going to get the wrong idea-!' Your rapid thoughts are put to a dead halt as you feel Sebastian's hand suddenly slide down to your ass, his palm gently rubbing circles along the squishy flesh before giving it a slight squeeze causing you to jump as you hid deeper into his chest. "Y/n? Are you okay?" You heard Sam question with that sickening sweet tone he would use when you used to date, indicating he was worried for you. 

"She's fine, just had a bit too much to drink tonight, right, Y/n?" You felt Sebastian dip his head close to your ear, his warm breath hitting your already flushed skin as he quietly whispered his following words. "Right, sweet girl? Be a good girl for me, and nod your head so he can beat it." He growled the last part as his grip on your ass tightened, causing a small whimper to leave your lips while the man chuckled. You do as told while slightly peaking past Sebastian's arms, your eyes still teary from your minor breakdown moments ago. "Y-yeah, Sebastian's right." This earned you a small reward as you felt his thumb carefully rub circles along your hip. You said nothing after that, internally praying for the two to leave so you could hurry up and return to the farm. Your thoughts soon drifted as you inhaled the smell of Sebastian's hoodie; he smelled of cigarettes and motor oil, hinting that he must have been working on his bike at some point today. You felt your mind get fuzzy as you nuzzled closer to him, causing the man to stiffen as his arms squeezed around you, resting his chin on your head again. 

Sam stood there momentarily before nodding, a nervous smile crossed his face. "Ah, I see! I was just about to walk Penny home. Do you want me to take Y/n back to the farm for you?" Sam asked, his eyes only leaving your form to glance at his best friend for a second. "Nah, I'm going to take her back home. You worry about getting your girl home." Sebastian laughed, though you felt his annoyance as he tapped a finger against your skin. Sam hesitated momentarily before complying when he felt Penny tug on his sleeve. With a slight frown, Sam nods his head while giving you both one last look. "Right…get home safe then." The two walked off, leaving you and Sebastian alone outside the Saloon. You listened as he let out a deep sigh, his entire body seeming to relax as he carefully rubbed his hand up and down your back while letting out a small laugh. "Finally, I thought he'd never leave." he joked, arms still holding you close. You felt yourself growing hot as you carefully tried to pull away. 

"U-um, Sebastian, I should get home now." You whispered, avoiding looking up at him. Sebastian hummed, tilting his head to look down at you, his eyes narrowing as a lazy smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh, that's right, I have to get my good girl home~" He cooed, causing your eyes to widen as you looked up at him in shock, your mouth open to shout who knows what at him. Still, he was ready for this as he went and pressed his lips to yours, one hand carefully capturing your chin between his thumb and index finger as he tilted your head up to deepen the kiss. At first, your body is stiff from shock, your mind trying to process how all this was happening as your wide eyes stared straight into Sebastian's narrowed eyes. He smirked against the kiss as he pressed your body closer, his free hand trailing up and down your side, causing your body to relax as you slowly gave in to the feeling. 

The two of you slowly pull away from the kiss, a small string of saliva still attaching your lips as he presses his forehead against yours, his hand carefully caressing your cheek. "Are you lonely, baby?" He whispers, brushing his lips against yours, his eyes filled with desire as he slides his thumb down your lower lip, watching the plump skin tug with his digit, causing him to lick his lips. "Do you want me to take care of you, sweet girl? I can fix that lonely feeling, Y/n." His words cause you to shiver as a small whimper leaves your lips, tears filling your eyes as you feel your chest swell with joy at his praise, your ears wanting to hear more of it. "Come on baby…tell me what you want like a good girl." He kisses along your jaw as his hands ravish over your squirming body, eagerly awaiting your response. You bite your lip as you try to think of the consequences if you take the man in front of you home. You look up at him with a slight pout on your lips as he gives you a lazy smirk; however, his eyes hold nothing, but admiration mixed with lust as he stops, his hands gripping your hips with one last squeeze. "What's wrong, princess?" He whispered, feeling your hands grip at his hoodie. 

"Sebastian I…I want you to take me home." 

_______

As soon as the door to your house shut, Sebastian was all over you. His hands roamed around your body as he slid them up your shirt, kneading at your encaged breasts as he breathed a deep sigh into your ear. "S-sebastian, wait! We just walked in!" You cried, trying to push him away but failing as he went and pressed your front against the wooden floor, grinding against your ass as he leaned over you, licking the shell of your ear. "I'm sorry, princess, but I can't wait anymore. You're just too fucking cute." He growled, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he unclipped your bra, watching your breasts bounce with each grind of his hips. "So, fucking perfect princess." He whispers, going to pinch at your hardened nipples, earning a slight squeal out of you as your hips move back against his, causing him to bite his lip at the sudden friction. 

"Fuck do you like that Y/n? Does my sweet baby girl have sensitive nipples? Do you like me playing with them between my fingers like this?" He laughs as he gives a rough pinch to them, causing your back to arch as a low moan escapes your lips. "Y/n, do you want to know a secret?" He whispers while flipping you onto your back, making sure to grab each of your legs as he wraps them around his waist, pressing the bulge in his pants against your clothed pussy, a slight blush on his cheeks as he looks down at you with a lustful gaze. "I've always wanted you. From the moment you moved here, I wanted to make you such a good girl who I could spoil." He admitted while sinking to leave kisses from your neck towards your chest as he carefully started sucking on one breast, an intense shiver running through his body as he listened to your moans, feeling you squirm underneath him. 

"Sam didn't deserve to have you princess." He moans his teeth, lightly biting the sensitive bud, causing you to let out a small cry, bucking your hips up to meet his own, causing him to chuckle as he pulls away from your breast with a small pop before sitting up straight. "Such a good girl~" He purrs while slowly pulling down your jeans, his lips trailing kisses down your thigh to your ankle as he lets out a small gasp, his eyes locking with the wet spot soaking through your panties, just begging for him to lick it all up. "Such a good girl, Y/n…" He whispers while sinking his head between your thighs, pressing a small kiss against the slick-coated fabric, causing your pussy to twitch as you watch him with hooded eyes, small pants of anticipation leaving your lips. "How long has it been, princess?" He whispers before dragging his tongue up and down the fabric slowly and tormentingly. "When was the last time someone made this pretty pussy of yours feel so good?" he growled while tearing the material out of the way, his tongue invading every inch of your dripping hole. 

Your eyes shoot open as you slap a hand over your mouth, a deep groan leaving your lips at the sudden pleasure jolting throughout your body as your muscles tense up. "F-fuuuuuuck." You cry, a hand reaching out to grab at his dark locks. He grabs your wrist, stopping your movement with a slight chuckle as he pulls away from your pussy. Your juices make his mouth messy as he slowly licks his lips, shaking his head. "Uh uh~ answer my question, princess…when was the last time a guy was inside you?" He leans over your body, lips inches from yours, slowly slips a finger past your folds, rubbing teasing circles around your clenching hole. You whine from the act while wiggling your hips, wanting to feel the digit deep inside you. "Come on, baby~ Just answer my question, and I'll reward you like the good girl you are." He teased, eyes clouded with lust as he tugged at his pants with his free hand, letting out a small groan from being so pent up. 

You look at him with a slight pout as he bites his lip, almost reaching his breaking point from how adorable you looked underneath him. "S-since Sam and I dated…I haven't fucked anyone else, so please…mmh…please make me feel good, Sebby~" You made sure to drag out the little nickname hoping it would give you some reaction, and boy, were you right. Sebastian clenched his teeth together, eyes narrowing as they clouded with pure desire as he licked his lips. "Since Sam, huh?" He asks a hum towards the end. Your eyes widen as your mouth forms an o when you feel his rough and lengthy finger sink deep inside you, causing your back to arch as you grip his biceps, watching his eyes travel down to his hand. "Then my poor baby hasn't been satisfied in so long…" he whispers before sliding another finger inside your needy hole, watching as his fingers go in and out each time, coated in a new layer of your beautiful juices.   

"You're doing such a good job baby, oh such a good fucking job." he moans, watching as your body squirmed underneath him while feeling you needily clenching around his fingers, causing his cock to twitch in his pants as he growls, biting into the crook of your neck. "Princess, look at me, sweetheart." He breathes while carefully adjusting your gaze onto him. "Did you know he used to brag about you all the time?" He confessed, eyes locking with your clouded ones as he slowly freed himself from his pants, a slight hiss leaving his lips as his cock sprang against his chest. "He used to tell me all the time how sexy you were…" You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as you hear the man fingering you talk about how your ex used to praise you to others, finding yourself disgusting for getting aroused.

 

"He was right but failed to mention how cute you are. Such a cute and obedient pussy~" He sang, a cocky smile on his face as he watched your body shiver underneath him, watching your eyes tear up as your pussy clenched around his fingers, indicating that you had found your release. Sebastian whispers sweetly into your ear as he slows down his fingers, still pumping them through your orgasm. "That's it, princess…such a good girl for me~" he praised while placing kisses all over your cheek as you frowned, trying to get the words to leave your mouth between heavy breaths. "I-i'm not… I'm disgusting." You whimpered, allowing your inner thoughts to come out. Sebastian frowned at this as he went and pulled your legs over his shoulders, causing you to squeak as he removed your limp body closer to him. "W-what are you doing?" You cried, still trying to come down from your orgasm as you pushed at his abdomen. 

Sebastian says nothing as he slowly slides his tip along your wet folds, watching the juices mix with his precum. "He's tried to ruin you…" he mumbles while positioning himself against your throbbing hole, his eyes slowly locking with yours as he grits his teeth. "Be a good girl for me, okay princess? You'll be my pretty little slut and take it all, right?" He smiles at his words while capturing your lips in a deep passionate kiss before sliding his cock into your tight hole, causing you to whimper and whine at the sudden intrusion, a few tears escaping from your eyes. Sebastian groans, his rough hands sliding up and down your hips reassuringly before pulling away his brows knit together as he kisses the corner of your lips. "So good, Y/n…such a good girl for me, princess." He mumbled, slowly moving his hips as he watched each pleasurable expression cross your face at the feeling of him inside you. 

"S-sebbyyyy," You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck while needily placing sloppy kisses along his neck, causing him to laugh in adoration, loving how cute you were being for him. "What is it, princess? What does my sweet girl want me to do?" He happily lends you his ear, so happy to hear you moaning out his name like you did so many times in his fantasies when he sat at home jerking himself off in the basement. You look up at him, lips swollen from him kissing you so aggressively, cheeks flushed as a bit of drool slipped from the corner of your mouth. "Please move! I wanna feel good!" You whined desperately, causing a soft and caring smile to appear on his face. "As you wish, princess." He whispered before pulling away from you, legs still tossed over his shoulders as his grip on your hips tightened. 

You gasped and moaned as his thrusts became more aggressive, the feeling of his cock rubbing against your squishy walls filling your mind as you tossed your head back, your loud and pitiful moans echoing throughout the quiet and dark house. Sebastian looks down at you, a slight blush on his cheeks, his breathing heavy as he watches your fucked out expression, his cock twitching inside you as he brings one of his hands to your chest, giving a squeeze as he desperately tries to thrust as deep as he could inside you. "Smile for me, baby~ ah, come on smile! Fuck show me that pretty smile, baby~" He whined, watching as you brought your head to face him, your expression causing him to swallow back a loud moan as he felt himself about to cum at just the sight. You looked up at him; the moonlight barely lit the area, showing your eyes shining from the tears of pleasure that had dampened your soft skin. Your cheeks were so flushed as drool slid down your chin when your lips tugged up into a fucked-out smile as you reached your arms up to cup his face. 

Sebastian looked down at you with wide eyes, his mouth open in awe as he felt his chest swell with nothing but love for the farm girl. "Sebby~ Am I a good girl? I did as told please tell me I'm a good girl!" You whined, feeling his cock hit that one spot you needed as you reached your second orgasm causing your tongue to stick out at him, his eyes turning feral. "Fuck princess…yeah, you're such a good fucking girl, alright baby." He suddenly pulls out, causing you to let out a needy whine, having not had enough of his cock inside you just yet. "Whose dick do you like more princess? Mine or Sam's?" He suddenly questions before slamming his entire length back inside your sensitive pussy, ignoring that you had just released for the second time that night. 

"It's mine right princess?" He growls, watching your tits bounce up and down at his faster pace. You can't say anything too fucked out by the intense pleasure you were receiving. Sebastian grunts and groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he feels his cock wanting to paint your walls so pretty with his cum. "Come on baby say my dick is better. Come on, say it! Say it, oh god, say it with those pretty lips of yours, Y/n~" He whines, sticking his tongue out as he captures your lips in another sloppy kiss, listening to your lewd juices echoing throughout the house, his mind going crazy. He pulls away from the kiss, watching the strings of saliva fall back onto you, his heartbeat pumping through his ears as he pried your mouth open with two fingers. 

 "Say it for me, princess, and I'll give you such a good reward~ Just say it, baby. Come on, be my good, naughty girl~" He whined, desperate for you to say the words that would show him you no longer belonged to his best friend and that you were now finally his perfect girl who would do anything to be praised by him. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you start feeling the knot in your stomach for the third time that night. The words barely leave your lips above a whisper, but he can still hear it. "Y-Your dick, Sebbyyyy! Mm, I like your dick more, Sebastian!" A deep growl leaves his throat as he presses his hips right against yours feeling himself ejaculating into your messy pussy, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels your walls clenching around him. You lay there too fucked out of your mind as you felt his cum filling your insides, a happy smile crossing your face as you watched Sebastian unconsciously try to push any cum that leaked out back inside when he pulled out. 

"That's my good girl~ so perfect for me~" He muttered while picking you up bridal style, leaving kisses along your face as he took you to your bed, carefully laying you down as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face. You hummed, tired eyes looking up at him as you leaned into his touch. "I'll grab you some water," he mumbled, giving you another kiss before heading towards the kitchen. As he patiently waited for the glass to fill, he noticed his phone going off, causing him to flip it open and look at the name of the person trying to call him. 

Sam

"Yeah?" Sebastian muttered, holding the phone up to his ear as he stopped the running water, making sure to have a tight grip on the cup, not wanting to break it. "Hey, I was calling to see if you made it home yet! I know you said you were taking Y/n home earlier. Did she get back safe?" Sam's voice laughed from the other end, instantly asking questions. Sebastian enters the room, stopping when he sees your sleeping face pressed against the pillow. He smiles quietly, walking over to you and placing the cup on your nightstand. "Yeah, we returned to her place a while ago." He admitted waiting to see if his best friend caught the fact he said 'we' instead of just you. Sam hesitates for a second, causing a slight smirk on Sebastian's lips as he awaits the blond's following words. 

"Are you still at her place then?' 

Sebastian just hummed as he sat on the edge of your bed, carefully playing with a strand of your hair as he looked down at you, eyes filled with love. 

"Of course, I'd still be at her house. After all, she's my girl now~."

[gothicgaycowboy]

𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.1k

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: you make Aemond’s longtime librarian fantasy come to life.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 18+ no minors, fem dom, sub aemond, a cock ring, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, role play (kinda), unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n, edging (m receiving), both reader and aemond are little losers, established relationship, pet names, embarrassing family dinner conversations, a cameo from aemond’s lesbian moms and aegon.

𝙖/𝙣: this was originally going to be the beginning of my kinktober but I didn’t even get a chance to write out any of my other ideas in time. also big thank you to this anon who inspired this fic. hope you enjoy 💋

Up until now you thought you and your boyfriend had no secrets between you, but as it turns out you were wrong.

It started a week ago, you and Aemond drove up the countryside for a weekend to visit his family for Alicent’s birthday. Everyone tried their best to make it up there for big celebrations.

After three years together you feel like a member of the family yourself, Alicent and Rhaenyra even refer to you as their second daughter. You feel more at home with them than you do with your own family — and more importantly you felt like they couldn’t shock you anymore. That lasted until dinner.

Aegon and Aemond had gotten into a tiff about something juvenile that you can’t even remember anymore. Words tossed back and forth at one another from across the table like a tennis match. Rhaenyra was about to interject when Aegon blurted out: “Did you ever tell your sweetheart about what you did with my rag mag?”

Now that caught your attention.

Aemond’s face became beet red. His eyes practically bulged out of his skull in fear. Aegon smiled cockily at his brother’s expression, poking a forkful of their mothers dinner into his mouth.

Alicent and Rhaenyra tried to object to this conversation as soon as the word ‘rag mag’ was tossed out, but were cut short by your boyfriend.

“You wouldn’t.” It was clear Aemond was attempting to sound intimidating when it was obvious to everyone else he was fearing for his life.

“Oh, but I really would.” You vaguely remember overhearing Rhaenyra warn Alicent to cover her ears. Aegon turned his full attention to you, his eyes locked with yours. “When your precious boyfriend was still shorter than me he snuck into my room, snooped through my collection, and ripped out the naughty librarian spread all for himself.”

For the first time since you had met him Aemond became shy. You didn’t quite understand why exactly. Your boyfriend was no saint when it came to sex. He was the one who suggested most of your perverted ventures thus far, so why had he never told you this story himself?

After the table was cleared and conversation changed Aemond popped outside to take a quick smoke break — the perfect opportunity for you to interrogate Aegon a little more. You slid beside him as he washed that night's dishes like the good little son he can be occasionally.

“What was all that about?”

He glanced up at you briefly from the task in front of him. “What was all what about?”

“You know…” you suddenly realised how humiliating it was to talk about sex related topics with your boyfriend's brother. “The magazine drama?”

A knowing smirk crossed the​ Targaryen’s lips. “Ah, you want to know why Aemond threw such a fit about his little secret being outed.” He placed a white salad bowl onto the drying rack before facing you. “Well there are a few theories I have about it — first and most simple of all: maybe he was just embarrassed to have his middle school perversions exposed to our parents. I’m not too convinced by that one though given the simple fact that you two have been fucking at practically every family event you have been invited to thus far.”

It was then your turn for your cheeks to heat up with embarrassment, the memory of being caught half naked by Rhaenyra in the shoe closet still haunts you.

“So that leads me to my second theory: he’s ashamed of you knowing about his librarian fetish.”

Your brows pinched together quizzically. “But that doesn’t make any sense, we’ve done way crazier things together than a little kinky roleplay.”

Aegon closed his eyes and let out a long exhale like he was about to be sick. “I can’t express to you how much I didn’t want to know that.” You smiled at him apologetically letting out a timid ‘sorry’.

The purple eyed boy rubbed at his temples before opening his eyes again. “Okay, I’m probably gonna throw up later and really regret asking you this but: have you ever been in charge? Ya know, taken on the reins while you two are…” He held his hand over his stomach dramatically. “Having sex?”

your gaze remained on the clean kitchen floor as you answered his question. “No…”

“Well there you go, now if you’ll excuse me I need to go drink this conversation from my memory.”

Since that night you have been on a mission: make Aemond’s fantasy come to life.

It started like all good missions did — with a bit of thorough research of course. Aemond is a stickler for details and you needed all of them if you were going to pull this off successfully. The magazine from all the detail you managed to pull out of poor Aegon was a Hustler and based on the years Aemond would have been in middle school you managed to comb through every edition of Hustler during that time until you found it: the librarian spread.

This took you to the next step in your plan: the outfit. There wasn’t really much to it, obviously most of it was pulled off the models body in favour of showing off what was underneath, but you focused on what remained. Petite framed glasses, a white button up (tossed aside on the desk she sat on but you figured she was probably wearing it at some point in time), black pencil skirt, stockings, garter belt, and most importantly no panties.

All of this planning and waiting had finally led up to today. You have a day off to get your shit in order and Aemond’s shift ends early. You are quite proud of yourself honestly. Who knew being a research nerd could come in handy in the bedroom?

Now it was just time to see if Aemond appreciates it as much as you do.

From your spot in the kitchen you hear your boyfriend's keys enter the lock to your apartment – your cue to bolt into the bedroom. Inside the bedroom your heart races, nerves suddenly getting the best of you. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thinks you’re trying to belittle him? What if he thinks you look stupid?

“Baby?” Aemond calls from inside the main hallway.

“In the bedroom!” Well there was no going back now. Fuck it. You press play on the playlist you curated and pose yourself sitting on top of Aemond’s desk, just like the picture.

The door creaks open, revealing the white haired man to you. For a second he doesn’t look up, good eye still locked onto his phone. “What’s with the mu–” His eye meets with yours and stops him in his tracks. The bag he is carrying falls off his shoulder. The way he blushed at the birthday dinner has nothing on the state of his face now.

A few long moments pass by and the two of you remain perfectly still. It makes the knot in your stomach worse. “Please say something.” You beg as Aemond remains gobsmacked.

“You– how did – wh – you look–” He babbles like a small child.

“Please make it intelligible.” you try to lighten the mood as your hands play with each other anxiously.

It seems to shake Aemond out of his idiotict trance. “You look like the librarian from my magazine.”

“I do.” You change your tone to sound calm and collected while feeling like you’re about to explode inside.

“Why?”

“I thought you might appreciate it if I initiated something for once.”

Aemond soaks in the vision before him giving you a swift up and down glance. The pit continues growing in you but you refuse to let it show. “Do you?” You ask, impersonating all those sexually confident people you’ve seen in movies.

“I do.” Thank fuck.

Aemond rips the jacket from off his shoulders, practically running across the bedroom to reach you. He pulls you up off the desk but before he has the chance to kiss you you put a stop to him. Both hands push his face away but remain holding it so he’s forced to look at you. “Not so fast there mister.”

His face is priceless, a perfect mixture of confusion and desperation. “From now on I’m in charge, alright? You are going to lay there like the good boy I know you can be, while the sweet little librarian takes good care of you, understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” His pupil dilates so wide you can hardly see the usual violet colour of his iris.

“Yes you understand who?”

A surprise smirk graces your boyfriend's beautiful face. “Yes, I understand…ma’am.”

“Good, now take off your clothes and get on the bed.” In a flash Aemond’s clothes came flying off you like you have never seen before. You knew this would get him worked up but you did not expect him to be this into it.

As the Targaryen’s boxers hit the floor and he hits the plush mattress you pull open a bag holding your secret weapon for the night. With the ‘weapon’ hiding behind your back you move up the bed straddling his muscular thigh, sitting your bare cunt directly on his skin. His already hard cock twitches with excitement. “Fuck me, are you not wearing any–?”

“No.” you say plainly, like you did this everyday. “Now I’ve got a little something special for you before I completely blow your mind.”

“I really don’t see this getting better than it is but if you say so,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I trust you.”

From behind you you reveal it: a black rubber cock ring. “I wanna see you squirm.”

Aemond’s silver-blonde locks splay out onto the pillows as he plops his head back onto the pillows. “You are trying to kill me, woman.” He groans.

“Oh you love it.” With that you wrap your manicured hand around his cock, stretching the black rubber around the base.Your boyfriend jumps slightly at the contact. “How’s it feel?”

“Wonderful, now can we get on with the main event, please?”

“Don’t forget baby, you’re not the one calling the shots tonight. Be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you.”

“Always.” He smiles. You can’t help yourself against his charms, flopping onto him to plant a sweet kiss to his lips. He wastes no time reciprocating it, taking the kiss from zero to a hundred faster than you can snap your fingers. His tongue slithering its way into your mouth. Your moans vibrated against his lips. Aemond was definitely the best kisser out of all the guys you had been with.

You reach your right hand up pushing it between the two of you, separating your lips. Aemond is clearly about to protest as you cut him off. “Spit.” No bullshit, just straight to the point. Based on the focused expression on his face the dots are taking their sweet time to connect in his pretty little head. Then it clicks and Aemond looks like a kid in a candy shop. He leans over your palm, saliva dripping down into your hand.

As the spit sinks across your palm you reach down to rub the wetness around his throbbing cock, stroking him up and down painfully slowly. Your other hand makes its way to his heavy balls, massaging them delicately in between your fingers.

You always loved playing with Aemond’s cock, but you were never allowed to take your time with it. It’s the one thing you despise about your boyfriend constantly being the one in charge. This was your time to truly tease him like he had been teasing you since you got together.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” You eye him over the glasses perched on your nose.

“Fuck yes!” Aemond yelps with pure euphoria.

“You kiss your mothers with that mouth?” You continue your teasing, the sound of the shucking filling the bedroom.

“No but I really wanna kiss you again — ma’am.” You appreciate that even though he was struggling through it he still uses your proper title.

“Come here baby.” Like a man starved Aemond pushes himself up to meet your lips once more. Now was your chance. With Aemond distracted by the kiss you slowly pull away your hand from his sack to grab the remote for the cock ring off the dresser. Time to hope he enjoys this little extra surprise.

Bzzz…

Aemonds hips slam up into your fist in shock. “Jesus- fuck!”

“Now you know how I feel, huh?” You say recalling all the times that the blonde had used your vibrators on you.

The vibrations make his rod jump, shaking so fast your eyes can’t even comprehend its moving at all. God it’s hot. It had become far too normal for Aemond to watch you shake and your eyes roll back into your head with ecstasy but never you with him. It makes you feel powerful.

“F-feels so fucking good—” Aemond struggles to be coherent through the throws of pleasure.

Your hands pick up the pace, tightening your grip around him. His eyes are becoming more and more glassy as the moments pass by. Settling down till your stomach touches your knees, skirt (barely) coved ass poking out to the air. You kiss your way down his chest, leaving lipstick marks as you go until you reach the base of his vibrating cock.

Your mind swarms with ideas of how you can possibly torture him, but you decide against anymore prolonged suffering because of how desperately you need him in your mouth. You lick your way up to his leaking tip, keeping eye contact the entire time.

You run your hands over the sides of his hips as you suck the tip into your mouth. Preparing yourself with a deep breath through your nose, you dive down, deepthroating the rest of him into your throat. The tip of your nose touched the smooth base of his pubic bone. He always filled your holes so perfectly.

The sounds of your throat bobbing over him mixed with muted vibrations and Aemond’s moans make your cunt pulsate. You and Aemond are not new to dirty but something about this type of dirty got you going in a way you have never felt before.

“I’m gonna come—fuck! I’m gonna come down your perfect throat—” That is all you need to hear to pull yourself away from him (as much as you hate to).

Wiping the saliva from the corners of your mouth you press the button on the remote of the cock ring, turning the vibrations off. Aemond whines like a scorned child. A sound you're not familiar with from him, but you could picture yourself getting used to.

“Did you really think that I was going to let you come that fast? I need to make you earn it first, baby.”

He looks up at you, begging. “How? Please just tell me how I’ll do anything, I just need to be inside you. I wanna be your good boy.” His voice cracks like he’s on the brink of tears.

“You have to address me properly.”

“Anything for you ma’am.”

“Now, beg.” You tug the base of his cock into your hands, jerking him off like you were in no rush.

“Please…?” His brows knit together like a kicked puppy.

You halt your movements and grip your boyfriend’s length, not enough to actually hurt him, just enough to make Aemond whine once more. “God do you even want me to fuck you? I said beg.” You say while pulling the almost sheer white top from your body, leaving the skirt and stockings in their place though.

“Please fuck ma’am? I promise I’ll be good for you, I need to be inside of you so bad. I love your cunt so much, I need it around me. I need to feel you come on me, please?”

“Aw, look at that, you are my good boy after all.” With that you are fully on top of him. Hands planted onto his firm chest while you lean forward to tug your skirt up, revealing the lack of underwear beneath them. With his eyes thoroughly distracted by your bare cunt you pull his aching tip inside of your soaking wet entrance.

You had sex not two days before now but somehow the stretch of Aemond inside was still a shock to your system. Maybe it’s because you had never had him like this, crying below you like just being inside you was already the greatest pleasure he could experience.

“Jesus—Christ!”

You take your time adjusting to him, gradually sinking lower towards his abdomen. Your clit grazes the black silicone, alerting you that you’ve reached the bottom. Pushing yourself all the way back up to his tip you slam down as you speak. “Did all that begging make your cock harder, Aem? Do you like begging for me?”

“So much…” The words are almost inaudible through his moans.

“You don’t come until I let you, understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

It only eggs you on more. The sound of wet skin smacking and whimpering fill your ears. No thoughts pass through either of your heads.

The rocking of your hips became more frantic, desperate. Your soft wet walls hugging your boyfriend like a vice. Aemond’s reach up into the pillows, gripping so hard they change from pink to white instantly.

Your mask begins to fall at the pleasure building in your core. Legs shaking at either side of Aemond’s hips. Just like that you pull the blonde up from his horizontal position, his grip falling from the pillows. Lips crashing together in a blur as sweat pools down both your backs. “I’m so fucking close, can I come, please?” His begging is muffled against your mouth.

“Soon, I promise. Rub my clit for me baby?” He obeyed immediately. His pointer and index finger caressing against your pulsing clit. “Fuck yes! so good Aem.” Your hands wander to his hair, like you are the master and he’s your little puppet.

You can’t hold back anymore, the sensation of his lips against yours mixed with Aemond’s precise movements against your bud send you hurdling towards your orgasm. “M’coming, come for me aem, do it for me baby—” Aemond follows fast behind you, crying out your name as he reaches his peak. His cock painting your insides with his cum.

You come back down to earth together, a jumble of words spilling from both of your lips: I love you, thank you, so good, kiss me.

You collapse into a puddle on your boyfriend’s sweat soaked chest. His fingers travel through your hair as you both catch your breath. As he tucks the lock behind your ears he finally speaks coherently. “So, are you gonna tell me how you managed to replicate the exact outfit from the original photo I used to wank off to or…?”

You smile, lifting your head to face him and his pink flushed cheeks. “A great magician never reveals their secrets.”

[mywritersmind]

TELL ME IF YOU HATE ME - KA12

summary : kimi has a crush and a shit way of dealing with it, you think he hates you.

listen up : not proof read lolz! requests are open!!

word count : 1683

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The cars zoom past me as I press my finger down and a series of clicks sounds from my camera. I smile, holding my camera up and making sure I got the shot I wanted.

I did.

I see a flash of red by the garage which makes me breathe out, Ollie just crashed and I know it freaked him out. I put my eye to my camera again, zooming in so I can see if he’s okay.

He is.

I snap some far photos of the garages, passing Ferrari, then McLaren, and right as I'm about to skip over Mercedes, something catches my eye.

Lewis isn’t the one who gets out of his car, but a smaller boy with a mess of brown curls. He claps one of the pit crew members on the back and smiles. As he turns to face the track, I get a full view of his face.

Kimi Antonelli.

I had forgotten about the boy who’s driving with Mercedes next year. Ollie was talking my ear off about it last week but still… I guess I was so focused on shooting the cars that I didn’t realize who was in it.

I snap a photo of him, the light hitting his face perfectly as he takes a deep breath.

I’ve never met him, but I was forced to follow Prema by Ollie so I know he fits into Ollie’s odd life perfectly.

I walk back into the ferrari garage, smiling at my boss who takes my camera from me. I’m doing an internship, specifically with Ferrari's media team. Once they found out I like photography, they let me have a camera and media access.

I smile at Ollie who shoots me a thumbs up, letting me know he’s okay. I end up eating alone while scrolling on my phone, some people walk past but because free practice 2 is happened, most people are watching.

I take a bite of my salad and scroll once more. I get a weird feeling after my third bite, and when I look up, it’s the last thing I expect.

Kimis there.

He’s still in his race suit, his hair messy and a water bottle in his hand. His eyes get big when I turn to him. I’m about to raise my hand to wave but he spins around and bolts in the other direction.

I laugh out loud but when I look around, no one’s there to have seen it.

That was… weird.

⋆༺

“Hey, Y/n!” Ollie yells to me across the paddock, he’s standing with Kimi and Jack Doohan. I smile and wave, saying goodbye to who I was speaking with, and flipping my hair over my shoulder before making my way over to them.

“Hey! Happy Quali day!” I smile at them, especially Jack because I haven’t seen him all weekend.

“What are you up to today?” The australian asks me, his hands in his pockets.

“Taking pictures mostly, trying to get a bad one of Charles, and watching Quali. How about you guys?” I turn pointedly towards Ollie and Kimi but the Italian has his eyes pointed elsewhere and his mouth shut.

“Kimi and I.” Ollie grips Kimis shoulder and practically forces him to look at me, he smiles softly but looks back at Ollie as he talks, “are doing the same! Minus the photos and stuff. Wanna grab lunch with us later?”

I nod, pulling out my phone as I get a call, “Shit, i’m so late! See you guys later!”

⋆༺

Quali is fun and the Mexican fans are absolutely exhilarating. After getting caught up with photos, I finally met Ollie and Kimi in the Ferrari hospitality.

Except there’s no Kimi.

I raise a brow as we sit down, “Does Kimi not like me?”

Ollie moves his food around, “Uh… I don’t think so. Why?”

I shrug, “I just get the feeling he doesn’t really enjoy my company. Which hasn’t been much around him.”

Ollie frowns, “No! He just had to shoot something for Mercedes. He wanted to come.”

⋆༺

You know those times where you wish you could go back in time just five seconds? That’s how I feel right now.

“No!” I yell as Kimi turns the corner with four coffees in his hands and runs directly into me. “Fuck!” I back away from him, shaking off my hands instantly.

“Ah!” He does the same, looking up at me slowly, “I am so sorry…” This is the first time he speaks to me? Seriously!?

I take a breath, trying to gain control of my mind that’s screaming. I peel off my sweater, luckily my shirt underneath is untouched.

“I- Shit.” I groan and wipe my arms off with my sweater, “What are you, an errand boy!? I thought I was the one with an internship.” He laughs at this, then slaps his hand over his mouth.

“I’m genuinely so sorry.” He shakes his head, everything on me now smelling like coffee. I look at his shirt which is partly splashed.

“It’s not fine but It wasn’t on purpose.” I shrug, just staring down at the coffee cups.

“I’m such an idiot.” He groans, “Look, I’ll buy you a coffee to make it up to you.”

I smile slightly, crossing my arms, “Coffee in Ferrari hospitality is free. I’m assuming it’s the same for Mercedes.” He shakes his head, looking horrified.

“That shit is gross. I know a place.”

The ‘Place’ in question is in the general admission area. He pulls on my ferrari hat for extra security and grabs our coffees quickly.

“I actually can’t believe you’re wearing red.” We walk the back way, laughing. Maybe he doesn’t hate me? Or maybe he does and the coffee was all apart of some scheme.

He side eyes me, “Neither can I.” He pulls it off of his head, “Toto would kill me.”

Ollie finds us the second we step foot in the paddock, “Hey! Don’t tell me you became friends without me! Do not forget that I started this!”

“Yeah ok, Ol- I’ll give you friendship creds.” I pat his shoulder as he frowns.

⋆༺

It’s dark by the time I head out of the paddock, yawning, I notice Kimi on his phone. “Hey!” I say, smiling as he looks up at me.

Except his face does that weird thing again.

His cheeks go red and he looks like he’s forcing a smile. “Hi.” He says softly.

“Good day?” He nods, looking back at his phone and clearing his throat.

“Yeah.” He keeps it quick before walking away, “Bye.”

“Bye…?” Okay. So I don’t think I'm going crazy now because that was one weird ass conversation. If you can even call it that.

⋆༺

I wake up on race day and do my morning ritual, scrolling on instagram. I don’t go through all of my notifications often, but today something caught my eye.

Liked by Kimi Antonelli

The post is laughable, it’s from two years ago, Ollie and I were celebrating our birthdays since they fall on the same day.

Weird, Again.

I get ready and head out even though that stupid like is on my mind the whole time.

As if the universe is sending a message, I walk into the paddock at the same time as Kimi. He’s talking to his team member in fast italian and I ignore the fact that it’s 100% hot and focus on the fact that he 100% ignored me!

I call Ollie immediately, “Your friend hates me.”

I hear him laugh on the other side of the phone, “Kimi?”

“See! You already know who I'm talking about!” I groan as I enter Ferrari hospitality.

“Y/n. I think you just make him nervous.”

I stop dead in my tracks, “What?”

“Look, I absolutely love you. But you have a total resting bitch face!” I scoff at him even though I know it’s true, “He sees you taking photos a lot and even though I try to get him to talk to you, he’s like scared or some shit. I think he thinks you’re pretty too.”

I hang up.

⋆༺

I watch from the garage, spirits are high but I find myself distracted as Kimis face comes up on the screen.

Why is he so cute?

I bite my lip and think. I want him to like me. I want him to be friends with me like how he is with Ollie! So why can’t he see that? I mean, there’s a possibility he just doesn’t like me.

In that case, that’s fine! I just want to know.

My thoughts are how I find myself cornering him with my arms crossed and my actual bitch face on.

“Um… yes?” He looks scared.

“Do you not like me, or something?” He frowns, “I mean- If you don’t, that’s fine! But I don’t fuck with people who aren’t honest. Because I know i’m not completely likable to everyone and genuinely I don’t care if you don’t like me but I sorta hope you do because Ollie is my friend and Ollie is your friend and he wants us to be friends!” I take a breath.

Kimi just blinks, “I do like you.”

I roll my eyes.

“I just… felt embarrassed.” I raise a brow. Embarrassed? “I dumped coffee on you! And then I liked that post which had Ollie telling me to stop screaming into my pillow.” I laugh at that. “I just… I'm not good with pretty girls.”

That has me frozen.

“And you’re like scary pretty.”

I laugh, smiling, “You’re totally boosting my ego right now.” He just called me pretty.

He rolls his eyes, standing up straighter, “I’m sorry for being awkward.”

I sigh dramatically, “It’s fine.” I flip my hair over my shoulder, smirking, “My good looks just stuns people sometimes-”

He pushes my shoulder, “Oh fuck off!” I laugh with him, his cheeks red again, “Can I make it up to you?”

I bite my lip, hiding my smile, “Pick me up at 8.”

[menagerofmischief]

I rarely indulge in these kinds of things but I love your diner and I have to place my own order!!

Served by Lando Norris

Starter - artichoke dip (thinking Fewtrell reader cause Lando had been WANTING reader)

cold appetizer

Main dish:

Sausage rolls

Sushi

Ceasar Salad

Veggie Burger

Drinks:

Fanta

Apple cider

Vodka soda

Dessert - yes

Fav GP is Singapore or Vegas was fun last year! (Im a whore for a good night race)

Dia's Diner Menu

artichoke dip brother's friend cold appetizer rough sex sausage rolls "I'll make it fit" veggie burger "Feel how hard you make me" sushi "Better quiet down you don't want them to hear us" ceaser salad "Lie to me again and you're not gonna like what happens next" fanta size kink apple cider spitting vodka redbull squirting dessert aftercare + moussaka "You look your best covered in my cum"

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!reader

TW: unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, spitting in mouth

WC: 2.3k

A/N: I kid you not, I screamed when I got this request. I was so happy to write something for you, hope you enjoy it!

❀

“You’re like a fucking dog, Norris!” I say, bringing my hands up to shield by face as Lando shakes his head, droplets of water from his wet hair spraying onto me.

Lando has been best friends with my brother, Max, for practically as long as I can remember. He was always there and he was everywhere. From family dinner to family vacations, you name it, he’s attended it with my brother.

He’s been around for every awkward phase of my life and every especially embarrassing moment. I wasn’t blind, I’ve always thought he was attractive and it would be a lie to say I’ve never had feelings for him. 

But I never dared to say anything. He was Max’s best friend which meant he was off limits or my brother would throw a hissy fit. And I’m sure he had received a speech about how I was off limits from my brother as well.

Not that it ever stopped him from letting his gaze wander over my body, studying every curve and looking way longer than he should have. Or giving me one of his infamous smirks whenever I caught him doing it.

We were currently on a summer vacation with Max and his girlfriend Pietra. It was summer break for Formula 1, so Max insisted on taking a trip with Lando and dragging me along. Summer trips meant warm places with beaches and beaches with Lando meant getting sprayed with water while I was laying on the sunbeds.

Lando laughed, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Should I bark then as well?” He asked, his lips stretching into a smirk. 

“You try that and I’ll call animal control to pick you up.” I said, rolling my eyes at him. I moved my eyes back to the book I had laying open in my lap, trying my best to focus on the words on the page instead of him.

He was still wet from the water and I couldn’t decide which part of him I wanted to look at more. His chest, with drops of water sliding down and catching along his happy trail. Or his thighs, the way his wet swim trunks hugged his muscular thighs, making them look extra delicious.

Not only that but the outline of his dick was very clear and practically begging me to look at it.

“You like what you see?” Lando asked, the tone of his voice teasing. Slowly I dragged my gaze back up to meet his, feeling my cheeks heat up a little from the embarrassment.

“The only thing bigger than your ego is the iceberg that sank the Titanic.” I told him, quickly returning my attention back to my book. Lando only laughed in response.

✿ ✿ ✿

Later that night, back in the hotel, I was laying in my bed bored out of my mind. I scrolled Instagram enough for a warning to pop up that I spent too much time on the app and then scrolled TikTok until the videos became repetitive.

At first I thought I’d go to Max’s room and annoy him but then decided against it in favor of giving him and his girlfriend some alone time. After another five minutes of fatal boredom I dragged myself out of the bed and set my way towards Lando’s room.

The door swung open after only one knock, leaving my hand still in the air as I faced Lando. He was shirtless, with a pair of shorts low enough on his waist to show just a hint of the waistband of his boxers. His hair was damp and his room just a bit steamed up - he must have showered recently.

“Expecting someone?” I asked, giving him a smirk.

“Yes,” he said, a smile stretching over his lips. “I was expecting you.”

He moved to the side to let me get into his room and closed the door behind me. I hummed, “I’m sure you were.”

“I was actually,” he said, throwing himself onto his bed. He put his hands behind his head, stretching himself and the muscles in his arms flexed.

Lando may not be the tallest guy, but he was taller than me, that’s for sure. And his build, along with all the muscles that his extensive training had formed on his body made him look even more deliciously bigger.

I was staring, my gaze fixated on his movements. This time I didn’t even have the courtesy to look ashamed of doing it.

Lando moved so quickly I barely saw it coming. One of his hands grabbed mine and pulled me onto the bed, making me land right on top of him. I gasped, bracing my hands against the mattress and looking at him with wide eyes.

In this position he was so close, closer than he’s ever been. I stared at him, my mouth slightly open as I breathed, my breath mingling with his. “Lando,” I whispered, not daring to speak at full volume, afraid the moment was just going to disappear.

His gaze went down, his eyes fixated on my lips. I didn’t allow myself any time to overthink, knowing I would end up chickening out - so I leaned down and tentatively brushed my lips against his.

Lando groaned at the contact, his hand grabbing the back on my neck and forcing me towards him even more, crashing my lips against his in a bruising kiss. His tongue stroked mine and I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, unaware of the fact that I was grinding against him.

We finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air. My cheeks felt like they were burning and there was a hint of redness on Lando’s as well.

“Fuck,” I whispered, the curse rolling off my tongue. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong -”

Lando cut me off by thrusting his hips upwards, his bulge rubbing against my clothed core. “Feel that?” Lando asked, his breath hot against my face. “Feel how hard you make me? Feel how good it is to have me rubbing against you?” I nodded breathlessly, unable to form words. “Something that feels this right, definitely can’t be wrong.”

And he’s right. It feels good, it feels right. I like him and for once I stop thinking about what everyone else wants and what they’ll think and focus on myself.

I find myself nodding along, leaning down to kiss him again. It’s desperate, passionate, full with need and longing that it seems both of us have been trying to suppress. 

“Let me take this off, yeah?” Lando asks, pulling away and reaching for the hem of my top. Wordlessly I lift my hands up, making it easier for him to slide it over my head.

I’m not wearing a bra, so the second my top is off my tits are bare for him to see. My nipples harden and I hiss when Lando palms my breasts and teasingly runs his thumb over my nipple before pinching it.

“Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles, not wasting a second longer before he’s diving down, his lips wrapping around my nipple and rolling the bug with his tongue. A moan slips past my lips and I wrap my fingers around his locks, keeping his head in place.

“Lando, please,” I whine, my voice breathy and desperate. “Want you to fuck me.”

He doesn’ need to hear more than that, suddenly he’s flipping us over, towering over me. He presses a quick kiss to my lips before going down and taking my shorts and panties off with one go.

He blows air on my pussy, making me whine and playfully slap his arm. “Stop teasing, it’s mean.”

He chuckles, his fingers slipping through my arousal and circling my entrance. “Tell me baby,” he whispers against my skin, his lips pressed to my collarbones. “How many times did you touch yourself just like this, imagining it was me instead.”

I shake my head, not wanting to admit the truth. “Didn’t,” I manage to murmur out.

He huffs, and then his fingers pinch my clit, making me buck my hips and moan at the mix of pain and pleasure. “Lie to me again, and you’re not gonna like what happens next.” His voice leaves no room for argument and I know he really means it. “Now, I think I asked you a question.”

“Too many!” I admit, a moan slipping out when his fingers begin to rub my clit in fast, harsh circles. “I don’t know! Don’t keep track of how much I do it.”

“There we go,” Lando hums, the expression on his face looking satisfied. “See how good you can behave.”

He slips two fingers in me, sliding right in with no resistance, thanks to how wet I am. Through the whole process he keeps rubbing my clit, and suddenly the pleasure doubles when he starts to thrust his fingers into me, grazing my G-spot every time.

“Lando, so good,” I moan out. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I didn’t say them because the pleasure that was building up is instantly gone as Lando pulls his fingers out and away from my clit. I’m left gasping, looking at him with a glare.

“Fuck sweetheart don’t look at me like that,” he says, his voice is hoarse. “I’ve thought about this so many times. The first time I make you cum I want it to be around my cock.”

He lifts his hand, his fingers covered in my arousal, and pops them into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. “Taste so good, sweetheart, come on open up.”

Instinctively I open my mouth, thinking he’s going to push his fingers into my mouth for me to taste myself. Instead he leans over me and spits into my mouth, and though barely, I can taste myself.

I moan when it hits my tongue, and lock my eyes with his before swallowing. He groans, his fingers grabbing my chin, “God, you’re such a good girl. Perfect little slut - and just for me.”

“Just for you,” I repeat, nodding my head. “Now please fuck me, Lando, it’s too much!”

Lando takes off his shorts and boxers, leaving himself bare in front of me. My eyes are instantly drawn to his cock, standing proud, the tip leaking pre-cum. My eyes widen at the size of it, he’s bigger than anyone I’ve been with before.

He must see it on my face because he cups my cheek with one hand while nestling himself between my thighs. “Don’t worry, sweet girl, I’ll make it fit.”

He pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size, pushing inch after inch inside of me until his hips are flush against mine. He looks at me for confirmation and I give him a nod to go ahead.

While he was really sweet by starting gentle and going slow until I was ready - now that he’s fucking me, he’s anything but. Lando’s thrusts are rough, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back, deep inside, his hips hitting mine over and over again.

“Lando, so good, fuck!” I moan out. My voice is high pitches and my moans are becoming louder as I am unable to control them, or think anything much in general.

Lando’s hand presses down against my mouth, instantly muffling the sound of my moans. “Better quiet down,” he growls into my ear. “Max and Pietra are in the room next door. You don’t want them to hear us do you?”

I shake my head no and Lando removes his hand. Without his hand covering my mouth it’s much harder to keep the moans and whines coming out of my lips down. 

“Lan, I’m gonna cum, please!” I plead, feeling the pleasure build up, unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

“Go on,” Lando says with a groan and I feel him twitch inside of me. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my dick.”

His words topple me over the edge and I come harder than I’ve ever cum before. It’s not until I look down and see Lando’s abdomen and half of the bed wet that I realize I squirted. Lando groans, his fingers rubbing through my fold for a moment before he brings them up to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“That was so hot baby,” he says. He thrusts into me a few more times and then pulls out, cumming all over my stomach and tits.

He looks down at me, trying to catch his breath and his eyes sparkle with a hint of something. “You always look so damn gorgeous,” he says, his fingers rubbing gentle comforting circles into my hip. “But you look your best covered in my cum.”

I stared at the ceiling, still a bit out of breath. “That was the best orgasm of my life,” I said, with a laugh.

“Guess I’ll have to give you many more then,” Lando said.

“I don’t how you’ll survive,” I teased.

“I’ll make do,” Lando replied, leaning down to kiss me sweetly. He reached for his suitcase that was next to the bed and got a what I assumed was a dirty shirt and used it to wipe his cum off my body.

After that he got another T-Shirt, this time a clean one and helped me put it on. He put his underwear back on and then crawled into the bed, next to me. He wrapped one of his arms around my stomach and placed lazy kisses on my cheek and neck.

“Want to watch a movie and order room service?” He asked, rubbing his nose against my neck.

“God, you’re perfect.”

“Thanks, I know!”

“Just play the damn movie, Lando.”

[urloveada]

UNDERSTOOD

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: joe goldberg x f!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.9k+

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: smut, p in v, edging, swearing, vibrator, ‘you belong to me’ vibes, dom/sub undertones; dom!joe, sub!reader.

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: you and joe decided to go on a date night, but he does not appreciate you flirting with the waiter, then acting innocent about it.

𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: not beta read, i apologize for any errors!! || my new bsf (🤫) has been dying for this fic; i really hope you enjoy!!

You and Joe finally decided to go out on a date. You’ve both been so busy with work lately you haven’t gotten to spend much time together. Joe’s working full time; you're working part time, but unfortunately your schedules barely line up.

 

It was Joe’s idea to come to this restaurant; this was where you met. So, it’s quite sentimental to the both of you. which is a big reason why your boyfriend is eyeing you angrily as you flirt with the young waiter.

 

Now in your defence, you didn’t mean for the flirting to start; it just happened. He came to take your order but could not keep his eyes off you. Of course Joe noticed; he notices everything, especially when it comes to you. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joe clench his jaw in frustration, maybe even jealousy. So that’s when you decided to play along, for as long as Joe would let you, that is.

 

“Okay, your food will be ready in a few minutes. It might take a bit longer since we’re currently low staff.” The young waiter, whose name you learned is Elliot, tells you apologetically.

 

“It’s okay, baby; we aren’t in a rush,” you tell him kindly before he walks away, making sure you emphasize the word 'baby.'

 

Joe stares at you silently, trying to collect his thoughts before he speaks. “What are you doing?” The warning was clear: don’t do it again or you won’t like the consequences.

 

You stay silent, looking innocently at him, until he raises his eyebrows, indicating he’s expecting an answer.

 

“I’m just being polite; is that a problem?” You sass, crossing your arms over your chest.

 

“Oh, you do NOT get to flirt with the waiter than sass me. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Joe asks sternly, keeping eye contact with you as you try looking away.

 

“Oh my, God, Joe. It’s not that big of a deal. Why are you being such a—“

 

“Okay, we have one order of the grilled chicken, with salad on the side,” Elliot cuts you off, bringing your food over, “and one order of steak and baked potatoes.” He slides Joe his dinner.

 

“Can I get you anything else? a refill on your drinks maybe?” Elliot offers the both of you. Joe notices Elliot’s hand slightly brushing against your shoulder but doesn’t comment on it.

 

Joe shakes his head no.

 

“No thanks, darling,” you say, smiling at Elliott as he walks away to take other orders.

 

Joe is now looking at you furiously. “This is your last warning. Do it again, and we’re leaving; do you understand me?” Joe demands, grabbing your chin so you’re making eye contact.

 

You nod your head, but roll your eyes while trying to wriggle out of his grip.

 

“uh, uh. eyes up here. I said, Do you understand me?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” you nod your head. “I understand.”

 

Joe releases his grip and nods his head. “Now eat, please.”

 

_________

 

You and Joe eat your dinner peacefully, finally having the evening together Joe wanted. You are so close to finishing your meal without anymore distractions until Elliott comes over one last time to check on you.

 

“Is everything alright?” Elliot asks, sounding like he genuinely cares how your meal is.

 

“It was delicious, thank you,” you reply, setting the fork down and looking up at Elliot. “Wasn’t it good, Joe?" You turn to look at your boyfriend.

 

“Yes, it was. Thank you,” he says politely, despite how annoyed he is with Elliot.

 

“I’m glad to hear that!” Elliot replies happily, “Would you like me to get the bill now?” He asks, collecting your empty plates and utensils.

 

“Yes, love, that sounds wonderful,” you respond with the same level of enthusiasm.

 

Elliot leaves to get the bill, and you look over at Joe, not expecting to see him so angry.

 

“I have told you several times to knock it off. I am sick of you disrespecting me,” Joe says sternly.

 

He leans forward to whisper this last part so only you can hear.

 

“When we get home, you are being punished. I do not care how much you don’t want it; you will be punished for your actions, and that is final. Do you understand?”

 

You look at Joe bewildered. Sure, you wanted to push his buttons; angry sex is the best, is it not? but a punishment? That was something you didn’t expect.

 

"Yes, sir,” you respond sheepishly, “understood.”

 

_________

 

The drive home is silent, not even the sound of the radio going. You knew you were going to be in trouble, but not this much trouble.

 

I mean, really? a punishment?  

That’s not necessary. Of course you’d never say this to Joe; he would not approve of this mindset.

 

when you finally arrive home and Joe parks the car in the driveway. There’s a moment or two of silence while he tries collecting his thoughts.

 

He turns to you and grabs your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look him in the eyes when he talks to you.

“When you go inside, I want you to strip completely and wait for me on the bed. I will be inside in a few minutes. Go.”

 

Joe releases his grip, and you scramble out of the car and inside the house, shutting the door behind you. You run up the stairs and go to your shared bedroom.

 

You strip off your clothes, put them in the laundry basket, and wait on the bed as Joe instructed.

 

You heard Joe walking up the stairs a few minutes after you sat down. He wasn’t stomping, which was a good sign.

 

Joe opened the door and looked to the bed, making sure you listened. “Finally learned how to listen, hm?” He teased, walking over to the bed to stand above you.

 

“Go get the vibrator,” Joe says sternly, pointing to the nightstand on the opposite side of you.

 

“Joe, please no,” you plead, making zero effort to do as you’re told.

 

“Now.”

 

You sigh and climb across the bed. opening the drawer aggressively and grabbing the vibrator. Sliding across the bed you had it to Joe, and once again start pleading.

 

“please, please! dont. I’ll be good, Joe.” You give him your best puppy eyes. “So good, I promise.”

 

His eyes soften slightly, and he rubs his thumb across your lips before leaning in and softly kissing them.

 

He pulls back and admires you for a moment before saying, “Lay down, on your back, spread your legs.”

 

You whine but obey him wordlessly, trying your best to prepare yourself for what’s about to happen.

 

“Good girl,” Joe turns on the vibrato to its slowest level and holds it between your legs.

 

You gasp and twitch at the sudden sensation between your legs but say nothing; instead, you grip the soft cotton sheets in order to hold still.

 

“Oh baby,” Joe coos, placing down the vibrator so it won’t move when he lets go. and sits down on a chair beside the bed. “This is only the beginning, and your already gasping and moaning?”

 

You glare at your boyfriend and begin to say something when your cut off by the vibration being turned up a level, using a remote Joe keeps with him.

 

“Joe,” you groan, struggling to keep still. You look over at your boyfriend to see him smiling at you, enjoying watching you struggle to keep your composure.

 

“hmm?” He hums, “What is it, baby?” Turning it up to the max speed, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

 

“Mmm, fuck,” you moan breathlessly, gripping at the sheets even harder.

 

“Use your words,” he tuts.

 

“Please, off,” you beg helplessly, “I'm going to come, please.”

 

“Uh, uh. No, your not.” Joe sits up and pushes the vibrator deeper, rubbing it up and down. “Only good girls get to come. Were you a good girl?”

 

You quickly shake your head no, hopeful that if you obey, you will get the reward of coming.

 

“No? No what, baby, use your words.” He says sternly but not coldly.

 

“No,” you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. “No, I wasn’t a good girl.”

 

“No, you weren’t,” he agrees, stopping the movement of the vibrator and leaving it still once more. “What were you then? hmm?" joe prompts.

 

“Bad girl,” you answer, arching your back, trying to nonchalantly wiggle away from the vibrations.

 

“Yeah, you were a bad girl.” He notices your wiggles and once again moves the vibrator closer to your clit. “And do bad girls get to come?”

 

“No, they don't.” You give him your best ‘I’ll be a good girl’ eyes, but to no avail.

 

“No, they don’t. Does that mean you get to come?” he asks, finding pleasure in your constant gasps and moans.

 

“No.”

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

You gasp loudly, “Joe, I’m going to come. I can't fight it anymore.” You carefully grind on the vibrator, trying to bring yourself to the orgasm you so badly need.

 

Joe quickly puts an end to that nonsense by taking the vibrator away. “Oh, baby, wrong decision.”

 

Joe waits a few minutes to let you come down from your almost orgasm, then puts the vibrator right back between your thighs.

 

“Oh,” you gasp, gripping at Joe's wrists, your nails digging into his skin. “Please stop. I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg. At this point, you’re willing pretty much anything to get him to stop.

 

“yeah? you have?" He gently removes your nails from digging into him.

 

“Yes! Oh, God, yes.” you all but yell. “I’ll never, ever flirt with someone else again.”

 

“Yeah, I know you won’t,” he agrees, unbuckling his pants and pulling them off.

 

You watch Joe strip, just now noticing how hard he is. Joe pulls down his boxers, and his dick springs out.

 

Joe climbs on the bed with you and removes the vibrator. “Show me how much of a good girl you can be.”

 

You eagerly climb on Joe's lap and position yourself on his cock. Joe slides inside you easily.

 

“Hmm, so wet for me, yeah?” Joe teases, kissing your neck.

 

“Yes,” you reply, turning your neck to the side so he has better access, as you begin to rock back and forth on Joe.

 

He flips you over your laying underneath him while he starts pounding into your dripping wet pussy.

 

You whimper and dig your nails into Joe's back. “Joe,” you pant, “don’t stop, I’m close.”

 

He continues pounding you. “No one will ever make you feel this good,” he whispers in your ear. “Look at you, so needy for me.” He kisses your lips rather aggressively, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

 

You moan in pleasure and run hand through Joe's hair, tugging on it, so his face is closer to yours.

 

You pull back from the kiss to moan out, “Joe, I’m going to come.” He continues, not slowing down his pace.

 

“Come for me, baby, that’s it. good girl,” he praises as you finish.

 

Joe comes shortly after and pulls out. You both flop on your backs, trying to catch your breath. After a minute or so, Joe turns to you. “I meant what I said. No one will make you feel as good as I do.”

 

You nod in agreement, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. “I know,”

 

Joe pulls you close; you rest your head on his chest and close your eyes.

 

“You’re mine; you got that?”

 

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Believe me, I won’t forget.”

𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: requests are open!! feel free to use whenever you want.