#first it wouldn’t do pen pressure

[howgalling]

7 hours later I get my pen pressure working again. 😒

[prettyboykatsuki]

give it to me like you need it, baby | zayne (lnds)

❅ tags ; afab + fem!reader (referred to with she/her several times), established relationship, vague depiction of medical injury, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, unprotected sex, reader is very spoiled skjdds, 18+

❅ wc ; 5.7k (???????????)

❅ a/n ; i started playing this game 48 hours ago. i am out of my mind. sorry. please no spoilers for now JKSDJD. also shoutout to @acerathia who imbued me with even more zayne brainworms that resulted in this KJDSKJ

this is just porn. no plot like fr at all!! dont think too hard about anything!!!! also sorry if the characterization is inconsistent </3

❅ synopsis ; refusing to take your prescribed pain meds, you suggest a different type of pain relief from zayne to heal your injuries.

“You should be more careful,” 

Zayne’s voice is even. It’s the first thing to greet you when you wake up from your most recent round of medication.  There’s a pleasant clarity that comes with every tone and intonation, that somehow manages to  trample the thick fog in your brain after waking up from your last round of narcotics. 

The pain has settled, from a sharp throb to a dull ache but it’s there. You glance around the room for some way to tell the time. There’s still light out but your limbs feel heavy, so you must’ve been asleep for a while. 

“It’s almost evening,” Zayne says, like he’s reading your mind. He sits at the stool at your side with an expression, eyes softened with worry. “An hour or so till sunset.” 

“Right,” You reply. You wince as you sit up, bruised sides still tender and head heavy. You rub your eyelids, a deep pressure in your skull—just behind them, as you readjust to the remnants of light in the room. “Shit, it hurts.” 

“It’s been enough time between doses, so you’ll need to take them again soon for the pain.” Zayne says. 

Your lips curl instantly, shaking your head. “No way. I don’t want to take them again.” 

Zayne stares at you for a while. “You wouldn’t have to take them at all  had you taken the necessary precautions in the first place so I fear there’s little choice in the matter. The pain will be hard to manage without the medications,” 

“Are you nagging me, Doctor?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m treating you. Your injury is substantial and I don’t want you to do anything to aggravate it. Nor do I want you to suffer needlessly” And then, a little softer. “I don’t like prescribing such a strong dosage either.”

“But you did.” 

“Because my patient is severely injury and I’m worried for her quality of life,” Zayne says, firm but not unkind. “Perhaps if said patient took more care to preserve themselves, I could prescribe something lighter.” 

“Are you holding a grudge against me?” 

“Against your recklessness, yes.” 

You pout unthinkingly. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry.” 

Zayne reaches his hand towards the corner of your mouth, pressing his thumb into the line of your frown. “I never said I was angry. Just worried. Don’t trouble yourself.” 

“Then who should I trouble?”

Zayne doesn’t reply to you, though he does smile light enough for you to catch sight of it in the dim lights. He goes back into physician mode before you get a chance to say more, and you’re too tired to give him your usual banter.

There’s a beat of silence between you where Zayne is writing something down on pen and paper while you daydream aimlessly. He’s probably documenting your injuries for record keeping in the system. Encountering an anomaly in your line of work is deceptively common but there hadnt been any exact records on anything like your specific incident. Bits and pieces of stray information but that’s all. Nothing cohesive. While it appears to be normal albeit impressive bruising and broken bones, the unit still thought it best to be monitored. 

(That, along with Zaynes general tendency to fuss over your state, mean you’ve been in this position for a few weeks now. Zayne has taken one of his usual work days off just to tend to you.)

Despite the effort you've put into recovering, sustaining a massive injury has made you feel stir crazy and has not gotten rid of the pain entirely - causing you to wince when you move in the wrong way way.  Noticing the way you deflate, Zayne looks up from his papers. He pauses, studying you and the large bruise up your side. 

“Take your medicine”

“Don’t wanna,” You say petulantly, eyes closed. 

Zayne pauses then sighs as you stubbornly turn him away. He weighs his options before  moving on to focus on your injury. You’re conscious of the hand he has underneath your shirt. How delicately he moves, scarred digits touching like you’re porcelain. You don’t think he does it on purpose, or because he underestimates you. Rather, treating you preciously is the easiest manner of being for him. Still, it does make you pout.

“That’s a nasty bruise even for your line of work. Don't be stubborn.” 

You shake your head. 

 “I’m tough. I can take some pain. It’s better than being groggy at least. Feels like my heads been full of cotton for weeks.” 

“You say that because the medication is working. It’s dulling the pain enough for it to be tolerable even though it can feel unpleasant at times. It’s going to worsen again, gradually, if you don’t keep on the dosage schedule.” 

You open your eyes again to look at him. It’s hard to refute his points, even more so when he makes it so obvious his concerns lie solely in your well-being. But you really, really hate the way it’s making you feel. You feel like you’ve been hit by a crr in general but the added sluggishness from narcotics is too much. Enough to be stubborn and childish about even the most sound advice. You shake your head again, trying to think of a solution to appease you both. 

It doesn’t last long since you quickly get lost in another train of thought as a result of your brain fog. 

When your mind catches up with reality,  your eyes flutter open to a worried looking Zayne. Half-conscious, you feel keenly aware of his presence. Of his hands resting on your sides and the heat that lingers when he moves them. His hands are covered in tens of small scars, fingers thick and long while managing to be elegant. A precision to him. To his features, to his movements, to his actions. 

“Something on your mind?” 

“Hm…?” 

His lips quirk. “You’ve got a look about you,” 

“I was just thinking of alternatives on how to manage pain.” 

“Another medication you mean?” 

You shake your head, smiling crookedly. 

“There are different kinds of pain relief, right? Something more… holistic.” 

“Holisitic?” 

Opting to answer his question another way, you let out an exaggerated noise of relief. “Your hand feels nice doc,” 

Zayne, quick on the uptake, hums to himself not showing any reaction.

“Does holistic feel like the appropriate vocabulary for what you’re implying?” 

“Maybe… something more physical.” 

“I see.” He hums. “And how would something that puts strain on your body improve your injury?” 

“Improving my mood is also an important part of recovery.” 

Zayne sighs. “Please be more mindful about my position as your doctor.” 

“You sound like you’re considering it when you don’t reject me outright.”

“Tsk.”  

He sits up from the stool he’d been sat on while tending to you, instead choosing to sit beside you in bed. You’re propped up in a mess of pillows and blankets, pressed close to the wall. There’s more than enough room for Zayne. The bed creaks under his weight as he stretches his legs, back against the headboard. You turn your head to look at him. 

A long silence falls between you, not uncomfortable. Heavy rather, with tension. Zayne, quick to indulge you, brings a hand up to cradle your face. His hand is cool against your hot skin, big palms cupping your cheek. He hums under his breath, hazel-green eyes tracing the outlines of your features. You keen into his palms and he laughs again, deeper. Richer. 

“I’m not against the suggested methods perse,” Zayne says slowly, holding your gaze while his thumb traces your lip. “Only that it may encourage your recklessness, should I give it to you. You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, I suppose needed some more stimulus isn’t far fetched.” 

“I’ll be more mindful.”  You promise, giving him the wettest puppy eyes you can while you nod enthusiastically. 

“I won’t forgive you otherwise.” 

He leans in. Just enough to tease. You frown. 

“Zayne,” 

His eyes meet your again, heating shooting through your spine. 

“Impatient, foolish, reckless. What should I do with a patient like you?” 

“Spoil me.” You reply shamelessly. His lips quirk up. “I take well to bribery.” 

“Is that really the most effective method?” Zayne pretends to ponder.

You nod. “Promise I’ll be on my best behavior, Doctor.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.” Zayne says, tone soft with affection. He holds a hand out for you. “ Come.”

Zayne tells you to move, but bears no intention of making you do so on your own. He wraps an arm around your back carefully - mindful of the tenderness in your ribs and side. He draws you into his lap with ease, your head tucked against his chest with his chin resting atop of your head. Your legs are drawn across his lap lazily, voice reverberating through your tired limbs as he speaks. 

“Comfortable? No pain?” 

You make an affirmative noise to him, cozying up in the way least straining to your body. 

He’s patient as he undresses you from the waist down - and you allow him, basking in the silent attention. In tattered sleepwear and half-sick, you barely move as the fabric rolls and peels all the to your knees - lazily lifting your legs to take them off along with your underwear in one swift go. A wave of embarrassment tugs at you, self-conscious as you nuzzle further into Zayne’s arms. Paradoxically finding comfort in the same person whose making your feverishness burn brighter, you let your hand clench weekly in his shirt. 

Naked, Zayne brings the hand not supporting your back up to your face. He holds your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilts your head towards him - a chaste kiss promising more. Your eyes lock for a heartbeat until you look away, shy. He lets you lean back further, lazier - until he’s at the right angle to hover over you to kiss you all the better. 

Contrary to the other ways he touches you, most times Zayne kisses you is fierce. Once, twice - to ease you into the pace of his mouth before you find your lips pulled open. It’s the only thing that he does this way, needy from the start. Your lips press to his sweetly, a noise of surprise slipping  that Zayne swallows in the next go. His lips are soft and pleasantly cool to the touch. 

Your hands grip tighter trying to find purchase in the overwhelming want of it. Slow and sticky kisses that make the back of your feel fuzzy, the kind that lingers in the minutes you’re parted. His breath is warm, faint with the smell of mint. 

The coy, cool demeanor you took suggesting this, fades—melts every inch of you. Your body goes slack with arousal underneath the assault, his tongue slipping against yours deeper and deeper. He gets breathy when he kisses, a longing sigh as you keen up into his mouth or suck his tongue - your body eager to be as wrapped up in the attention as you can. 

There’s something about this in particular that makes you feel pampered. Tucked away, safely. Zayne is familiar with the act of bending to your whims and your affirmed relationship has only made him more easily compelled. 

His free hand rests just above where your body longs to be touched. Deliberately above the navel, he slides over the softness of your belly. Traveling up slowly, his hand squeezes both sides of your chest. You can’t get enough air to say anything about how good it feels, so you whine instead - canting your hips to air for friction. Zayne laughs softly against your mouth. 

Less turned on, you think you would bicker with him about it. Turn your nose up at him for being so rude. Melted in his arms like lust liquified, you don’t know if you gave it in you. 

Deft fingers tweak your nipples underneath the thin fabric of your shirt. Zayne notices it for the first time touching you. He makes a face, faux disapproval causing his lip to curl.

“Wearing clothes like this with everything so visible. On top of your injury, you’ll get sick.” 

The words carry no weight or bite, playful at best. As if to prove a point, Zayne goes back over your clothes to touch them again. His thumb rubs across your hard nipples, your body shuddering from the rough texture at the fabric alongside Zayne’s fingers. He rubs them carefully, slowly. Pays attention to each one before settling on teasing the side more sensitive to the other. He knows the way to touch you, please  you down to the minutia. It makes you so wet you can hardly stand it. You squeeze your legs together with a frown. 

“I said spoil me. This is torture.” 

Your words are petulant even to your own ears. Zayne barely bites back a smile. 

“I wonder if your words about torture will hold up against your body if I touch you,” He kisses your temple to placate you, a hand at your waist to prove his point. “Patience,” 

“I can’t be patient,” You say, frowning. Zayne gives you an imperceptible look before leaning down, his voice close to your ear. 

“Should I help you then? Tell you how good it’ll feel if you sit through it obediently and allow me to have my way with you, hm? You like the sound of my voice right,” 

You let out a mewl. Zayne laughs. 

“Sit then, and wait for me to take care of you.” Zayne says gently. He kisses the corner of your mouth, trailing his kisses down to your jaw and neck. Bites so softly at the junction of your neck and shoulders, his voice a salve to your pent up lust. “Let me soothe the pain with pleasure.” 

You can’t be sure if it’s mercy or not, that your demands make Zayne more relentless in his fondling of your body. His hand doesn’t go further than your waistband. But they squeeze and grope all where he can reach. Cycling through hot, deep kisses that leave you breathless - toes curling up in fluffy socks unconsciously aching for more—and sweet, loving pecks to encourage you to put up with it a little longer. 

What keeps you tethered is the promise of pleasure, the assurance that Zayne always gives you what you ask for no matter how long or how much he may tease you until he does. It’ll be yours since you wanted it. 

You’ll manage to cum when he feels like it’s right. So you play into it. Beg sweetly in between sighs to touch you. Need you, need your hands, wanna feel even better. 

You like feeling Zayne get impatient, no matter how gradual or how slow. It never loses the thrill. The subtle gestures that his control is slipping away for you so slowly. Always worth the full brunt of your effort when you see his resolve slowly unravel - becoming sloppier in short doses. Sometimes, you get lucky enough to push him far enough and let go completely. 

“Spread your legs,” Zayne pants, desperate to get his hands on you. You do instinctually, gasping as soon as your swollen, throbbing clit brushes so lightly against his middle finger. His fingers are longer than yours - bigger and thicker. He rubs against your slit gently, feeling for how wet you are. It makes a noise as he slides through your folds, fingertip resting at your clit as he gives it a soft stroke. 

“Zayne,” You gasp his name. “Please,” 

No words follow your demand, but Zayne always makes good on his promises. Before you can think to whine again, he finds the spot that brings you pleasure the quickest and rubs soft circles into it. Steady pace paired with a complete understanding of the ins and outs of your body. Your pussy flutters in reply, whole body jolting from the contact. Pleasure seeps into you like the running flow of water, subtle but steady - the heat of your body melting the preciseness of Zayne’s ice. You feel a brief pain in your ribs, but its overwhelmed by the pleasure fizzling through you as Zayne rubs your clit in circular strokes. 

You rut against his hand, aching for more but Zayne keeps pace. 

You wonder how something can feel so different at the hands of someone else. How something you usually do alone and feel alright pleasure from can make you feel like this - like you’re burning from the inside when all he’s using is his hands. 

Zayne, sensing the buildup before you do, presses your mouths together again. He’s gentle this time but you’re desperate, a hand holding onto his face while you get nearer and nearer to cumming.

You know you’re on the edge when your muscles begin to tighten, mind rousing to the rush of dopamine and oxytocin. You pant his name sloppy as your mouth tests the syllables. Over and over and over as Zayne brings you to the peak. He’s quiet, laser focused on where his finger play with your needy pussy. Everything inside of you goes taut before you begin to unravel. Deep waves of rapture wash over you, from head to toe. Your cum spills, flows in thick sticky strands until you’re so wet you can feel it between your thighs and ass.

You take a shuddering breath upon your first release, trying to settle your mind through the aftershocks of powerful orgasm

You barely get a chance to breathe before you feel Zayne’s hand on your waist again. 

“You’ve a few more for me, right?” Zayne says, voice latent with unprecedented lust. You feel something hard pressing against your thighs, making you squirm. “Only once won’t be an effective treatment for a patient in so much pain.” 

You don’t get a chance to recover  your strength before you feel Zayne’s hands come down between your legs. Despite your efforts to run from it, Zayne holds you firm with his arm. Holds you in a way that won’t let you escape from it no matter how much you may try. B

efore you can finish riding your first high - the pads of his fingers find your clit once more. He goes to touch you indirectly, aware of your sensitivity and only heeding so much caution

The lack of direct friction is frustrating. Like he’s deliberately avoiding touching you where exactly you need while still making you feel good, a forceful staccato to an orgasm rather than a direct line to one. It feels good, it does— but it’s not enough. 

It makes you want more. With Zayne, you can’t be sure if its intentional or not. 

Your mind is too cloudy to speak to him, so you whine instead. Zayne has a talent for making you like that. Touching you in a way that renders your speech useless, forces you to lean on what you know. Leaves you nothing to ask him with except your body, your carnality, to get what you want. Everything you could possibly desire is yours if you shed your pride and ask. If you can’t ask, all you need to do is what you’re doing now—spread your legs and let him see just how much of a mess he makes you.  Zayne makes it easy for you. Fucks you in vulnerable, precise measures. He moves with the confidence necessary to wield a scalpel, uses it to take you apart perfectly before mending you to put together. 

No one knows how to build you up again how Zayne does. Who else is paying such close attention?

Your voice comes out shaking when you come around your second consecutive orgasm. The previous grogginess has been completely washed away, taken over by a stronger feeling of euphoria. Cumming again in such rapid succession blindsides you. Your mouth is fallen open. Silent, broken moans sound as the sensations starts to stir again in your core. Your belly is honeyed with lust - the muscles in your calves tensing hard as you thrash your legs around aiming not to lose your mind to the pleasure. Zayne is the only force keeping you upright in his arms and on his lap.

He tsks, half between sympathetic and teasing as you squeeze you thighs around his hand. “Stop squirming. You’ll hurt yourself. If your treatment proves to worsen your injuries and then we’ll have to stop—effective immediately.” 

Your voice comes out so unfamiliar and desperate, you barely know it as yours. “No, no, no don’t stop please, Zayne—”

“Then,” His voice is raspy against your ear, deeperer. Stained with lust. “Hold still and cum.” 

You force your body as still as possible at Zayne’s word. Your hands grip tight onto his shirt, stretching the material out with how hard you grip. You cry out as the knot inside of you untangles and frays.

 Zayne kisses you right as you get to the edge, forcing his tongue deep in your mouth to keep you from biting through your lip. You cum as soon as you feel your tongues touch, kissing deeply. 

You curl up this time in reaction to the gratification, your whole body folding in on itself. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing as you do, aching for something more. Like electricity sparking through the water, your pleasure is constant yet splintering. 

Pin-point accuracy leaves your mind completely muddled in the aftermath. When you manage to look up at Zayne, desire mixed with longing and affection puff up in your chest. It’s the way he looks down at you in the afterglow. Such sharp, intense eyes and strong features. Almost shattered, ruined with a restrained lust. Despite himself, despite being at his mercy, despite being weakened from healing wounds - Zayne holds you gentle. Puts you first even at odds with himself. 

You crane your neck up half tired to kiss him first. It’s nauseatingly gentle but doesn’t do enough to express your feelings. A mix of gratitude and compliance founded in mutual trust. You want to give yourself to him over and over and over - enough to wash away his worries. At the same time, you want him to want you so madly he abandons his usual restraint. 

Ultimately, your mind settles on the desire to make him feel good in whatever way you possibly can. You rub deliberately against the hard-on pressed against your thigh. Mellowed from cumming twice, you speak your thoughts frankly. 

“Fuck me.” 

He shakes his head. “You’ll really aggravate your injuries that way. I’d …. like too but I—” 

“Zayne,” You repeat, serious. “Fuck me, please.” 

He’s silent for a moment, eyes closed. 

“Want you to make me cum again,” You say, then add. “Wanna cum while you’re inside of me.” 

“You—” He takes in a sharp breath. “You can really be so—” 

“Zayne,” 

“Don’t call my name like that,” Zayne says on a sigh, rubbing your lower lip. “I’ve already conceded. Quit your pouting.” 

You smile at him, eyes wet with sincere joy. He lets out a strangled groan, followed by a sigh. “Given your injuries, you being on top would be best as to not cause anymore pain to you. Move gently.” 

“Will you help?” 

Zayne nods at you. “You don’t have to ask.” 

As promised, his touch is gentle as he takes you off his lap. His hands and arms give the necessary support to keep from further agitating your wounds- supporting your spine to ease yourself onto his strong lap with. It’s a wide fit to get your thighs over his lap but Zayne takes precaution.

Zayne pushes you to stand on your knees while you straddle him. He makes you lean on one side of him, your torso resting on one of his shoulders while you’re pressed slightly against the headboard. Uncertain of what he’s doing, you yelp in surprise when you feel his hands slide between your legs. One on your hips, securing you - the other one teasing your slit. 

“It’ll hurt if I put it in right away.” He clarifies. 

“I can take it.”

Zayne is quiet at that, choosing to ignore both your whining and the soft sway of your hips in a poor attempt to get him to fuck you quicker. Meticulously, Zayne slips his fingers into his mouth covering them with saliva first, before drawing them through the mess of slick between your thighs. Making his digits as wet as possible, he rubs your pussy until he finds your tight hole. You can feel your cunt pulse at the contact, taking in a soft breath as he eases the first finger inside of you. They’re thick. Thicker than yours by enough that you can feel some resistance as he works just his middle finger into you slowly. Patiently fucking it in and out until he’s all the way down to knuckle. 

When it’s easy to fuck you on one, he adds another - repeating the process until both fingers fit inside of you easily. The stretch leaves your breath hitching, thighs trembling slightly in anticipation. 

“One more should be—” 

“No,” You say immediately. “It’s enough already.” 

“You know very well it’s not.” 

“I can take it,” You coax, sitting back down properly onto Zayne’s lap, half naked. You rub yourself over the strained fabric of his sweats, wetting them with your own arousal. You’re pleased when you notice his own pre-cum staining them too. “Zayne.” 

Rubbing his temple, he holds you by your hips. You wrap your arms haphazardly around his neck as he casts his eyes towards you. Holding his gaze, you frown—face flush and lips pouty. He sighs, a noise of discontent slipping as his hands reach back and squeeze your ass - drawing you even closer to him. He closes his eyes, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“What good is it taking such good care of your body as your physician when you’re so quick to throw it away in front of me, hm?” Zayne scolds half-heartedtly. You smile at him sheepishly, your eyes meeting. 

 He gives you a look, silent, encouraging you to take what you need first. 

Your hands are shaky as they reach the front of Zayne’s waistband, tugging until they slide down his thighs - along with his boxers in one smooth motion. Your thighs pressed together at the now familiar sight of his cock. Your thighs weaken at the sight of it, impressive length and girth - curved just right and too heavy to stand on its own. You reach out to touch it, a soft stroke to feel how hard it gets. It makes you gasp, feeling how it throbs between your fingers. Zayne suppresses a groan as your palm smooths over the tip. 

“Have you changed your mind?” 

You shake your head rapidly. Zayne lets out a breathless sigh against your collar bone. 

“Stubborn thing you are.” 

“Zayne,”  You peek at him through your lashes. “Can I?” 

He holds you close to him, careful not to grip you too hard. “Slowly.” 

You nod your head, pulling yourself forward on his lap to line the tip of his cock with your entrance. 

A long, shaky breath leaves your lips as you feel the tip of his cock slip against your folds. Adjusting to be sitting up a little more, you ease yourself down on Zayne’s hard length. You feel your pussy flutter in anticipation of being full. Placing our hands on Zayne’s shoulders, you ever so slowly slide yourself down on his cock. 

You both take a sharp inhale as the head of Zayne’s cock stretches your cunt open wide. Just the head is overwhelming, your thighs trembling as you do your best to take all of him inside of you. Your voice tremble, working yourself down inch by inch - desperately trying to adjust. His cock is big, too big - always more than you remember it being. You feel it up to your throat. 

So focused on taking it, you nearly miss the sounds leaving Zayne’s mouth each time you manage to take a little more of him. His voice is trembling, hot against your skin as he muffles each groan and sigh into your shoulder. His hands are tight with restraint as he holds you, trying his best to hold himself together. 

It takes you a beat or two. Long, restrained moments of silence before your body finally takes it. You moan as you bottom out, cock stretching your needy pussy out completely. You stay like that for even longer, longer than you would normally. 

“Aren’t going to move?” 

You give Zayne a look. “I don’t know if it’s possible.” 

“Spoiled girl.” Zayne tsks. 

Wordlessly, he uses his strength to slide you off of his cock in one go. Whining at the sudden feeling of loss - he fucks you back onto him. Carefully placing his hands on the most unmarred parts of your hips, Zayne fucks you on his cock with the same ease of a toy. 

After a few thrusts, your body adjusts to the feeling. You can feel the specific motion when it goes from a dull ache to a dull feeling of pleasure. Your waist goes completely weak in Zayne’s grasp as he fucks his cock up into you with controlled movements. Undulating just enough to make you gasp. Practiced with the full weight and gravity of his hips - but painstakingly measured so that it doesn’t hurt. It’s not slow, or fast - but a rhythmic inbetween that makes it hard for your mind to keep up.

If there was such a thing as getting fucked perfectly, you think Zayne is fulfilling it by all measures. 

The way he’s fucking the warm, slick heat of your cunt feels good beyond word. It’s relentlessly consistent,  head sliding against your sweet spot with ease. Precision guides his thrusts like it does everything else. Euphoria suffuses through your limbs as you get yourself fucked open on it.

The sound of his echoes in the room as Zayne keeps pace. You’re moaning loud now, shameless as the sensation builds and builds and builds but never quite hits its peak. You feel so full, but you need something else to get yo over the edge. 

“You want to cum like this, didn’t you?” Zayne says, matter-of-fact despite the level of calm in his voice.  His face betrays the composure in his voice. “Touch yourself. Make yourself cum in front of me.” 

Shakily, your hand finds itself between your bodies.You find your swollen clit for the last time and carefully rub between your fingers. It makes you gasp outright, nearly falling forward from the impact. Pleasure no longer plateauing, something bounds again inside of you. 

You can feel it coming this time. On the edge from the minute Zayne started fucking you to now, your body has been winding itself tighter and tighter until a knot formed right in the swell of your belly again. There’s something about this one that feels so much deeper then when you came before, something more overwhelming to it. He fucks you in places you could never reach, makes you cum like that too. 

You throw your head back noisily when you finally match your fingers to Zayne’s throat. 

“Fuck,” You hiss, trying your best not to lose the feeling. “Zayne, g-gonna—” 

Zaynes voice borders on a growl. “Cum for me.” 

One last time, your body finds release as Zayne holds you down on his cock and grinds into your g-spot while you cum again. Your nails dig into Zayne’s shoulders, holding onto him for life as your body wracks with shivers once more. Your last orgasm is the most overwhelming, the aftershocks feel like they last for minutes at a time instead of a seconds. 

Zayne cums quickly after you, panting into your neck like he’d been waiting the entire time for you  to cum first before finishing. You feel content as his seed spills into your pussy for the last time. 

A beat of silence passes between you before you speak again, 

“Thank you for the medicine doc,” You hum. “I feel all better.” 

Zayne simply goes along with you like alwys. “It’s what I’m here for.” 

__

After getting fucked good enough to knock out only a few moments after you came a third time, you aren’t exactly sure where or how you were going to wake up. 

When you do wake up though, your bruised and battered body - while still in dull pain, is being cradled by someone else. You feel clean too. Your clothes are changed and your skin is cool to the touch like someone’s been wiping you down and keeping an eye on you. 

Yawning, you open your eyes to the familiar sight of your partner. Zayne glances down at you without word. You feel his arm around your waist like a secure weight, tucking yourself into him.

Zayne’s first question is predictable. “How are you feeling, love?” 

Your heart flutters clumsily at the overt tenderness. “...Hurts a lot. It’s bearable though.” 

Zayne laughs as he notices your attitude. “What happened the my bold lover from a few hours ago? So bold she invited me to bed without hesitation?” 

Your face feels hot, warmth tingling from your ears down to your neck. “I was doped on a lot of narcotics so somehow… and sex is different from this you know?” 

“This…?” 

“Acting like a proper boyfriend when you’re always so…” You trail off. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?” 

“Are you saying I’m usually an improper boyfriend?” 

“Yes,” You say flatly, though you dont really mean it. Zayne chuckles. “At least you’re less…” 

“Kind? Honest?” 

“Playful,” You reply. Shy, you bury your face in his shirt. “You’re not honest but you’re always kind. You’re in too good of a mood.” 

“Will you be more comfortable if I act as usual?” 

You wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him gently. “This side of you isn’t so bad either.” 

“I’m spoiling my very unruly patient.” He hums. He leans down, a hand cradling the back of your head as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “So listen well to doctors orders and rest a bit longer. We’ll have dinner together in a bit so just rest.” 

As if caught by a spell, the mention of rest against has your eyes feeling heavy. You nod without thinking about it. 

“Hm… ‘kay,” You mumble. “Thank you… for taking care of me….” 

Zayne waits a beat or two before pressing another kiss to your temple, waiting for your breathing to even before he speaks. 

“As if it’s something to thank me for,” 

[killergee]

Part 3! Sorry for the late update, but here's the last part, my friends. I had no idea what to do, so I fell into a good old trope. Slight nsfw, but it’s mainly just Hoshina and his dirty mind, hehe. Oh, and some kissing.

Summary: Angry, frustrated, jealous, and trapped in an elevator. Who will crack first?

P1 P2 P3

Tagslist: @surprisemodafakas @yrxhyes @voidsatoru @vash-yuu @er0ssu @rosesandquartzz

---------------------------

Hoshina knew he was the only one at fault for testing his own patience, but God was he so sure he was going to explode if things continued like this.

He wanted you to be the one to take the final step and cross the distance. He wanted to see you want him like you said you did so many months ago. To see that passion for him once again.

That didn’t mean he waited around for you to confess, though. No, he didn’t hold back when it came to you.

If anything, he became greedy when it came to you.

Hoshina didn't know how he survived before, now knowing what your touch felt like. It felt like fire on his skin. One that left a burning desire that he only knew to quell by grasping at you for more. Yet, even then, it wasn't enough. You always left him wanting more. You left him clinging to what was left of his sensibilities to not take you there and then. Hoshina thinks he must be a masochist because of how he kept pushing for more, knowing you'll reject him or that he'll have to stop himself before he goes too far and ruins everything.

Yet, when you did accept his affections, the feeling was unparalleled. When you did reciprocate, it made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It made him feel a different type of warmth, a different sense of fulfillment. One that told him it was worth it to keep trying.

So, he gave in to his desires again and again and again. As long as he doesn't straight-up confess, he still has a shot at making you take action. Right?

Hoshina groans as he finishes another one of his reports. Mina has been working him to the bone lately. Taking him out of sessions to work on mission plans, interrupting him mid lunch to accompany her to meetings, even going as far as interrupting his midnight training sessions with you to ask for his opinion on the production of a new weapon. Hoshina swears he’s barely seen you for the last two weeks because of this. To say he was a bit annoyed would be an understatement. Especially since because of his busy nature, Mina delegated his tasks to you to handle. Tasks that included working with his unit.

Now, this normally wouldn’t be a problem if Kafka hadn’t taken such a liking to you. Hoshina should’ve known Kafka would like you after he overheard your conversation with him the first time. While trapped in his office, it takes all his efforts to not jump out the window and tell Kafka to take a step back from you. He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, stress, or withdrawal from your presence, but he felt absurdly angry at seeing you being so friendly with Kafka. Hell, even seeing you laughing with his unit left a bitter taste in his mouth.

While you and his unit seemed to be getting closer, you and Hoshina haven’t made any progress at all since that night. Hoshina felt frustrated on so many different levels and mixed with the pressure to not disappoint his superior, Hoshina was so wired he could barely sit still. He nearly snapped his pen in half just thinking about it.

He either needed to train or fuck this out of his system.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything. The words on the paper in front of him were starting to blur, and he was seconds away from writing “because this is stupid” as his rationale for rejecting proposals.

Looking up at the clock and seeing the hand tick closer to 2am, he groans into his hands and decides that the responsible choice would be to go to sleep and pray that tomorrow never came.

Putting on his jacket, he barely gives his desk a second glance as he leaves to lock the office door. Once in the elevator, he pushes the button to the fourth floor and immediately slumps against the railing on the wall of the elevator. With his hundredth sigh of the day, he tries to think on the brighter side. Since no one would be up at this god forsaken hour, he didn’t need to wait for the elevator to open on every floor.

When the elevator stops, Hoshina rolls his eyes at his luck. Looking up at the ceiling and exhaling, he doesn’t bother to acknowledge the person entering the elevator.

It wasn’t until he heard the familiar click of your tongue does he snap his head down to see you standing beside him.

There you were.

Standing with your arms crossed and staring at the doors of the elevator as if they’ve wronged you. The object of his affections and his frustrations. The person he was craving most at the moment.

Seeing you in the flesh again, skin pink probably from showering, shirt unbuttoned a little too low combined with the scent of your faded shampoo wafting through the elevator…

Fuck it, the training room will have to do, Hoshina decides, quickly leaning forward to press the button to the second floor. He can feel the weird look you’re giving him, but he decides for both of your sakes he’s going to keep looking at the doors. God, he couldn’t believe your presence alone was doing it for him. He needed out now.

But, unfortunately for him, the world continued to ignore his wishes. With a slight tremble, the elevator slows in its tracks until it abruptly stops. Not being able to believe his luck, it wasn’t until the lights began to dim that he lets out a curse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hears you say as you immediately dig into your pocket to get your phone. Pressing the help button on the elevator, he waits for you to finish your call with security. With the way you were scowling, he knew the news couldn’t be good. With it also being so late, he doubts anyone would come rescue you guys any time soon.

“Yea sure, we can have super suits and high-tech weapons, but god forbid we have a working elevator” you mumble sarcastically after hanging up the phone. Barely looking at him, you announce, “they said they’ll have it fixed within an hour.”

“That’s fucking great,” Hoshina groans, massaging his temples with one hand as he curses whatever god fucking with him right now. Finally turning to look at you, he notices how far you were from him. You were practically squishing yourself into the corner of the elevator to distance yourself. With the night taking away his patience, he comments without any restraint. "Now what’s got ya so pissed off?”

You turn to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said what’s got ya so mad ya can’t even stand to be in the same space as me,” Hoshina scoffs, adding fuel to the flames. “Scared I got cooties? A little too late for that, I’m sure.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You hiss, anger rolling off you. The piercing glare you sent his way satisfied him in a twisted way he couldn’t understand. He’ll blame the adrenaline and the frustration.

“What are you even doing here so late? Ah, sneaking out from the Captain’s room, I’m sure." You spit venomously, mocking his phrasing. "Wasn’t satisfied enough, so you’re coming to me?”

“Now what the hell are ya going on about?”

Your eyes narrow a fraction more. “Oh sorry, Vice-Captain. Did I hit a nerve? Sad that the Captain didn’t like you enough to let you stay the night?”

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re lucky no one else is here to hear you say that. If ya weren’t you, I’d have you punished for talking about Min- Captain Ashiro like that.” Shit, he was losing his grip.

You let out a hollow chuckle devoid of any humour. “No, no, you don’t need to correct yourself like that in front of me, Vice-Captain. I won’t tell anyone,” you say, drawing out the syllables of his title.

“Don’t call me that, y/n,” he growls. “Nothing is going on betwe-”

“You think I’m fucking stupid? Everything you’ve done to me. The late night training sessions, 'working' together on reports, having lunch together, everything that we’ve done together you’re now off doing it with her.” You continue, your voice getting more heated with every word. “Her interrupting us again and again, you think I can’t take a fucking hint? I know my place now, so you don’t need to worry about anything.”  

“Y/n, it’s nothing like that. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t b-”

His explanation falls on deaf ears as you continue your angry rant. “You know what? Kafka was right.”

Heart stopping, the flash of heat Hoshina felt throughout his body broke the dam holding the last bits of his sanity. “What’s Kafka got to do with anything?”

“Kafka noticed how you two were always together for the last couple of weeks. I told him it was nothing, but I guess I owe him an apology. I’d hate to see the look on his face when I tell him.”

“Ya seriously trusting Kafka over me?”

“I mean, why not? He’s trustworthy, he’s kind, he’s reliable-”

Hoshina lets out a hostile scoff, “Oh, and I’m not?”

“He’s never touched me and then gone off and-”

“He’s never what?” Hoshina pushes off the wall, making his way into your corner. “He better not touch you the way I do. And even if he did," his eyes gleam in a dangerous manner, "he'll never be able to make you feel the way I make you feel.”

Hoshina's tone is strong and sure. “Stop talking about that damn brat and listen. Nothing is going on between me and the Captain. I do not like her like that and I can promise you I never will.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you hesitate. But you need his words. You need solid proof that he feels the same need for you that you do for him—so you push on anyway. “How can I be sure? How can I trust you?”

Not one to backdown, you meet him in the middle before he could completely corner you. With your finger to his chest, Hoshina takes a step back. His attempt to put space between you doesn't deter you as you push forward. In fact, it emboldens you to press on until his back hits the wall and your as nose to nose as you possibly can with your height difference.

Hoshina couldn’t think straight. The only thing he hears from you is jealousy, and it's going straight down to his dick. The feel of your body on his, the heat of the argument, the intensity of your glare, he was about to snap. "Please don't do that," Hoshina hisses.

“Where’s all the heat from before? Answer my question."

"Y/n." 

The sternness of his voice makes you falter. 

His hands raise slightly in a sign of surrender. "Don't touch me if you're not willing to take responsibility for your actions." He says in a teasing voice, but even you could hear the strain in them. 

“What are you talking about.”

“If ya touch me now, I can’t promise ya that I’ll be a gentleman about it.” As if warning you about what's to come, Hoshina brings his hands down onto your hips, pulling you close until your hips press against his. His actions evoke a different kind of heat than your argument.

“How could I ever want anyone else when you’re the only one who’s always on my mind. You think everything I’ve done to ya up to this point was casual? That I was only teasing ya for fun?”

“Ya want proof? Fine.” He brings your hand to rest over his chest, his heart beating wildly at your touch. To lay it all down on the table, to bare his soul to you, he'll do it all if it means even the slightest chance you'll accept him.

"Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to move away, to not touch you, to not love you, and I will never bother you again." He grits through his teeth. "God, tell me now so I can stop myself before it's too late." Maybe it already was, but he won't tell you that. 

At your silence, his heart plummets. Hoshina lets go of your hand. “Sorry-”

"Kiss me, asshole." 

"I- what?"

"Fine, I'll do it myself." You grab the back of his head and pull him towards you, lips crashing into his in a passionate fury.

After a beat, Hoshina hungrily returns your passion. His hands back onto your body with a fervor. The kiss was heated. It tasted like frustration, anger, jealousy and want. It was exhilarating and intoxicating and Hoshina didn’t want it to end.

Breaking the kiss for air, the intensity of your gaze sends a delightful shiver up his spine. "You drive me insane, you know that? Getting off on teasing me and then trynna back away when you finally got the chance to do something, to do anything. Do I need to spell it out for you? I want you. I want you all for myself." you say, grabbing a handful of his hair with a strength that was bordering the line between painful and amazing. 

"Take responsibility? Talk about your fucking self. You've ruined me for anyone else. Do something about it."

“Yes ma’am.” Without hesitation, Hoshina dives back in for a kiss, and all that could be felt was lips on lips and the sting of teeth.

Hands grasping at every inch of your skin, he turns you and pushes you against the wall of the elevator. Lips moving from yours to your neck, his hand hungrily tugs at the top of your shirt. Unable to control his strength, the button pops, but your gasp is replaced by a moan as he bites into the expanse of your neck.

Motivated by the sounds you make, Hoshina snakes his arm behind your back—pressing your body against his in an almost suffocating manner. Blinded by his eagerness, he didn’t notice the lights turning back on and the elevator running again. It's not until the doors ding open, and you push him away does he finally come back to his senses.

Moving away from him, you use your hand to clasp at the top of your shirt—trying to replicate the security of the button he ripped off. You have half the mind to yell at him, but the smugness in his smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Satisfaction reeked from his body, and his cat-like eyes raking over yours made your knees weak.

The next time the doors open, he takes your hand in his and leads you out. "This isn't my floor," you say face flushed as you knew where he was heading.

"Yep, it's mine," he replies with uncontainable excitement.

He turns his head to glance back at you. “If I knew all it took for ya to confess was to trap ya in an elevator with me, I would’ve done this much sooner.” Hoshina says with a cheeky grin, hand gripping yours in a way that said you weren’t leaving him any time soon.

You roll your eyes, but you continue to follow him anyways. A small smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable.”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

It wasn’t over, it still isn’t over. (Bandit cowboy! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader) Part 2

Wake up babe, new cowboy Miguel fic just dropped! This part was heavily inspired by the notebook. Period pieces are not my strong suit so apologizes if it’s not good. Not proofread, enjoy!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, mentions/usage of alcohol, attempted robbery/theft, mentions of guns, Miguel jokes about manhandling you but nothing actually happens, mentions of sexual acts, but nothing happens.

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1

Masterlist

—

Five years.

Five years since you had last seen the cowboy who had stolen your heart.

You had graduated college and moved out of your parents home, moving a few towns over, nowhere near a big city like you lived in during your youth in the East but a lot larger than the one you had lived during the whole Miguel incident. You lived in a nice home, gotten a job as a teacher for the younger kids in town and… you were recently engaged.

Your fiancé was a nice man, sweet, understanding, kind, easy on the eyes, you liked him a lot, the only problem is, you didn’t love him. You should feel bad about getting married to a wealthy man who you didn’t even see as more than of a friend, but at the same time, your mother thought it would be best to marry you off to her friend’s son that just so happened to be inheriting his father’s liquor business when he settled down. It was a marriage of convenience if anything, at least he was polite with you despite neither you or him having any romantic feelings, if anything it made the whole thing a bit easier for you. Growing content with the fact that this would turn into your future children’s definition of love.

Five years to grow from a silly lovestruck teenager into a young woman with responsibilities and a bright future ahead of her, and you still thought about him. You can't help but frantically Miguel’s name under the obituary section of the town’s paper, unknowingly breathing a sigh of relief when his name wouldn’t appear. Although it was foolish, and despite no longer living in the same small town as your parents, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter at the fact he hasn’t found you yet. Was he even attempting to look for you? With a reputation like his, you’re certain you weren’t the first girl he’s charmed to get under his sheets… or in your case, jail cell. So, eventually, you stopped hoping, if he hadn’t found you during the last five years, he surely wasn’t looking. Why should you?

—

“Darling.” Your fiancé, Austin, called out for you before rounding the corner that connected the living room into the kitchen. You hummed in response as you kept your eyes on the stack of papers you were currently grading for your students, a pen in your dominant hand as your free one tapped a mindless tone to help keep you concentrated. “Put the papers down and take a break will you? You’ve got all week to grade those tests.” You let out a huff and a whine as you put the pen down, he was right. Your eyes keep unfocusing and your wrist was being to grow sore, making your fiancé tsk. “I don’t understand why you don’t just quit, I make enough to support us both.”

“I should,shouldn't I…” You contimplacted with a weary chuckle, and although your tone was joking, you were seriously considering it. You adored your students with all your heart, you really did. But the school was putting so much pressure on you because they refused to hire another teacher to help lessen your workload. So you and two other teachers were juggling a handful of 300 seven year olds, it was a lot… to say the least. You picked yourself up from your seat to stretch your body out, before turning to Austin. “Now was that all you came to tell me?” You asked in a playful tone.

“No, actually… I came to ask for a favor.” He admitted, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Ya know I’ve got that… liquor convention event out of town this weekend, right?” You nodded in confirmation, “well, I was wondering if you could do me the favor of just checking in on my office while I’m gone. I’ve heard a lot about break ins and whatnot during these times, just drop by for a few minutes for the 4 days that I’ll be gone.”

You tapped the nonsensical rhythm again as you thought about it, it wasn’t too much of an ask, you’d just drop by for a few minutes a day, you shrugged. “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

—

Saturday afternoon, your first day off and your third alone. Grateful for the ability to sleep in and being about to eat a well rounded breakfast. After doing your usual morning routine, and having changed into one of your simpler dresses to go out and run some errands for the day.

Gone out to get groceries, send out a letter to your parents, went to the tailors to drop off some Austin’s shirts to be hemmed since you didn’t feel like sitting down all to do it yourself, even finished grading the last of the test all before noon ended. After tidying up your work from its usual spot from the kitchen table, you made yourself a quick lunch and went to read a few chapters of your book on the couch. Only to end up falling asleep, and once you woke up, you glanced at the clock-shit.

“It’s half past five?! I was supposed to go to his office an hour ago!” You yelled to no one but yourself as you quickly got up from your spot on the couch, fixing your hair quickly as you threw on your coat, and made your way back out the door.

—

“I told ya boys this heist would be easy… if we leave by dusk we could hit up that train that passes by el dorado tomorrow evening…” Miguel chuckled as he tossed his now full bag of valuables to his brother, who then passed it over Peter would load it to one of their horses that they had waiting for them around the back of the building.

After that night he had escaped, it took him about a month to find his partners in crime, following their trail through stolen newspapers from random porches and the knowledge of how their usual trail was, luckily they had kept his horse safe and well taken care of too.

“One more bag then we’re as good as gone.” Miguel said with a smirk, making Gabriel Let out a laugh and a clap. Right when Miguel was going to prep the last bag, the faint noise of rushing made all three men stop in their tracks. Before he sent his younger brother a glare and he hissed in a low tone through his teeth. “Pinche cabrón- I thought you said this place would be empty all weekend.” (Fucking dumbass)

“I thought it would!” He whispered-shouted back, before they heard the door creak open.

“Fuck-okay… um, go check if it’s the sheriff.” He quietly ordered Gabriel, before turning to Peter, “Get the horses ready incase we needa’ book It.” With a nob both males did as told, as Miguel quickly went to pack the last bag.

When his younger brother entered the front room, he swore he heard him mutter the words “hello pretty lady” before the muffle sound of rustling and some high-pitched yelping, but never was a shot fired, so clearly it couldn’t have been someone to play an immediate threat. Just as he was finishing tying up the bag, Gabriel came back into the room, but not alone.

“Look at what I found, it must be his little wife.” He said almost mockingly as he hazardly pulled you into the room and pushed you into the room in front of Miguel’s feet, but with your face being tilted down as you caught yourself from falling face first onto the wooden floor.

“Careful!” You yelled as you try to collect yourself, once you get yourself to look up at the bandit you were dropped in front of, your scowl immediately turned into once of disbelief, and it seems his expression matched yours.

You both seem to have froze up in time as you both did nothing but stare at each other, Gabriel just crossed his arms and raised a brow, Peter came jogging in to inform his friends the horses are ready when he saw the odd scene, opting to keep his mouth shut.

Finally, you came back to life as you blinked, as if expecting his to disappear right before your very eyes again, and when he didn’t, you finally whispered a faint. “…Miguel?”

“…(Y/N)…” You nodded your head, despite it not being a question, and he cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact with you as he spoke his next orders to Peter and Gabriel. “Unload all that shit and put it back.”

—

He had told Gabriel and Peter to go on to do the train heist without him, and that he'd meet up with them afterwards. Saying he had “unattended business to take care of”. So now here he was, in your kitchen, only being lightened up by a few candles as darkness overtook the sky. Both of you sharing drunken giggles over dinner. Miguel’s black cowboy hat that was certainly too big for you sitting on top of your head as you sip on your beer.

“That hat looks adorable on you.” Miguel chuckled, making you shake your head with a giggle, your free hand going to rest on top of the hat to help keep it stabilized.

“It’s so big!” You countered as you take the hat off and went to hand it back to Miguel, who grabs it and sets it back on his head.

“You know you shouldn’t be wearing just anyone’s hat. Ya know what they say about wearing a man’s cowboy hat.” He joked as he put down his now empty bottle, chuckling when he saw your face contour in confusion.

“What do they say?” You asked curiously, making Miguel’s smirk widen.

“Wear the hat…” he tapped the brim on the hat for emphasis, “Ride the cowboy.” He finished, making you gasp dramatically.

“Miguel! That’s inappropriate!” You pretended to be offended, but you couldn’t help but crack a smile near the end of you reprimanding him.

“Oh please, you act like you haven’t before, why not again? Unless you want me to come over then and manhandle you.” He was only joking of course, he may have been a thief and a murderer but he’d never hurt a woman, especially not you. You let out a faux gasp, playing along as your right hand goes to your chest for emphasis.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m a married woman.” You said in a softer tone, going to sip your bottle to finish it off. You haven’t really told him you were going to be getting married soon, even though he knew you were in a relationship, he didn’t quite know how serious it was.

“Not yet.” He replied almost immediately, shaking his head as his playful tone dropped to a more serious yet still gentle tone. The soft smile stays on his lips but it didn’t meet his eyes anymore when you raised your hand to show off the silver band that decorates your ring finger, the diamond shining even only in the candlelight. It took you a moment too long to realize this.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, the start of a giggle comes out with your words but they quickly die down in your throat as the once playful atmosphere starts to turn more serious.Miguel just shakes his head as a hand goes to rub at his chin.

“Nothing nothing… just didn’t think you’d ever get married… thought what we had was something real.” He admitted, eyes casted downwards as he goes to fidget with a bent half beer bottle cap. You let out a scoff, offended by his words.

“Don’t try and think I just forgot about you the moment my father dragged me out of that door,” your brows furrowed and your arms crossed on the wooden table as you started to chastise him, “I was stuck on you for five years Miguel. Five. Years.” You emphasized the two words with taps on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, Austin is a great guy, but it was my parents' idea for me to marry him. They thought it was a good way to get me to stop thinking about you-“ You shouldn’t be admitting that outloud but the buzz made your mind hazy.

“Do you love him?” He interrupted you, eyes burning into yours, those same intense eyes you had dreamed about as you slept, you had to look away.

“It’s not that simple Miguel-“

“But it is.” He insisted, standing up from his seat, the chair screeching as it tried not to topple over. “You either love him or you don’t.”

“I’m not doing this with you Miguel.” You shook your head as you stood as well, going to clean up the mess you two had made, trying to erase any evidence you two were there.

“Too bad, I’m not just gonna drop this and let you disappear from my life, I’m not losing you again.” He declared, you weren’t going to justify his admission with a response, but as you go to pick up a few empty bottles, they slip from your hands, cracking into hundreds of small shreds as Miguel’s hands turn you around to face him. A shocked gasp begins to leave your lips before it is quickly swallowed up by his. You know you should push him off, but you couldn’t help but melt underneath his touch.

Miguel O’Hara was a criminal, a thief of many things and no matter how much you try to stop him, he’ll always find a way to steal your heart all over again.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @xevita @marshhbs @inlovewithpandora @vera4luv @mcmiracles @eddieslooneymoonie @to-the-endoftheline

[mrsriddlenott]

~ Oh, It’s You ~

<<Prev TWO Next>>

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Ex-Sneaky Link!JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

This is an AU set 1 year after s4 however canon plot points won’t really be mentioned.

After months of hooking up with JJ in secret, you both began developing deep feelings for each other, but when his friends, Kie especially, learn of your relationship and plot on it’s downfall JJ leaves you reeling and confused as he enters a relationship with his best friend leaving you to wonder what you did to push him away so quickly. Unbeknownst to you however. the blonde was struggling more than he let on, wanting nothing more than to go his own path but feeling trapped with those who used to make him feel free. The only person he can think of now that makes him feel as open as he once did is….you.

Warnings: Emotional cheating(flirting), ooc Kie for plot, angst, confusion, pressure, and fighting.

~~~~

Jay Nobody climbed in ur window after i left right?

Your chest clenches when you see his name on your phone screen again, it had only been an hour since he left and you had reprimanded yourself for thinking about him a dozen times as you got ready for work. You doubted if you should even respond, it didn’t feel like a good idea but you couldn’t stop yourself, quickly typing out a short response before silencing his contact and shoving your phone back into your pocket.

Y/N🤫💛 Nope. Window is locked and secure.

JJ loved seeing your name on his phone again after over a month without it, he hadn’t even changed your contact despite the fact that he probably should have. He couldn’t suppress his smile as he texted you back almost immediately, pulling his phone closer to him, side eyeing John B on his right.

What r u doin today? Delivered

JJ stared at the word “Delivered” as he swiped up on his screen obsessively, biting the inside of his cheek worse with each second that went by without a response. Fuck, JJ thought as he realized how desperate he seemed for a scrap of your attention. The sound of Kie’s voice sent a chill down his spine, a shot of guilt hitting his heart as he exited the conversation with a sigh and desperately tried for the millionth time to get you off his mind.

He never could though, and he hated himself for it. How could he just forget someone like you just because his friends didn’t like you?

“Hey Kie,” John B spoke as JJ tried to look normal, he hated this feeling. Like he was a betrayer, he didn’t want to hurt anyone ever. But he never wanted this to happen in the first place. This was the expectation placed on him, everyone always thought it would be him and Kie. Hell, he thought it would be for a very long time. But if it was so right why did it feel like he was lying to everyone he cared about whenever he talked about you or Kie.

“Hey Kie,” JJ mimicked as she sat down on the other side of him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and taking the opportunity to whisper in his ear that he looked great. “I know I do.“ JJ smirked, swinging an arm around her, trying to ignore the tug at his heart that was you.

He should not have texted you. He knew that for sure.

~~~~

Your mind raced every second you were at work, almost not able to focus with JJ popping in your head just about every second at this point. But you stayed strong and stayed off your phone, knowing you would immediately check his contact despite your better judgment. You sat behind the medium sized wooden desk beside your boss’ office, obsessively clicking your pen as you tried to keep your eyes from drifting to the clock in front of you. You agreed you wouldn’t let yourself check his contact until your work day was up. Which you thought would help keep your mind off of his perfect blue eyes, and his toned chest, and the way he would always smirk at you when he was thinking the exact same thing as you.

Key word being thought.

You’re jolted out of your JJ centric trance at the sound of your work phone ringing, sighing as you prepared your voice to answer the call. You decided to apply for a summer job to help your mother with the bills after your father left the second you turned 18 two years ago and somehow it just stuck. You knew she could handle them but you had both grown accustomed to a certain level of luxury and you felt she still deserved that, even if it meant spending a little while as a, surprisingly nice, rich guy’s secretary.

You knocked on the solid wood of your boss’ office door, waiting patiently for a response before hearing his gruff voice tell you to come in. “Your 2:30 called to cancel Sir, I had to reschedule it for a week from now. It was the only time that worked with both your schedules.”

Your boss sighed as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses, tired irises meeting yours before falling back to the paper in front of him, “Thank you Miss Y/L/N,” He said, clearly annoyed but not at you, taking a quick glance at the clock before tossing his pen down and reaching to remove his glasses with the same hand as he relaxed in his office chair, “You can probably take the rest of the day off, send a message to my wife to let her know I’ll be home early on your way out please and have a good weekend.”

“Thank you Mr.Barnes, you have a good weekend too Sir.” You stated with a smile before silently slipping out of his office, typing out a quick message to Mrs.Barnes just as your boss asked before grabbing your bag and readying yourself to leave. You quickly find your phone in your bag, not wasting a second to open Messages to see JJ had in fact texted you. You never got off early, Mr.Barnes was always so busy that you were in turn just as busy if not more busy. So you took it as a sign from the world to unsilence JJ’s contact and just get over with it and text him back.

Sorry Jay, I was at work all day.

Your thumb hesitates over the send button before adding, Other than that I don’t have any plans but staying in my room. Don’t worry though my window is still locked.

You giggled as you pressed send while continuing your walk to your car. You weren’t surprised that you didn’t immediately get a response after leaving him on delivered almost all day but you scolded yourself as you drove home, music uninterrupted by a notification. Now that you thought of it your text seemed overly flirty for the circumstances at hand, he must think you’re ridiculously desperate. You thought as you tugged open your door, slipping off your shoes and trudging up to your bedroom.

“Fuck.” You breath while you stare at your ceiling, the scent of JJ still lingering slightly in your room as your eyes find the blanket and pillow he used the night before. You close your eyes tight with a sigh, “Desperate. Desperate. Desp-“

The sound of your phone snaps your eyes open, silencing you as you slowly look to your screen as it pings again. You contemplate waiting, making yourself seem less eager to get a message but you ultimately fail.

Jay Could that window be unlocked for me

Jay I’ll sleep on the floor and leave first thing

Jay Promise.

Your heart skips a beat as you read the texts coming through. You want to say “no, never speak to me again, have a nice life.” But your brain kept telling you something was wrong. The JJ you knew and, against your better judgment, loved never acted so closed off, so hurt. While you didn’t know if it was your subconscious making yourself feel better about everything you and JJ had been through and the fact that he still felt nothing for you, you knew you were going to let him in.

“You’re an adult, you can’t be this stubborn for the rest of our lives,” Kie shouted, standing above JJ where he sat on her bed. “Rafe has changed, not everyone stays who they were in high school like you.”

“Rafe wasn’t a kid Kiara, he was basically our age now,” JJ huffs, checking his phone again, gritting his teeth, “You act like he was some innocent victim.”

“He went through a lot okay, if Sarah can forgive him why can’t you.” She snaps, huffing as she begins to pace.

“Sarah has a child who should know his uncle, they’re family, Sarah didn’t “forgive” him she accepted it because she’s a good mother and a good sister,” JJ snaps, eyeing Kie where she stares at him like he had two heads, “And I don’t need to accept shit.”

Kie’s eyes darken, staring at him like he was somehow wrong. Her jaw noticeably clenches while she stops pacing, staring at him with eyes as deadly as a viper.

JJ sighs, eyeing his phone again and preparing himself for a lecture.

~~~~

[Next Part]

-Taglist- (ask to be added❤️)

@slut-4-gojo @cali-888 @marley1773 @agnxstic

[platypusundercover]

Hello!

I was wondering, could I please request a Boothill and Ratio x reader (Seperate) where the reader is attacked and comes home injured and covered in blood, to the surprise of their lover.(Sorry if this is too dark🥲)

Hi~ Thank you for the request! (Not too dark, don't worry!) First time writing Ratio, I was debating how to call him in there: either Ratio or Veritas, but went with the latter. I hope I wrote him alright ? It was fun to explore his character :D

Boothill

You tasted blood and that metallic under-flavor was definitely not welcome. You entered the kitchen and sighed. Boothill was hard at work on.. something that you couldn’t see on the counter, back facing you.

“I’m home.” You said simply, in a nasal voice. “And I need tissues.”

He wouldn’t have perked up without that last sentence. He looked back to you and suddenly whatever he was doing on the kitchen counter got discarded at the speed of light. You were uselessly holding a finger to your nostril trying to stop the bleeding, that already got all over your hand, chin and... collar? Nosebleed aren’t usually that bad, right?

“Wow! Hey there,” He said arriving at your side, putting a protective around your back. “Who the fork did this to you?”

“Weirdo at the bar.” You started explaining, as Boothill handed you tissues. “They were laying it on the waitress a bit too thick. I told them to back off and they didn’t like it very much.”

Boothill’s worried face eased a bit, and he couldn't refrain a grin. He knew you could handle yourself. You wouldn’t pick a fight you know you wouldn’t win. You bunched a piece of tissue into your nostril and kept the pressure with your fingers.

“I won though.” You said proudly, smiling big at him, mouth full of blood, teeth all red. “Then we got kicked out. Buuut I was promised a free drink, for saving the day.”

“Well look at ya.” He pulled you in closer and peck your forehead. “Got myself a knight in shining armor now?”

You laughed and detached from him to walk over to the sink and spit the blood that had accumulated in your mouth. You grabbed a glass and rinsed your mouth to get rid of that metallic aftertaste. The cowboy approached again and grabbed a tissue to remove the blood that still hadn't dried of your chin.

“They got you good, huh?” You grunted. “You gonna be alright?” He continued softer, concerned.

“Yeah, I will. I’ve had worse.”

“I know.” He breathed. “Just checkin’. You tell me if anything comes up, eh? Bring you to a doctor or somethin’.”

You smiled at him, and pecked his cheek, hoping the sweet gesture would convey your gratitude. Nothing much he could do either way, it’s a matter of waiting for the bleeding to stop. Just the fact that he cared made your chest warm. It already felt much better anyway. He peered at you from under his hat and chuckled.

“You look ridiculous with that cotton ball up your nose.”

“You love me though.” You replied smugly, daring him to oppose you.

“Yeah, I do. But know what I love more?” He paused and you playfully shook your head. “You not complainin’ about the blood stains on your shirt, lemme clean it for you.”

You scoffed and pulled you bloodied shirt over your head, handing it to him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk. He gave you a wink and headed to the bathroom, while you finished cleaning out the blood on your neck and face with a wet towel. Once done, you looked over to what he left on the counter when you came in. Where those…? Was he cooking your favorite meal? Oh Boothill…

Ratio

When you arrived back home, a bit out of breath, you found Veritas where you left him earlier. On the sofa, a few papers in hand. He was tapping his pen against his lower lips rhythmically, eyes trained on the words hastily written by one of his student.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He asked nonchalantly.

“I- uh. Yeah, yeah I got it.”

Hearing your small, dazed voice made him detach his eyes from the paper he was reading and as soon as he set eyes on you, he shot up. You had blood running from your hair to over your brow bone and left eye, and your futile attempt to stop the bleeding with either your hands or your jacket just made a bloody mess of everything. Who knew head injuries bled so much? The paper in his hand long forgotten on the sofa, the doctor took long strides toward you.

“What happened?” He asked, concern evident on his face. He helped you toward the bathroom and sat you on the toilet while he got the first aid kit out.

“I decided to take a detour, I wanted to walk a bit longer.” You explained, slowly, still feeling a bit lightheaded from the Adrenaline finally subsiding. “There was a guy on the way and I don’t know. I must have looked at him funny because he approached me and tried to grab me?” You explained still confused at what exactly happened. “So, I pushed him away and he- He bashed my head into a wall.”

Veritas stopped his movement as he was putting on gloves after having sanitized his hands. He looked at you bewildered. How dare he? He hurriedly parted your hair to look for the main wound just on the crown of your head above your forehead. You almost leaned into the touch, sighing. When he found what he was looking for, he applied antiseptic, cleaning out any clots and debris around the wounds before covering it with a fresh piece of gauze and bandages. It didn’t even sting.

“I punched him back so hard he fell on his ass, and I kind of panicked and ran here. I couldn’t even see from my left eye because of the blood.” You laughed tiredly.

However, Veritas did not find this very funny.

“Head injuries can be extremely serious and traumatic. Maybe you should be more concerned about this!” He scolded lightly; his brows still furrowed in evident worry. “They can cause degeneration of brain cells, internal bleeding or even torn tissues.” He removed his gloves and threw them in the trash, now wetting a towel with warm water. “We should take you to a clinic after this. Check for anything more serious.”

“Aw, you care.” You mumbled, still in a daze a soft smile on your lips.

He light blush rose high on his cheekbones, and he started swabbing at your face to remove the drying blood from your skin, gentle as ever.

“Of course I care, you are my partner. This is serious, you know!”

“I know,” you drawled, your hand reach to wrap around his wrist. “But in what better hands could I be?” You nuzzled into his hand. “I got the famous Dr. Ratio as my personal nurse, I got nothing to worry about.”

He huffed and continued his task diligently, now a small pout on his lips, sporting his blush still. You were adorable sure but also such a menace. This was not the time to joke like that! But he couldn’t help fighting against a small smile. Oh how smitten he was.

© platypusundercover - 2024 || Request rules

[mochatsin]

When MC is a Writer

You’ve written several books back in the human realm, some posted online while others were published. You have some works unfinished but since you were taken to Devildom, you had to put them on hold. Eventually the brothers find out about your hobby.

Hi I had this idea while I was reading light novels. Certain brothers would have certain themes in whatever is being written to fit them, but feel free to imagine what kind of story your MC would write. Thanks for reading!

------------

Lucifer

Lucifer was out on a stroll on RAD when he spotted you with Simeon having lunch together, looking deep in discussion. He does notice that you both have been spending a lot of time together and a part of him is curious as to why that is. You’re either talking with Simeon during lunch breaks or meeting up with him after school. He’s not jealous, Lucifer is more intrigued as to what must be so important that you come home late after your visits with the angel. 

You were both in his study when he finally asked you about it. You were late for dinner yesterday after coming home late from purgatory hall, Lucifer wouldn’t want you to start ditching your duties if it’s your turn to make dinner for the week. You explain to him that you’re not trying to avoid your chores at all, there’s just something that you needed Simeon’s help with. Now what could possibly Simeon do that Lucifer couldn’t? He probes a bit more until you spill the truth. 

You tell Lucifer that you and Simeon are meeting up together because you’re trying to tie the loopholes in this story that you were writing, and Simeon has given you great advice as a fellow writer. Now Lucifer is intrigued, enough to the point he put down his fountain pen and paused in his work. That can wait until tomorrow, he wants to hear all about your writing. He won’t pressure you into talking if you don’t want to tell him yet, but he promises not to make fun of whatever you make. 

You both enjoy a glass of demonus while you tell Lucifer the premise of your story, giving him enough background and detail for him to understand the part that you’re having trouble writing. Surprisingly, Lucifer is also quite a big help as he asks you thought provoking questions and offers suggestions that you can try to implement into your works. Given that he’s read several pieces of literature for the years he’s been alive, he has a lot of insight on what you can do to pace your story better. 

There’s a small smile on his face as he notices how your eyes shine every time you figure out a way for you to write the next parts, and he sits there in his spot sipping on his drink while you talk about what you can do for future updates. It’s impressive just listening to you untangle such an intricate story as if you’re just placing pieces of a puzzle together. To him, your mind is beautiful. 

Some time later, you found Lucifer by the living room with your book in his hand. He said that even though you explained the story, he still wanted to see how it really goes and appreciate your work. You asked if there’s anything you can do to thank him the other day for helping you, and all Lucifer asked  is that he’s the first to know once you update.

Mammon

Mammon is lounging in your room while he’s checking his stocks and latest lottery results (he lost) when you start asking him questions about gambling. He interpreted this as you finally having an interest in his gambling habits so he began talking about the mechanics. Roulette tables, machines, you name it and he’ll explain it with great detail. It would make the brothers wonder why Mammon can’t even remember to do all his chores when he can recall all of these with ease. 

You also ask about how people normally scheme and cheat in casinos. At first he thought you were accusing him even though he often does that in game nights at the House of Lamentation (Levi caught him), but then he realizes it’s just pure curiosity so he explains how he’s heard some people pull it off. It’s a high risk kind of stunt and since he doesn’t want to be banned from the casino then he doesn’t resort to those methods. 

Mammon then starts questioning why you’re asking these. It’s not like you were going to gamble right? He silently hoped you weren’t in debt to the point you’re resorting to gambling but no that’s not the case. You tell him that you’re trying to write a scene and it takes place in a casino, and since Mammon spends a lot of his time in those places then his experience makes him the best person to ask. He was definitely turning red at that last part. 

Mammon goes back to his room and since you talked about your writing, he searches for it online to check out your works. He didn’t know you were such a big shot in the reading community so he wants to see what your stuff was about. It started as reading the summary, to reading the introduction, and now he’s updated. They were all right, you’re good. 

Mammon starts reading more often, though it’s mostly limited to the things you’ve written before. Satan has been trying to get him to read his personal recommendations but if it’s something written by you then he’s not hesitating to pick it up. Lucifer is personally thanking you for giving Mammon something that helped temporarily forget his gambling habits and dumb schemes.

If you have any more questions about gambling or anything, Mammon is always happy to tell you everything he knows. Heck, he even offered to bring you over to the casino to let you have some personal experience of whatever that is you’re writing but the brothers warned you against that idea if you want to come back home with Grimm still in your pockets.

Levi

Lately Levi has been reading a lot of Light Novels. Usually he’d be updating himself with manga he’s read to check for any new updates but he decided to pick on light novels that one of his favorite manga’s are based on. He claims that despite the manga and anime adaptations, there’s still a whole world of lore that there’s yet to discover so he wants to pick up on those, and he eventually came to appreciate these sorts of books. 

He was going through some recommendations and read through some of them, but one series definitely caught his attention and he spent an entire night trying to catch up to the latest update. He went to the breakfast table with heavy bags in his eyes and a big pout on his face so you ask him what’s wrong. 

He tells you that he found an interesting book series that has all his favorite tropes, but the author went on a sudden hiatus so there weren't any new updates as of recently. Biggest problem is that the chapter was left on a cliffhanger. You let him ramble on with the story until you realized that was one of your works. You were debating if you should admit it or not but maybe it’s best you do. 

You explained that you were actually the author and the work was on pause because of the exchange program. You wrote it in the human realm but because you were taken to Devildom, you couldn’t find the time to continue writing. Levi wasn’t sure if he should believe you were actually the author because no way can this happen to him twice, first it was TSL now it’s this one. 

He asked you several questions about the series like another TSL trivia quiz. His question went from easy basic knowledge to something oddly specific, but since you wrote it then you answered everything perfectly. Levi has that sparkle in his eyes that he usually has when he looks at his idols, except this time it’s with you. 

Levi refuses to hear any major spoiler from you so that his reactions are genuine by the time you update. You’re instantly one of his favorite writers and he won't hesitate to hype up your work on any forum platform. He can talk about how much he loves your writing to the point that you’re motivated to go back to finishing the next chapters. Maybe you could let Levi take a peek to be the first person to read once you’re done.

Satan

It’s always a nice leisure time to just sit in a room with Satan, both of you doing your own thing while discussing books you’ve both read recently. Often though you both do that in his room but since his recent rampage left everything a bigger mess than it already was to begin with, your book discussions were held in your room for the time being until his place gets cleaned up. Barbatos is not going to be happy about it.

You can see how he’s dying to discuss the latest book he’s read so the moment you say he can go first, he’s talking almost to a Levi level kind of excitement. Satan tells you how he recently found a series he’s invested in. The story and pacing are so good that he was hooked on it immediately, recalling all his favorite lines and scenes from it. He talks about the work in high regards and how he hopes the author comes back soon with some updates. 

You don’t know if you should be surprised that Satan has already come across your works considering that most of his days are dedicated to reading. You haven’t told him about this part of your life since he’s read so many good books, you fear it may not be up to match with other great writers so you kept it a secret from him. It's nice to see that Satan is praising your works, unaware that you were the author.  

You left your laptop on one day and Satan didn’t intend to look but accidentally did. He thought it was a homework essay for one of your classes, but he was surprised to see your drafts of the next chapters. Satan wanted to assume you were those fanfic writers that Levi has been talking about, but he does see that it was all aligned to the latest update. Realizing how much  he just talked about your work in front of you made him red from embarrassment, but he’s proud more than anything else. 

He comes clean that he knows your secret while apologizing for taking a peek, but he’s quite ecstatic to be associated with someone as talented as you are. It’s one thing to be a fan of books, it’s another to be writing a good one. If you need a beta reader, he’s always ready to lend his services. He’s a quick reader and he can lend useful advice or proper criticisms. At least he can be useful to you and it’s a bonus to be the first out of everyone to read about it.

Other than being a huge bookworm, Satan is the most knowledgeable among the brothers so if you’re struggling with writing something you don’t know too much about then he’ll help fill in the gaps of your knowledge. If it’s something he’s not familiar with then expect to wake up the next day finding out that Satan spent the night researching it for you so he could answer any question you have. He’d love to help you out in whatever way he can. 

Asmo

Asmo has been whining to the house of purgatory for any ideas because he needs to make some new content for his account because he wants to keep his followers entertained. He’s always doing makeup and skin care reviews because it’s what he does best (and also because he’s sponsored to do so), so Asmo is thinking of what’s something new he can do this time. It’s good to do something new from time to time to shock his fanbase.

Simeon suggests that Asmo should go read a book. At first the demon thought he was being condescending, but given that it’s a suggestion from Simeon then it’s definitely a genuine one. Asmo wanted to turn down the idea, though Simeon adds that he should read books up his alley. Perhaps a romance book should suit his tastes? They’re not too complicated to read and can be entertaining if written well. Being an Avatar of Lust, romance does sound intriguing and Simeon has the perfect book to recommend.

Asmo shocks everyone at the House of Lamentation when he comes home reading a book. It has a pretty cover and talks a tale of lovers, plus it was easy for him to digest since the book isn’t as thick and heavy like the ones that Satan normally likes to read. He seems overjoyed by the book that Simeon suggested to him and it must take a lot for a story to captivate Asmo that he almost forgets his nightly skin care routine.

He’s laying on your lap, swinging his feet with glee as he talks to you about this book he’s been fussing over. The story progressed so nicely between the two lovebirds, and each obstacle is so entertaining that Asmo can’t help but go through the next pages to see what happened. Does it strain the relationship? Do they break up? How will it go from here on then? It’s all too good! One of the best romance books he’s read so far. 

The more he talked about the twists and the plot, the more you realized that he was talking about your book that you published before you even got to Devildom. You ask Asmo how he got his hands on that book since it’s from the human realm, and he tells you that Simeon suggested it. You sighed, of course it was Simeon. He was the only one who knew you wrote books because you told him, though you didn’t expect that he’d suggest it to Asmo of all people.

Eventually you come clean to Asmo that you were the author, and it took a bit of explaining until he would believe you. You showed him your old drafts of when you worked, maybe some pictures of that time when you were storyboarding the book so you could convince him. He’s shocked to see this precious human has quite the talent of writing romance novels, he almost believed that your works were written by cupid himself! His new promotional video is him raving about your books, talking about how his heart skipped a beat and whatnot. The sales spiked that day.

Beel

Beel came home from practice one afternoon and due to the intensive workout, he’s definitely starving for something. He bought some Black Puddle Jelly from Madam Scream’s before he went home because he thought about sharing them with you. Food always tastes better when it’s with you. He would’ve brought Belphie with him, though his twin is still in detention for pulling a prank on Lucifer during class earlier.

He looks for you but before he goes to your room, he spots you by the kitchen instead trying to cook up something. As far as Beel knows, it’s Levi who would be on dinner duties for tonight so he’s wondering what you’re doing in there. The aroma of what you were making is what drew Beel to you, and he asks what you were up to when you spot him behind you, mouth already watering. 

You tell Beel that you’re trying to cook some recipe you found online while making use of the ingredients here in Devildom. It’s the first time you went out to buy every ingredient on your own to experiment, and Beel immediately points out to you which ones would probably be safe to eat and what would be dangerous to add in the dish because some ingredients won’t react well with each other. Even though Beel can most likely eat anything, he wouldn’t want you to accidentally poison yourself. 

Beel watches you type down some notes on your phone and asks if that was for the recipe, though you tell him that you’re writing details. You’re attempting to cook with foreign ingredients because you’re trying to immerse yourself with a character you’re writing in your story. A character that’s trying to discover some new recipes with things they’ve never seen before.

You’re thankful for Beel’s advice about the ingredients earlier, it helped you gain some more insight and inspiration on what to do for the next chapters. You’re already imagining the culinary endeavors your character will go through while you’re chopping the mandrakes you got. The demon is happy to help and all Beel asks is that you feed him whatever you’re making when you’re done, since he likes your cooking after all. He sits by the island counter, chewing on the Black Puddle Pudding while he listens to you discuss your book with him. 

Beel eventually walks up to you one day and admits that he tried to read your works. Your culinary adventure storyline is fantastic, but when it starts to describe all the delicious food that the character makes, Beel’s hunger starts to spike that he almost ate the page. There’s just something about the way you discuss the food that makes it sound so appetizing to him, he almost wants to recreate it with you. When you offer to read it with him while he eats some snacks, he has this happy smile on his face as he nods. 

Belphie

Belphie just got back from RAD, stretching his limbs a bit and yawning as he opens the door. He just came back from detention for pulling pranks, and all he wants to do is to just fall asleep right now. He wanted to invite Beel for a nap but his twin is still in practice so he’s not available. You were the next person he had in mind, so he went out searching for you around the house.

He finds you by the planetarium, and he was ready to invite you to sleep but he sees that your focus has been going back and forth between your notes and the stars in the sky. Since Devildom always has an endless night time, you’re able to study the constellations as freely as you want. There’s no need for you to wait for the sun to set like you had to back in the human realm. There are books about Devildom stars scattered around you, ones you’ve borrowed from the library or from Satan’s collection so you can study them better.

He sits down next to you, resting his head over your shoulder and asking if you’re trying to memorize the constellations. You explain that you’re trying to get inspiration and notes for something you’re writing, a short fairy tale that’s dedicated to the stars this time. You’ve written fairy tales before you got here, and you want to make something inspired from Devildom stars. The constellations they have here are way different from what you normally see in the human realm, so you’re sure that the stories behind them are different as well. 

A fairy tale about stars? Written by one of the people he cares about the most? Belphie is definitely interested in hearing more about it. He doesn’t try to tease you or anything about the fact you’re writing stories, he’s even willing to offer to help you by telling you everything he knows about the stars and the stories behind each constellation that he can remember at the top of his head in hopes that may spark more inspirations. Satan may know a lot of things, but Belphie is passionate about stars and you can feel it from the way he talks. 

Belphie is incredibly drowsy the next day since he spent the night talking about your writing and helping you with it. He can’t help it when it’s about stars, and Belphie loves the way your eyes light up whenever you get an idea that you can put in. To him, it almost shines like the stars you’re writing about. He may have a vague idea of your story based on yesterday’s conversation, but he’s excited to read the final outcome. He’s seen glimpses of your works when you showed him your notes, it would definitely be worth the wait.

You invited him back to the planetarium because you want to show him your draft underneath all the stars. Even when he’s tired, he shows up and lays next to you to rest with all these pillows. The only favor he asked was that you read the fairytale for him while he rests, he promises he’ll try not to fall asleep. You read the story to him, occasionally checking if he’s still awake or not. Whenever you stopped, he would squeeze your hand and despite having his eyes closed, he would tell you to continue with such a groggy voice. He manages to at least hear the rest of it before falling asleep with a smile on his face.

[violet-fluff]

Levi x Pregnant! Reader AU

An Unexpected Gift (pt.1)

Part two

Masterlist

You stared at the endless amount of medical posters plastered on the walls.

One provided a hotline for mental crisis.

One demonstrated a diagram of a human’s nervous system.

And another was reminding everyone to get their flu shot for the upcoming season.

You weren’t here for any of that. You were here because…cancer.

At least that’s what Google determined your sudden nausea was, because…why wouldn’t Google continuously tell people they have cancer?

“Miss L/N?” A nurse’s sweet voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

The nurse escorts you to the back where she has you step on a scale to get your weight.

You’ve lost three pounds.

Yup. Cancer. Definitely cancer.

After taking other precautions like your height, blood pressure and temperature, the nurse leaves you in a room to wait for the doctor.

The crinkling of the bed’s paper cover annoys you as it crinkles every time you move.

You sit up straight as you hear a knock on the door and your doctor walks in.

“Miss L/N. Nice to see you again.”

“Dr. Reed,” You sigh, “I have cancer don’t I?”

Dr. Reed chuckles as he sits in his chair, reading over his clipboard. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop reading Google?”

“Every time…”

He looks over the rim of his glasses and smiles as he clicks his pen closed. “Well fortunately for you, Miss L/N, you don’t have cancer. Your blood tests and urine samples came back showing that you’re pregnant.”

Time stood still. You feel all the color wash from your face as you feel light headed. “P-pregnant?”

“Mhmm,” Dr. Reed hums and crosses his arms. “It explains your sudden nausea, weight loss and fatigue. I’m shocked Google told you cancer and not pregnancy. Although, your iron levels are low so I’m going to prescribe you iron pills as well as prenatals.”

You cover your eyes as you laugh in disbelief. “I didn’t figure I was pregnant because my husband is snipped. He’s not supposed to be able to get me pregnant!”

Dr. Reed hums in thought. “I see. Well unfortunately in some rare instances, vasectomies can fail. I would advise your husband to go to his doctor to get that looked at. You both decided to not have children or he already had the vasectomy before he married you?”

You sigh. “We both decided to not have children.”

“Alright,” Dr. Reed uses his professionalism to analyze the situation, “How do you feel about this? The pregnancy I mean.”

“Shocked. In disbelief.” You twiddle your thumbs anxiously. “I mean, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I have an important question to ask. This may be one you want to speak with your husband about first, only if you’re comfortable with that. Do you want to terminate the pregnancy or keep it?” The doctor asks sternly, but softly.

You try to think of an answer, but so much is going on in your head that you can’t come up with one on the spot. “Um, I have to think about this first. I would also like to let my husband know. It would be wrong of me not to tell him.”

Dr. Reed nods and helps you up. “Alright. If you want to keep the pregnancy or terminate it, I want you to call the office right away after you make the decision so I can know what direction to take you.”

Tears fill your eyes as you nod. “Thanks, Dr. Reed.”

He smiles and helps you back out to the office.

Once you get home, Levi is waiting for you on the couch. Your eyes widen.

“You’re home early?”

Levi nods as he watches the TV. “Yeah. The building is getting electrical maintenance so Erwin sent us all home.”

“Ok.” You quickly walk to the bathroom and sit on the floor for a few minutes, trying to figure out how you will tell Levi.

You jump when there’s a knock on the door. “You alright? Did you have to take a shit?”

With a small laugh, you took a deep breath and decided it was now or never.

You walk out of the bathroom and come face to face with Levi. He raises a brow as you grab his arm and sit you both on the edge of your bed.

“I went to the doctors today….”

Levi groaned. “Shit. You’re dying aren’t you?”

You give a small smile. “I thought I was. But…I’m pregnant…”

Levi’s eyes widen and he jumps up. “What?! How?!”

“The doctor said sometimes a vasectomy can fail and-“

“No no no!” Levi cuts you off as he starts pacing back and forth. “Not mine. My wouldn’t fail. I went to the best doctor in the city.”

At a loss for words, all you can do is start tearing up and stuttering. “W-well, that’s what my doctor said. He confirmed-“

Levi stopped right in front of you and looked down towards you. “You cheated didn’t you?”

“What?! No!” You yell. “I literally told you what my doctor said. He said you should get rechecked by yours.”

Levi covers his face with his hands. “Do you want to keep it? Because remember we both decided we liked to be by ourselves and not have a little shit to deal with.”

A sense of motherly instinct washed over you on that last part and caused you to stand up in irritation. “I do want to keep it.”

That causes Levi to freeze in place and then suddenly throw his hands up in frustration. “Shit! I can’t deal with this right now!”

He storms out of the bedroom and you can hear the jingle of his car keys as he stomps out the front door, giving it a nice slam on his way out.

You are emotionless for a good minute before you start sobbing into your hands.

‘I guess I’m a single mom now.’

[pantheresssy]

yo if you do request you should do a reader thats similar to max from two broke girls and loser ellie how would they be tg and how reader would have a soft spot for only ellie

MAX!R AND LOSER!ELLIE — EW.

— ┊⋆ cw: r is a big boob girly and this have non graphic smut even but there’s something talking about it.

i’ve never watched two broke girls before so i was guided by tiktoks edits, hope you like it! it took me so long but i wrote this and deleted over and over, i’m sorry for any mistake and for this b so short …

loser!ellie who would fall to her knees after seeing you walking around dressed on the most horrendous mustard yellow dress with hints of red, not moving an inch to try and treat costumers more gently — differently of your best friend, dina –, including her.

loser!ellie who would do anything to have your eyes on her, but not really knowing how to do it. she would try to flirt when you stepped on her table, notebook on hand and beating the pen on it in the rhythm of the song your mind couldn’t stop singing, but it would come out so fucking bad, so she would just sit and stare like “um … hi,”

loser!ellie who would notice your enormous boobs pushing out of the neckline and would salivate for them, but always looking away afraid of you noticing it. she would dream about them at night, day, noon, while you were just two feet’s away from her. them and you were all she could think about for ages.

loser!ellie who would give up on you after trying three times, putting on her mind that you would never look at her. nobody but losers like her ever did and she knew that this wouldn’t change. you were the hot girl she would just want from afar.

loser!ellie who had a admirer since day one, who just waited to the point she would combust on her place to do something. you were looking at her more discreetly while taking the customer’s orders, acknowledging each time sho would look at you with puppy eyes, wanting. she was beautiful and dina side eying you because of your unusual attitude had made everything more exciting.

loser!ellie who would make you like her so easily just by the way she seemed to be so messed up. at your eyes it could be a great match: the hot girl with the loser. so you used everything she couldn’t keep her eyes off to play a little, flirting — but she was slower than you thought, never understanding what you were saying.

loser!ellie who would make you go softer only for her, even if she doesn’t seemed to notice it. while you talked to others as if you were bored, always sarcastic, with her it was a hole different story, with “good morning”s, “i’m gonna be your waitress today”s and “don’t be pressured, i’ll wait”s. you’re being so fucking soft for her and hated it, but couldn’t change it.

loser!ellie who couldn’t see things that were in front of her eyes, only giving the time of the day to everything her mind told her, believing it was the only true. and while you were investing so much on playing a little, ellie wasn’t getting none of it … after a while, you decided to do what you did best and see what she would do: you were going to be direct.

loser!ellie who almost threw up when, one day, you came up to her table and while noting what she wanted, said: “instead of looking at my boobs you should just ask to grab ‘em.” you looked at her and placed the notebook in your pocket. “i’ll say yes.”

loser!ellie who would still be gagging and not knowing how to react each time you were closer — because you were closer after that day, and for the first time she was starting to realise something.

loser!ellie who when she was going to say her order, saw you biting your lip while looking at her hand and tattoo, you being the one salivating over her now. and after you saw that she knew what you were doing, blinked and smiled, pretending to accidentally pull the neckline down, the suggestion of your halo appearing.

loser!ellie who after this got more confident and finally had the courage to ask what she wanted, in which you were more than happy to give her. ellie took you to eat in a decent place and was nervous during all of it – with you thinking that it was kind of captivating. in the end, she was with you on her lap, her face buried between your boobs while you rode her thigh.

loser!ellie who learned how to eat someone out wonderfully well and was taking all of your attention, knowing that she was the only one to have your big, soft boobs on her mouth and face. (having your nipple on her pussy as well).

loser!ellie who was the first to have you so gently, and the only one to make you handle better your shitty work after a great fuck.

[losermuse]

Yandere! Alpha x Alpha fem! Darling

TW: 18+ (mdni), suggestive content, misogyny, non-con touching, manipulation, drugging. AN: an intro for my first yan oc!

The hierarchy dictated everything—everyone was classified by their secondary gender: Alpha, Beta, or Omega. And you? You were rare, but not in the way most expected. A recessive Alpha—stronger than a Beta, yet lacking the overpowering dominance of a true Alpha.

Yandere! Alpha, the top of the top, was a ruthless mogul reigning over the pharmaceutical industry with his paracetamol empire. Wealth, power, status—he had it all, handed to him on a silver platter.

With his striking blonde hair that caught the light and piercing grey eyes that seemed to see straight through people, he was a force to be reckoned with. It wasn't just his wealth or influence that turned heads, his looks alone were enough to command attention. People flocked to him like moths to a flame, their intentions clear in every word and glance.

He could smell their greed, their ambition, their desperation. It was all too predictable—how they spoke, how they grovelled, how they fawned over him in hopes of getting closer to the power he wielded.

But it bored him.

Still, despite his dominance, even he had a flaw. A single, nagging flaw that set him apart from others of his kind was his heightened sense of smell, especially when it came to the pheromones of Omegas. The scent was foul, and cloying, an assault on his senses that he couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried. It was overpowering, suffocating—a constant reminder of their weakness.

So when it came to choosing a secretary, he sought someone who could keep up. Someone on his level. A Beta wouldn’t do—they lacked the edge and an Omega was out of the question.

And then there was you, capable, sharp—someone who wouldn’t crumble under pressure. More importantly, yours was the only scent that didn’t revolt against him, a delicate trace of jasmine and pear, intoxicating yet unobtrusive.

Yandere! Alpha was impossible at first, demanding, short-tempered, and a complete hard-ass but you never cowered, never gave him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch. Every sharp remark was met with calm composure, every unreasonable demand handled with quiet efficiency, even as you secretly fantasized about strangling him. Of course, working for him had its downsides, endless paperwork, last-minute schedule changes, and an unhealthy reliance on caffeine just to keep up.

There were moments you wanted to quit, moments when his ‘tantrums’ tested even your patience. But the pay was good—more than good. The kind of money that meant early retirement before you even hit forty. So you endured, managing him the way a babysitter might handle an overgrown toddler. Every scowl and pen he threw your way was met with nothing more than a polished, professional smile. After all, at the end of the day, it was the paycheck that mattered most to you.

–

“It’s just a job. Just a job.” You sighed, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you fixed your hair, muttering to yourself. 

Gripping the sink, you leaned forward, your voice dropping to a firm whisper. “Think about the paycheck. Think about that beach house, the early retirement, the drinks with tiny umbrellas…”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your pep talk. His voice came through, sharp and impatient. “Are you planning to hide in there all day?”

Rolling your eyes, you straightened up and forced a smile. “Calm down. I’m coming.”

–

Yandere! Alpha hated you for that at first. You were an Alpha, yet you took his bullshit without so much as a flinch. No challenge, no defiance—just quiet, unshaken obedience. It was unnatural, Alphas were supposed to push back, to fight for dominance. You didn’t and yet, that very contradiction fascinated him. Your scent, subtle yet distinct, only fueled his obsession.

Yandere! Alpha strolled through the sprawling garden with his business partner, the soft hum of polite conversation filling the air. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, golden shadows over the perfectly manicured hedges and flowerbeds.

They paused near a small wrought-iron gazebo, its trellises adorned with blooming jasmine vines. The delicate white flowers seemed to glow in the fading light, their sweet, intoxicating scent drifting on the breeze. His gaze lingered on the vine, a small tendril twisting and curling around the iron bars as though trying to escape.

“The jasmine thrives here,” the business partner remarked with a smile, gesturing to the vine. “It’s strong and persistent but without proper support, it would sprawl aimlessly, consuming everything around it.”

Yandere! Alpha's lips curved into a faint smirk, his eyes fixed on the twisting vine. “Support,” he mused. “Or control?”

The man chuckled, oblivious to the weight behind the question. “One and the same, aren’t they? Left unchecked, it becomes something elegant. Something made to fit.”

Yandere! Alpha reached out, running his fingers along a curling vine, feeling tension in its tangled growth. “Control,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Without it, even the strongest things can lose their way.”

He plucked a single bloom, rolling it between his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. The jasmine’s scent clung to him, delicate yet persistent, much like you. Untamed and unmarked, but not for long.

He’d make sure of it. One way or another.

That was how he set his plan into motion. A secret project, developed in the depths of the black market, funded by his endless resources. He gathered the best minds—the kind of scientists who thrived in the shadows, the ones who made breakthroughs that could never see the light of day. 

Yandere! Alpha tasked them with the impossible: a pill that could rewrite biology itself. A pill that would erode an Alpha’s dominance, stripping them down until they became something else entirely.

Something softer. Something obedient.

Something like an Omega.

The key ingredient? You.

A single strand of your hair, taken when you weren’t looking, was all they needed to tailor the formula to your recessive Alpha DNA. Since you were already closer to the middle ground, the transition would be easier. It wasn’t an instant transformation—no, that would be too obvious, too reckless. Instead, he had them design the pill to work slowly, altering you on a cellular level, little by little until the change was complete.

And then came the execution.

Every morning, your coffee was already waiting for you the moment you stepped into his office. At first, you’d questioned it, wondering why he was suddenly so... considerate. But he brushed off your doubts with a curt, "It's the least I can do for my favourite secretary."  

“Okay….”

It became part of the routine, a small luxury amid the daily chaos of working for him. What you didn’t realize was that, with each sip, a carefully measured dose of the pill slipped into your system, silently working its way through your veins.

At first, nothing changed. Days passed, then weeks. He watched, waiting, studying you for any sign of weakness, any shift in your scent, your demeanour.

“Busy morning?” he asked one day, leaning lazily against his desk as you reached for your cup.

You exhaled, barely sparing him a glance. “Always.”

He smirked as you took a sip, completely unaware.

Good.

Patience was key, and he had plenty of it for once.

It began subtly, almost imperceptible at first—a faint weakness that crept in like a thief in the night. Gradually, it grew, a steady drain on your strength, leaving you feeling as though your energy was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Your rut, once clockwork and reliable, was now inexplicably delayed, and the suppressant you had always trusted seemed to have failed you entirely.

Saturday came a day set aside for you to work alone, as usual, with no one else in the office. He’d insisted on it, of course, leaving no room for argument. You stepped into his office, trying to steady yourself against the sudden wave of dizziness that hit you the moment you crossed the threshold. The room seemed to spin slightly, and his scent—the rich, intoxicating notes of sandalwood and tobacco—became almost overpowering.

You placed a hand on your forehead, trying to ignore the heat building in your body, but it was becoming impossible to focus.

Yandere! Alpha noticed immediately. His eyes flickered to you, narrowing slightly with concern that felt a bit too calculated to be genuine. He pushed himself off the desk and took a step toward you, his presence commanding.

“You’re not looking so good,” he said with a mix of amusement and something else, something you couldn’t quite read.

You blinked, trying to clear your head. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts.

He didn’t buy it. “You don’t look fine.” His gaze flicked over you, studying you like a predator watching its prey. His scent seemed to cling to the air more strongly, making your head spin.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested, his tone more insistent now. He gestured to the chair, his eyes never leaving yours.

You hesitated, then slowly sat, hoping the cool leather of the chair would steady you.

“You’re different,” he said, almost to himself. “Something’s changed. Tell me what’s going on.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Instead, your mind raced, your body reacting in ways you couldn’t understand. The rush of warmth spreading through your veins felt… wrong.

Yandere! Alpha stepped closer, looming over you now, "Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out," he said with a low voice. But there was something behind his eyes, something dark and calculating, and you felt a chill run down your spine.

This wasn’t just a concern. This was something else—something he wasn’t telling you.

“Your body’s heating up,” he observed, his voice taking on a strange edge. "Let’s cool you down."

Before you could protest, his hands moved with surprising speed, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your blouse. His touch lingered a little too long on your skin, sending an uncomfortable yet pleasurable jolt through your senses.

Yandere! Alpha didn’t wait for any response, only turned to increase the AC, the cold air rushing in and further muddling your mind. The contrast between the cool air and the heat pooling in your body was dizzying, and you couldn’t tell if you felt better or worse. He returned quickly, lowering himself to kneel in front of you, his hands steady as they rested on your thighs.

You tried to speak, to ask what the hell was going on, but your throat was tight, your mind foggy. From his position, he was nearly at eye level, looking down at you with quiet control.

"Relax, I’ll take care of you," he murmured, his voice smooth, almost soothing—if not for the way his hand slipped beneath your blouse, fingers ghosting over your waist before trailing higher.

Your breath hitched as he cupped your breast through the delicate lace of your bra, his touch possessive and claiming.

“S–sir, stop,” you managed with a weak and unsteady voice.

He chuckled, low and indulgently as if the very idea amused him. "Stop?" he repeated, rolling the word over his tongue like a foreign concept. His grip didn’t loosen, instead, his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against your heated skin, feeling the way you trembled beneath him.

"You’re burning up," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "That’s not good, is it?" His thumb grazed your hardened nipple through the lace, and a sharp gasp slipped from your lips before you could swallow it down.

His lips curved into a smirk. "See? You need me."

"You were never meant to be an Alpha," he said smoothly, his tone almost pitying. Almost. “Not like me. Not like the others.” His gaze roamed over you, predatory, as though savouring every inch of your helplessness. “You were wasted as you were, untouchable, unyielding. But now?”

His free hand trailed lower, ghosting over your stomach. A fresh wave of heat surged through you, your body betraying you with every pulse of unnatural warmth.

“Now you’re perfect.”

Your stomach twisted. “You’re insane.”

His lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Am I? Or am I the only one willing to do what’s necessary?”

“I’ve been patient,” he continued. “Watching. Waiting. Each sip of coffee, every drop, altering you little by little. Did you ever stop to wonder why your rut was delayed? Why those suppressants suddenly stop working?”

A sharp pang of realization hit you like a freight train. Your body—your scent, your heat, your very being—none of it felt the same. The pieces clicked together in a way that made your stomach churn.

“You drugged me...”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, tilting his head with feigned curiosity. “Drugged?” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “No, sweetheart. I improved you.”

Your nausea rose as his fingers continued their slow exploration. His hand brushed lightly over your skin, moving up your leg before he teasingly traced the hem of your skirt.

“You—” Your voice wavered. “Why?”

“Everything about you was perfect the way you were,” he murmured. “But now? Now you’ll be more. Much more. I’ll make sure of it.”

You could feel the smirk on his lips against your skin as he leaned closer. His words were drenched in malice and twisted affection, “I did this for you, sweetheart. To help you realize what you truly are... to be mine.”

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

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Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he’s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"

[jsluvtzu]

strawberry kisses (pt. 1)

park jihyo x fem!reader

summary: sweet reminders of who you belong to

cw: smut!!! men dni, cheating-ish?, jihyo’s realll jealous and realllll possessive, choking, marking

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i got this idea while listening to mina’s bridge in first time 😭 everybody say thank you jihyo for putting that pen to work!

the lively restaurant was filled with laughter and half-sober words all around you.

your girlfriend brought you along with her to a dinner with her biker friends: nayeon, momo, and sana.

jihyo had always been a motorcycle enthusiast — she and her friends would constantly go on late night rides together at times that no normal person would be awake.

but recently, things at work had been so hectic that her bike was instead left to collect dust in your garage.

hectic enough to the point where you two hadn’t fucked in three weeks.

any time you wanted to initiate anything intimate with her it was always “i’m too tired”, or, “maybe tomorrow”.

obviously, this meant you were beyond horny.

you were desperate for any form of relief — even just a simple thigh ride while jihyo typed away on her laptop would have sufficed.

but, meeting after meeting, file after file, the work was never ending for jihyo.

your girlfriend’s career had officially stolen her away from you.

until you decided to drag her up from the deep ocean of stress she was drowning in that night.

—

“come onnn, y/n! stop being so lame, ‘js take the damn shot,” nayeon slurred, hoping to encourage you to be on the same level of drunk as her.

“one more shot won’t hurt you, y/n..” sana’s sweet voice joined nayeon’s drunken one in peer pressuring you.

you sighed out dramatically and scoffed at the way you were so easily influenced around them, “alrightt, alright. i’ll do it.”

cheers erupted from the both of them who excitedly poured peach soju in your empty shot glass, spilling a quarter of the bottle in the process.

as you downed your now fourth shot of alcohol, you glanced to your right to see jihyo and momo engaged in some business talk.

momo was like jihyo’s advisor, always giving her pointers and tips about how to manage her substandard employees.

even at a dinner party she can’t seem to get her mind off of work, you thought — slightly disappointed, but also worried.

you shook your head and brought yourself back to your distractions for the night, tipsily conversing with jihyo’s drunk friends about what it would feel like to wake up as a man one day.

while nayeon and sana were debating with each other, the screeching of a scooted back chair caught your attention, your girlfriend suddenly getting up and leaving out the door.

slightly confused, your eyes followed her out into the window in front of the restaurant, only to see her on a phone call with her hand pressed to her forehead.

another fucking work call. you were somewhat angry at this point, and — who keeps rubbing on your thigh?

“you’re soooo fuckin’ pretty, y/n.. ‘wouldn’t even know what to do with all this.” nayeon snuck her way unnecessarily closer to you while you were focused on fighting your girlfriend in your head.

her hand trailed up your exposed thigh from the short black skirt you wore, rubbing at your soft flesh as she mumbled intoxicated things in your ear.

you turned your head down a bit to see nayeon resting her head on your shoulder, nibbling at your bare skin.

“nayeon.. what are you-”

“ ‘s okay, pretty, ‘s ‘js me.” nayeon interrupted as she kissed her way up to your neck.

you shifted yourself away from her touch, uncomfortable at her advances.

momo and sana scolded nayeon from across the table, “stop it before jihyo sees. and you know what she would do to you.” momo was currently the soberest one at the table, attempting to knock some sense into her friend.

“mmm don’t be ridiculous, she’s too busy with her dumb company to pay attention to us..”

nayeon inhaled the sweet vanilla perfume that jihyo loved on you, “god you smell good. ‘could eat you up right here..” she whispered the last part lowly, almost seductively.

it was hard for you to control yourself as the shots you took earlier were getting to you, and it wasn’t exactly a lie that you’d always found nayeon attractive.

but nayeon was right. jihyo was too busy to pay attention, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to make her pay attention for once.

sana and momo were eventually too occupied flirting with each other to see the smile forming on your face when you had your plan in mind.

from the angle the table was at, your seat was in perfect view for jihyo to see nayeon all over you.

whoever jihyo was arguing with over the phone, they had her pacing the sidewalk and getting visibly frustrated, gesturing her hands in the air to emphasize her words with venom laced behind them.

she faced you through the glass pane at the perfect moment when nayeon tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned in for a kiss.

you made direct eye contact with jihyo as you felt nayeon kiss you on the corner of your mouth, letting her messily peck at your lip gloss coated lips.

the way your girlfriend’s furrowed brows relaxed and her soft eyes turned dark only encouraged you to infuriate her even more.

and from the way it sounded, jihyo swung the door open with enough force to break it clean off the hinges.

her footsteps were heavy and intentional.

you slightly winced when jihyo grabbed your arm and forcefully yanked you out of nayeon’s grip.

“mm- the ‘fuck? heyyy.. jiii..hyo..?.. shit.” nayeon said, squinting through her drowsy eyes to make out your girlfriend’s hovering figure. she almost fell completely forward when you were pulled away as she was reliant on your body there to hold her up.

“y/n has to use the bathroom.”

“no i don-“

before you could even finish your sentence, you were already halfway on your way to the ladies’ room.

you were sure that jihyo’s grip on your bicep was strong enough to leave bruises later. not that you were complaining anyways.

she picked the furthest stall at the end of the room to cram the two of you in, pushing you in first and slamming the lock shut behind her.

immediately, you felt how cold her hands were from being outside as she wrapped her fingers around your throat in a tight enough squeeze to give you a rush.

your backside made contact with the flimsy wall, making a loud bang as she pinned you between it and her.

her leg was slotted perfectly between yours and you couldn’t resist the urge to lightly grind your clothed core against her denim covered thigh.

“thought you could get away with your little act huh? ‘tryna make me fuckin’ jealous or somethin’?” the increasingly tight grasp on your neck made your vision go blurry, “greedy slut just needs to be put in her place doesn’t she?”

you attempted to answer her, but you could only give her a lousy groan in response.

jihyo was eyeing you up and down with nothing but pure lust in her eyes.

weeks of not being able to taste you, touch you, feel you — jihyo was just as sexually frustrated as you were.

there was a moment of tension when her hands loosened and she carefully watched as you caught your breath, lips parted and eyelids half-open.

you broke the moment soon enough as you crashed your lips onto hers, moaning into the now sloppily paced make out session.

whines escaped your lips when jihyo pressed her thigh closer to your aching core, making your jaw drop even wider.

she took that opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth, claiming her territory and exploring you fully.

you stabilized yourself with your hands at her shoulders, her muscles insanely defined even through the thick leather jacket she had on.

your girlfriend broke the kiss with your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling away with a pop sound.

it wasn’t long until her lips found their way back to your skin, attacking your jaw and neck.

when you felt her sucking at your soft flesh in a pulsing rhythm, you remembered that you were still very much in public.

“w-wait- jihyo.. we still mmph- have to go out there-”

she laughed against your skin, biting at a new spot on your throat and soothing it with her tongue — the chemical taste of your expensive perfume teasing her tastebuds.

“am i supposed to care? you had no problem eating nayeon’s face in front of everybody,” her hand trailing up to unbutton your cropped cardigan, “more specifically, in front of me.” your collarbones now exposed and tempting her, “it’s only fair baby.”

jihyo left deep red hickeys on damn near every empty patch of skin on your neck — half of your chest and collarbones littered with bite marks and bruises.

she kissed over her last mark on you for now and leaned back to admire her work.

to her, it was better than any other project she had ever worked on.

“that’s good enough, love. let’s go, i’m not done with you.”

jihyo opened the stall door and walked out, running her fingers through her curled hair and leaving you to fix yourself on your own.

seeing yourself in the mirror was definitely a sight.

your hair was disheveled, clothes were out of place, lips were swollen, and the marks. god, the fucking marks she left on you should not have made you feel the way you did.

you were just relieved that nobody came in for the past 10 minutes as you hooked the last button of your baby blue sweater through its hole.

walking back out into the dining hall felt incredibly embarrassing knowing what you currently looked like — you tried sweeping your hair over your neck to cover up as best as you could.

jihyo was already getting your things together to leave when you got back to the table, ignoring the fact that nayeon’s eyes couldn’t leave your flushed face.

sana laughed in disbelief, “you guys are fucking nasty.”

you avoided prolonged eye contact with all three of them while saying your goodbyes and followed behind your still angry girlfriend.

her bike was parked alongside the curb next to the rest of theirs, but a special pink heart that she let you paint on the small windshield distinguished it from anyone else’s.

the wind kept blowing your hair from its designated spot and revealed your pretty marks to the people that passed by.

jihyo saw you hugging yourself as she set her bike up, taking off her leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

mumbling out a low thank you, you slid your arms through the sleeves and threw your leg over the seat, sitting directly and comfortably behind your girlfriend.

“helmet.” jihyo passed you a matching helmet that you two got for your anniversary last year over her shoulder.

you slid your head into its snug shell and adjusted it as jihyo revved her bike a couple times to warm it up.

wrapping your arms around her waist, you placed your feet up on the footrests and turned your head to the side, leaning down to rest it against her back.

the ride home felt like minutes thanks to jihyo’s aggressive speeding and weaving through crowded lanes.

you clung onto her for dear life when she would make sharp turns around a tight corner and gas it, a clear sign that you were in for a long night.

when you finally made it home, jihyo flipped the kickstand out with her foot and pulled her helmet off, her dark hair flowing out all at once.

you did the same, placing your helmet on the left handlebar and following her through your garage door.

jihyo headed upstairs without even looking back at you — she knew you wouldn’t be far behind.

when you reached the open door of your shared bedroom, you saw your girlfriend already shuffling through her nightstand, pulling out a pink silk tie that she only used when she intended on fucking you absolutely stupid.

“clothes off. you know what to do.” her tone sending chills down your spine as you stood frozen in place.

“no.” you said firmly — your heart beating out of your ribcage.

a deep sigh filled the room as she snapped her head in your direction, “no?”

jihyo walked towards you slowly, like a predator stalking her prey — her muscles flexing on full display with the black tank top she had on.

your breathing was sharp and uncontrolled, your fists clenched to keep yourself together.

you flinched when she raised her hand, landing it gently on your cheek and caressing your smooth skin with her thumb.

“sweet thing..” she mumbled, “but you don’t get to be a brat tonight.”

her hand suddenly left your cheek and found itself grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing a yelp out of you as she dragged you over to your shared bed.

jihyo slammed you face first into the soft comforter, holding your head down with her hand tangled in between your messy locks.

“you’ve been pretty bold lately.” you squirmed under her and tried to get up, but your efforts proved pointless when jihyo forced you back down as she straddled your lower back.

she practically ripped her jacket off of you as she grabbed your hands together and began wrapping the silk tie around your wrists.

“first you kiss some other bitch in front of me..” your squeals unaffecting her, “now you wanna talk back?” her skilled knot tying skills leaving your wrists locked with no escape, “seems like my sweet girl forgot who she really is.”

your skirt rode up your ass during your pathetic attempt at fighting back, accidentally revealing a prominent damp spot left in your panties.

“oh, you fucking like this.” jihyo scoffed, groping your thighs and slapping your ass a couple times.

small moans left you unwillingly, your horniness completely blinding you from what your original plan was.

“please..” you whined, slightly lifting your ass up for her in hopes that she would understand your signal.

“hm? now you’re begging for me?” she laughed darkly, “you’re nothin’ but a pretty fuckin’ slut.”

jihyo hooked her fingers through your panties and slid them down your legs, throwing them off to the side.

your legs were hanging off the bed in such a perfect position for jihyo to just take you right there.

she bent down and kissed your ass roughly, practically inhaling your flesh into her mouth.

you felt her sink her teeth into your lower thigh, making you wince at the sharp pain.

the same marks she left on your upper half were now tattooed across your lower — purple bruises appearing evenly on each one of your cheeks.

“fuck, just fuck me please. ‘need you so bad-”

you had no idea when she strapped the harness across her hips — too lost in the pleasure of her mouth on your skin, but when you looked over your shoulder, she stood there — pants off, strap on.

without any warning, she slid the full length of her silicone cock inside your poor pussy, not even allowing you any time to adjust.

she held your wrists together with one hand as she mercilessly pounded your tight hole.

the way you clenched around her strap left your pussy aching as you cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“ngh- wait! ji- stop.. ‘hurts too much..” you stuttered, desperately grabbing at her forearm, digging your nails into her skin.

the squelching sounds that echoed against the walls drowned out the chorus of moans that you and jihyo made.

your wrists were going numb from how tight the silk was wrapped around them, her hold on you preventing you from moving out of her grip.

“yeah? you wanna act like a slut? i’ll fuckin’ treat you like one.” jihyo groaned out in between heavy breaths, “ ‘js take it like the bitch you are.” she was using this opportunity to take out her built up stress on you.

she flipped your skirt up against your back, letting the flowy fabric wave erratically every time she thrusted into you.

in your fit of mewls and fucked out moans, you felt yourself getting close — your walls clenching around her strap, making it difficult for her to fuck you at the same speed.

“my bitch. tell me who you fucking belong to.” she growled.

your brain was beyond the point of functioning, coherent words impossible to form.

“y-you- mmph only you, fuck- ‘m all yours.”

the sound of your skin clapping against each other threw both of you over the edge, your struggled screams partially muffled as you pressed your head further into the sheets.

“only i can fuckin’ have you like this.”

jihyo fucked you through your orgasm as your back arched acrobatically, coming around her strap and soaking her lap with your juices.

you shakily cried out frantic begs and pleads as your legs went limp against the bed.

your girlfriend bucked her hips slowly a few more times to let you catch your breath, her ringtone suddenly blaring on the nightstand.

jihyo tsked at being bothered at such an inconvenient time, pulling out of you and reaching for her phone.

you whined at the emptiness, simultaneously slipping into a slightly drunken coma.

“you g’na answer that?” you asked breathlessly, expecting her to put her job first per usual as she you watched her stare at her screen, contemplating.

she shook her head and threw her phone back onto the wooden nightstand, “no. i have better things you to do.”

[tvgals]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ NO NUT NOVEMBER? I HARDLY KNOW HER!

awkward! gojo x black! boss! reader

— when staying after work during no nut november, awkward! gojo ends the month with a bang…

gojo was at his desk typing away at his computer, subconsciously ignoring the strain against his pants. gojo hadn’t touched himself in a month, him and a few of his friends doing a stupid ass nnn challenge. gojo was an idiot for accepting the challenge, knowing that almost everyday when he’d go home he’d stroke his dick to the thought of you, his boss. some days your tits would pop out of the top of your shirts, your ass poking out of the bottom of your skirts anytime you bent down to pick up a pen you dropped or a document, all the men in the office thirsted over your fat pussy lips on display.

“ah! hello satoru, what are you doing here so late?” you teasingly ask, walking up to him. “oh! i just-i just had to take care of some documents i forgot about!” gojo stammered, his eyes glued to his computer because he knows that if he looks up at you, his erection will be even more painful. “i see.” you nod, walking behind gojo, slowly trailing your acrylics along his shoulders, your tits pressing against the back of his head. “you’re doing such a good job.” you praise the ivory haired man, rubbing circles along his back. “thank you ma’am…” gojo sighs out, peering down at his dick, the blood flowing faster than ever.

“mhm. i’ll be in my office if you need anything, make sure to knock first.” you smirk, walking away. gojo heaved a sigh and slumped down in his seat, unzipping his pants. i mean, he could tug one right here and now. you were in your office, and gojo heard you locking the door. so if he were to get off to the thought of you in the office, you wouldn’t know. gojo unzipped his pants and shimmied them down a bit, his cock hitting just at his belly button with a thud. he groans, slapping a hand over his mouth with the other works at his cock. “shit shit shit.” gojo moaned, muffled by his hand. you were in your office scrolling away on instagram, your other hand digging around in a bag of chips. you decided it was time for gojo to head home for the night, he’d been working hard the whole week, it was only fair to give him a break.

you stood up and opened your door, your heels clacking against the tile floor. your face scrunched up in confusion as you heard meek moans and whines. you slowly converted into a smile, walking up to gojo as he stroked his dick even faster. “ah satoru, what am i going to do with you?” you tut mockingly, gojo immediately letting go of his dick and looking up at you with puppy eyes. “no no! it isn’t what it looks like, promise!” gojo cried out, trying to pull his pants back up. in a swift motion, you pull your leg up and pin gojo’s dick to his stomach with the toe of your heel. “oh shit!” gojo chokes out a strangled moan.

“now who do you think you are getting off in my office?” you snarl, putting more pressure onto his dick. “i’m sorry, ma’am! i just n-needed- i just needed relief!” gojo cried, fat tears streaming down his face. “my stupid little employee, what ever will i do with you?” you coo, retracting your foot from his dick. you hiked your skirt up and pulled your panties down, letting them fall to your ankles before stepping out of them. “w-what are you doing?..” gojo whispers, his eyes glued to your thighs. “teaching you a lesson. however will you learn to not touch yourself in my building?” you ask, unbuttoning your blouse to let your tits pop out freely. gojo’s breath starts to become more heavy and dense.

“i’m so- sorry! please ma’am, i’ll never come back!” gojo pleaded, his hands gripping at the handles of his chair. “oh no, you can stay as much as you want. it’s when you get too much free will, that’s my problem with you.” you say, staring into gojo’s eyes. you make your way in from of him, grasping his dick and slowly sinking down. gojo hisses and bucks his hips up involuntarily. “i’m sorry ma’am..” gojo whines, throwing his head back. you respond with a moan once you make it to the base. “feel so good already…” you laugh airily. gojo start breathing heavier and heavier, curling his toes in his work shoes. you open gojo’s computer and skim through a few documents, slowly rolling your hips onto his. “ah, satoru. these documents are all wrong!” you sigh out, now bouncing up and down onto his dick.

“‘m sorry, ma’am..i’m trying..” gojo whined, moving a hand to grab the fat of your hip. “apparently not hard enough.” you mumble to yourself, bringing gojo’s other hand that was grasping his chair to pinch your nipple. “doing so good f’me baby..” you mewl, trying to keep focused on the documents. “thank you so much..been thinking about this for years almost…all th-this time i’ve worked here…always had my..my eyes on you.” gojo admitted, you still bouncing on his cock. “you had all of these chances, satoru. what happened?” you ask, deleting all of gojo’s hard work. “was scared…i d-didn’t know how to talk to you…” gojo said, feeling his high approaching. you giggled to yourself, the gojo who barely talked to people at work and who often ate lunch alone in his car wanted you.

“i see..” you mumble, the feeling of satoru’s tip hitting your cervix becoming too much. “‘m gonna cum! please ma’am!” gojo practically screamed, arching his back. “give it to me, baby. cmon.” you coax gojo, feeling his hand move from your tit and to start vigorously rubbing your clit. you moaned out at the extra stimulation, feeling yourself let go. “shit- pl-please keep cumming..” gojo whined, slamming his cock upwards into you. gojo came with a whine, both of his hands gripping at your hips.

“g-good boy..” you praised gojo, loving the way his dick twitched inside of you. “t-thank you ma’am..” gojo cries out, feeling you stand up off of his dick. “don’t mention it.” you sigh out. “here, wear these tomorrow. i’ll check.” you demand, throwing your black lacy panties at him, walking back to your office. gojo nodded silently and turned back to his computer, his eyes widening at all the work that was lost by you. looks like he’ll have to stay later tomorrow.

TAGLIST —

@looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @chinaza444 @baboon-milk333 @marcelineormars @mxspiderman2099 @ts1mp0ne @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @spiderheartzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie @tourbug @anikaluv @mainvamp @strawberryshortcake143 @spectr3inl0ve @anitatvd @yuckyygutz @janaeby @milesmoralesesposa @lily-pythonz @naijagrl @ninaaaazzzz @sucuretcannelle @captaincyberqueen @cafehyunji @gtsflawless @v1rtu4lsworld

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ the letters ; cc13

➪ summary: with cole being gone, sometimes it gets a little hard to keep up with the mess of the holidays. but he always makes sure that they'll continue the tradition that has happened since they were kids.

➪ warnings: none... i don't think

➪ word count: 1.1k

➪ cupid's notes: part of ho ho hockey! i changed the summary of this fic so many times. i originally had it as a dash and lily hockey spin off but then it made my head hurt so i changed it, and then i changed it five time after that. and also lowkey this isn't the best thing i've written so let's ignore that, please.

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

It was a tradition that had been in her and Cole’s family since they were born. Every year, even when they were just babies, their parents would write them a letter to open up and read. It usually consisted of funny memories that had happened throughout the year, achievements that they’ve had (their first word, they walked, graduated preschool, etc.), and always at the end there would be words of encouragement and telling them how much they loved them. It was her favorite part about Christmas.

They didn’t stop it even as they went off to college and Cole moved to Montreal. It didn’t stop when she graduated college and she moved in with Cole. It didn’t stop when they started dating, it didn’t stop when they didn’t see them for Christmas, and it wouldn’t stop now. Even when Cole and y/n were just starting the tradition as parents.

It would be their first Christmas since their son was born, and the pressure of continuing the tradition weighed on their shoulders. Y/n sat at their kitchen counter, head in her hands as she soaked up the quietness that surrounded her. She had just woken up to Oliver crying, getting up to go calm him down and get him back to bed. 

She made her way out to the kitchen, quickly realizing that there was no way she was getting herself back to sleep, especially after seeing what time it was and knowing that Cole would be home soon. She made herself a cup of coffee, sipping it slowly as she stared at the door, almost like she was willing him to walk through it. 

It had been a long few days for her and her son, Cole was gone on the start of the Canadiens road trip that would pick up after the holiday break, and she had to finish up some last-minute Christmas shopping and baking. She was utterly exhausted, but she had to wait until Cole got home so they could write the letter together, something the two of them had been looking forward to since they found out she was pregnant. 

It was late into the night when she heard the door unlocking, looking up from her almost empty cup of coffee and the blank sheet of paper that sat next to it, seeing Cole step through the door with messy hair and his bag slung over his coat-clad shoulder. 

She watched as he slipped his shoes off, placing his bag down next to them. When he finally looked up from the ground, his eyes landed on her tired form. Immediately his eyes softened and his lips turned down slightly, moving over to her, “Hey sweetheart.”

“Hi,” her voice was soft, laced with sleep as she leaned into his side, head resting on his chest.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Missed you.”

“Missed you too, baby.” He pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, “I’m gonna go change and then we can do that if you want,” He gestured to the paper and the pen. 

She only nodded in response, resting her head on her arms as she watched him walk towards their bedroom. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Before she knew it, Cole was coming back out of their bedroom, now dressed in a random pair of old shorts and one of her favorite Canadiens sweatshirts of his. She smiled at the sight of him, opening her arms and bringing him into a hug once he got close enough to her.

“Did you watch the game?” He let his hands slip under the shirt she was wearing, 

“Yeah, Ollie slept through most of it.”

“How long has he been asleep now?”

She glanced over at the clock before looking up at him, “15 minutes.”

“M’sorry baby, wish I could be here more to help.”

Y/n just shook her head, “Don’t. It’s okay, you’re a good dad, Cole. You’re going to have so many moments with him, and trust me, you’re not missing anything.”

His grip on her tightened, burying his head into her hair as he stood there. The two just hugged each other in silence for the next few moments before he pulled away, reaching for the pen and sitting down next to her. 

They stared at the paper for a while, both unsure of what to actually write. After ten minutes, the two shared a glance and immediately busted out laughing, unable to catch their breaths.

When they finally calmed themselves down, y/n sighed, reaching over to take the pen from her boyfriend’s hand, “I don’t know how our parents managed to do this every year, it feels so awkward.”

More minutes passed by, the two only exchanging soft words of ideas that were swirling in their minds. Yet as soon as she pressed the pen to the paper and started writing, all thoughts evaporated into thin air as she wrote. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, exactly how she felt, even if he wouldn’t be able to read it Christmas morning, he could look back on it.

She was done with the page before she handed it to Cole, an embarrassed grin as she did so. He raised an eyebrow, turning the paper over slowly, “Get a little carried away there?”

“Shut up and write. Though there’s no telling how well he’s going to be able to read it.” She teased, pushing him slightly.

“Hey! My handwriting is not that bad!”

“Really? Because I think I still have the card from our anniversary last year that definitely does not say my name on it.”

“It does too! I wrote it letter for letter. I think I write and say your name enough for me to know what it is.”

“Tell that to my card then.”

He rolled his eyes, a grin still plastered on his face as he reached over and tickled her sides. She squealed, jumping up and trying to get away from him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down into his lap.

She leaned into him, kissing his cheek as she settled in her new ‘seat’. It was only a few minutes after when she heard the soft cries coming from Oliver’s bedroom, groaning in response.

“You go get some more sleep, baby.” He slid her off his lap, patting her butt once her feet hit the ground, “I’ll get him to bed and I’ll finish writing this letter, then I’ll come find you.”

She nodded, kissing him before walking into their bedroom, curling up in the messy sheets.Maybe Cole’s schedule wasn’t the most convenient, but that didn’t mean they would have to stop doing traditions or the letters, or any of it. They’d make it work, they always did.

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Disillusioned 22 . Pen Pals

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_____,

I don’t understand why you prefer such a bothersome way of communication when we have communication devices but if it’s what you want. 

We have successfully acquired the earth attribute power that White Star is looking for. It’s currently in my possession but I did not absorb it so you don’t have to worry about my plate. I’ll explain everything to you once we see each other. The trial to get this power was in the form of battling a giant snake that can lure people by playing with their feelings such as sorrow. The sight wasn’t pretty. It was gruesome, something you wouldn’t want to see.

However, the ending sight was a spectacle. The way the snake turned into flower petals was quite pretty. I think you would have liked to see it for yourself. Nonetheless, you should stay there where it is safe. Ron has told you that he left some of the members of the Molan household in your care. Don’t hesitate to use them at your disposal.

Sincerely,

Cale

Dear Cale,

Thank you for indulging my whims and using letters as our way to communicate. I prefer it this way as this puts no pressure on you to respond immediately. As for my end of things, I’m doing fine. I hope you are too. Territory work is a lot harder than I anticipated. Paperwork is easy, as I’ve learned a lot from our time in Mogoru. However, everything else is physically taxing. Despite that, it’s manageable as I have a lot of people helping me. 

Again, please take your time. Whether it’s about responding to my letters or explaining your secrets to me. You can take it slow. Remember that I’ll just be here waiting whenever you are waiting.

Please stay safe and always take care of your health. I will be waiting until the next time I hear from you again.

Sincerely,

_____

Dear Count Perduellio,

Remember when we talked about giving the Dark Elves their territory? I have some great news to share with you. Thanks to the help of my younger brother, we might have a chance to acquire the Land of Death. If everything goes according to plan, the Dark Elves will be able to live aboveground soon. Until then, I shall trust you to take care of them.

As for other news, I am sure you have heard about Cale Henituse’s status right now in the Caro Kingdom. Fear not for he is safe. In fact, that punk is energetic enough to treat the crown prince’s bedroom as if it were his own. He’s currently eating my cookies as I write this letter.

That’s all I can share for now. I will update you if other news comes my way.

Sincerely,

Alberu Crossman

Dear Crown Prince Alberu,

I’m delighted to hear such news. It would be great if the Roan Kingdom could give the Dark Elves the Land of Death as they are already familiar with it. As for the Dark Elves within my care, they are also doing well. They have started to settle in the homes we have provided for them and have initiated socializing with the other residents. So far all of them are living in harmony. Children playing, the market bustling, humans and Dark Elves becoming friends. All of this is happening without discrimination.

Of course, I shall observe some more to make sure that all is going positively. However, Your Highness, can you write such brash words? If anyone else were to read your letter it would surely tarnish the reputation of our rising sun a little bit. Good thing we send our letters through special means that will keep their secrecy.

I hope the crown’s endeavours will go splendidly. I shall await more news once it arrives.

Sincerely,

_____ Perduellio

_____,

Have you been doing well? You’ve probably heard from his highness that I am fine despite what the rumours say. There are some things I found out that left me with more questions than answers. To solve that I will be visiting the World Tree. I only wrote this letter to inform you of that, so you won’t worry if ever you can’t contact me.

Sincerely,

Cale

Dear Cale,

I am doing well for the most part. But my body feels heavy these days along with a headache that will come and go. Don’t worry, the healer said it’s probably because of the weather and from me staring at documents too much. It will pass soon. 

You’re going to visit the World Tree? Be careful on your travels. I hope you get the answers you are looking for.

Sincerely,

_____

Dear Count _____,

I have heard from my eldest child that you are not feeling well. Some instances cannot be helped, but you must take care of yourself as much as possible. Do not be afraid to let your retainers and servants shoulder some of the work. You did not clean them up for nothing after all. 

After hearing about your condition I have ordered someone to send you some herbal tea that will help with your headaches. It can also improve your sleep quality. I would like to be there myself, but alas I must stay in the duchy for now.

I will make sure to visit you the first chance I get. Until then, take care of yourself and your health.

Sincerely,

Violan Henituse

Dear Duchess Violan,

I have received the herbal tea you have sent and truly works wonders. Some of my headaches are elevated and my sleep has improved these days. I shall use this tea well as thanks for your generosity. 

As another way to give my thanks, I have sent out a sample of a gem we are currently refining. The design is still in its early stage that’s why it may look a bit rough. I will make sure to send you another one once it’s complete. 

Sincerely,

_____ Perduellio

Dear _____-nim,

Good day _____-nim, are you doing well? Everyone in the duchy is worried about you as you have not responded to any of our letters for a while now. While taking care of work I have also noticed that the Perduellio Territory’s security has gotten tighter. They seem to be keeping something hush.

We are all worried about your silence. I sincerely hope that you are doing well and was just too busy to respond.

Please respond as soon as possible,

Basen Henituse

Dear Duke Henituse,

Good day duke, you may not be familiar with me so I shall introduce myself. I am Viscount Legalem, one of Count Perduellio’s retainers. I am sending this letter to inform you of the count’s condition. Our dear count has fallen unconscious and will not wake up. 

That may make you wonder why I am sending you a letter instead of contacting you through a communication device. I have three reasons to do so; (1) I want to respect Count _____’s decision. They have told me to contact you by letter if it’s not an emergency. I would like to honour that child’s decisions; (2) As I mentioned it is not an emergency, our healers have checked on them and said that nothing is wrong internally and they would be fine even in an unconscious state, and; (3) I have been told by Count _____ to contact either you or Commander Cale if something happens to them. I have no way of contacting the commander which is why I have turned to you.

Our healers and other experts who have checked on Count _____’s condition have found nothing wrong. However, I am still worried as they are not waking up no matter what we do. Thankfully, they are not injured, cursed, or poisoned. Regretfully, we still have not found the reason as to why they are unconscious.

The territory itself is doing well even in the absence of our count. Count _____ has always made sure to get ahead of their work as they said they aren’t sure when the commander will call for them. Nonetheless, our territory would very much appreciate it if you could lend some of your healers and experts to assess our count’s condition. A second opinion would be beneficial to see if our healers have missed anything.

Sincerely,

Viscount Legalem

[mynicosensesaretingling]

hiii ! I saw your post about the elections , i hope you’ll be okay over there even with those results ! Could i request a oneshot or some HC about brocedes with a reader who’s really burnout and struggling through med school ? If writing about the brocedes together is a no-no for you, just lewis or max would be just as fine ! take care ! 👋 from France

thank you for your request and the warmest greetings back to you! 💓

Here are your HCs, I hope you enjoy them:

-Nico immediately notices when you’re feeling off. His sharp attention to detail extends beyond the track, and he’s always quick to check in with you. He’ll sit you down with a cup of tea and listen to you vent, making sure you feel heard.

-If everything becomes too much to you, he gladly takes on the role of the planner, trying to organize a “study schedule” for you , complete with color-coded breaks. He’s determined to help you balance work and rest. He swears by his "methodical approach" and keeps saying, "Efficiency is the key to success!" like it’s his personal mantra. Knowing full well that burnout is something you can’t push through. He even plans study breaks filled with distractions to get you out of your head.

-If he’s not with you, expect him to send you motivational messages at random times. “Just one more chapter, you’ve got this! 💪” and “The finish line is in sight! Proud of you.” He’s very big on helping you visualize success.

-Lewis has been through the highs and lows of intense pressure, so he’s always dropping little nuggets of wisdom about mental strength and perseverance, making it his mission to remind you to not be so hard on yourself.

-When he finds out you’re overworking yourself, he’ll say things like, “You wouldn’t want me to race an F1 car at full speed every day without maintenance, right? So why are you doing that to yourself?”

-Expect Lewis to show up with (vegan) treats or comfort food, gently reminding you that self-care is just as important as studying.

-Despite their rivalry on the track, Nico and Lewis put all of that aside to create a support system for you. They understand what it means to be under immense pressure, so they tag-team in making sure you don’t fall too deep into a burnout.

-They most likely just push their way into your apartment with such ease, like this wasn’t the first time they’d interrupted your study sessions.

-Nico is more practical, offering to help you with organization and structure, while Lewis is all about positive energy and mental health. Together, they provide a well-rounded support system, making sure you feel supported both mentally and physically.

-They’d likely throw in some playful banter between them just to make you smile. “Don’t let Nico make you study too hard; remember who won the most races,” Lewis might say, with Nico replying, “You can’t meditate your way through med school, Lewis. Trust me, the best way to succeed is with a plan.” Lewis, shoots him a cheeky grin,“Yeah? How’d your plan go in 2016? Oh right, you retired after one win.” Throwing a pen at Lewis, Nico laughs. “I’m still a world champion. And unlike you, I don’t make people meditate through stressful situations.”

-They plan a "med school pit stop" day, where they whisk you away for an entire day of fun and relaxation. Whether it’s a day trip to a spa, a race day, or just chilling at home with movies and food, they make sure you’re not thinking about school for at least a few hours.