#yall like smut

[constablequodo]

WWDITS fans write more than just smut for any Laszlo ship challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

[buckiverse]

Lessons

☆--- paring: zayne x reader

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

☆--- word count: 9.9k

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

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

↳ xavier | sylus | caleb | rafayel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You:

“Can I call you? I need some advice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

“Okay,” he confirmed calmly.

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

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

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

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

☆

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

Zayne:

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

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

You:

“Got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

You hadn’t expected this.

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

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

“Lesson one,” he murmured. “A date.”

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

A small, knowing smile touched his lips.

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

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

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

Your heart squeezed.

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

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

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

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

His gaze lifted, catching yours.

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

And so the night went on.

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

Maybe that was why—

—why you ended up tipsy.

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

And then—

"You're drunk."

His voice was strained.

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

His breath hitched.

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

Darkness.

And then—morning.

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

The memory came rushing back.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.

What did you do?

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

Zayne:

“Are you feeling better?”

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

You:

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

And from there the conversation flowed. 

Zayne: 

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

You:

“Duh.”

☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You always do,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This man was everything.

☆

Later That Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☆

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

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

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

With him.

So, he invited you over after work.

Zayne:

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

You:

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

…

Zayne:

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

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

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

He had kept them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he was making you crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart ached at how thoughtful he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The movie played, but you weren’t watching.

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

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

Click.

Ring…Ring…Ring…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched.

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

You swallowed. Say it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His attention was all yours, and it was thrilling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—release.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Please” you breathed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t move right away.

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

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

And then, he moved.

A slow, deliberate roll of his hips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of you spoke right away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think you already have," you whispered.

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

And you didn’t want him to.

Not now.

Not ever.

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[shouyuus]

Hear me out on this🤚🏼 vi and reader arguing over something stupid and reader says something sideways that’s like Loki kinda freaky and vis like oh yeah mf and then boom freaky time but a bit of rough talk so vi can get reader to admit she’s right???

hahahahahahah /gunshots/ this grew legs and ran off on its own omfg; hope u enjoy!!! also credit where credit is due i immediately thought of this textpost when i saw this ask so. 18+, mdni dom/slightly mean!vi, college roommate!vi cinematic universe

"fuck you."

"no fuck you -- y'know what -- why don't you just edge me into next tuesday -- that'd be less painful --"

"i --" vi blinks, staring at you as you run your hands through your hair, still mumbling to yourself, apparently entirely unaware of the change your words have just wrought in her.

a spate of desire twists knife-sharp in her gut as vi imagines pressing you in half, a hand wrapped around your throat the other teasing between your legs, the way your hips might jump if she curled her fingers just so.

she wonders how quick she could get you begging; she wonders, a second later, how quick it'd get her on the edge when here she is, careening towards it at the mere thought of taking you apart.

"ugh -- whatever, i have to get back to my research paper -- i don't have time to --"

vi's arm shoots out and she's got her fingers wreathed around your wrist before she can stop herself. your alarmed look catches like a spark in the dry-grass tickle of her stomach and suddenly there's heat pluming up the back of her neck like smoke as she backs you into the apartment wall, licking her lips as she watches confusion and the hazy sheen of unmistakable want flicker to light behind your eyes.

"v-vi?"

she almost shivers. she thinks it's a testament to how well she's always treated you that you don't sound frightened -- only curious, and a little surprised.

"we're not done here, princess -- and i don't really think i like it when you try to walk away from me like that," she whispers, leaning in close enough to feel the way your breath stutters in your chest.

"vi -- i don't -- this isn't --"

but her questioning smirk as she pulls back silences the stumbling words on your lips as your cheeks go dark and your eyes cut away from hers.

"aww, c'mon princess --" and this time, she leans into the word like it might be an insult, doesn't miss the way your lashes flutter or the way your breathing's shallowed out to small little hitches, or the fact that you're stock still against the wall, even though her grip is light and there's nothing to stop you from pulling away.

"where's that fire from a second ago? weren't you just calling me a bad roommate for always forgetting to run the dishwasher before i leave?"

you swallow, the bob in your throat making her heart skitter up her ribcage like climbing up monkey bars.

"that... okay fine -- that was mean -- but it's not like i was lying about the --" your voice pitches as you look back up at her, and for a second, the hard light in your eyes catches again, only to sputter out as you meet her gaze for the second time, a guttering candle to a winter's breeze. vi bites back a grin. this is too easy.

"mm, but it still hurt my feelings, princess..." vi coos, leaning in to brush her lips by your cheek, reveling in the way you tremble beneath her, "and really, i don't think i'm that bad of a roommate, right? i take care of you, don't i?"

the moment her lips catch the lobe of your ear, you let out a soft whimper that makes vi's vision tilt sideways. and before she knows it, she's sucking a dark hickey into the skin of your neck and your fingers are fisting in her hair, making her groan.

she sinks her teeth into your skin, pulling back to pin you bodily to the wall, pressing a leg up between yours just to hear you keen.

"admit it -- don't i take good care of you?"

you whine through pursed lips, your eyes glazed out as you frown up at her, nodding faintly. she grins, feeling the heady, full-body rush of knowing she's got you right where she's been wanting you for weeks, for months.

"c'mon, say it --" she teases her free hand down the length of your body to flip up the hem of the large t-shirt you're wearing (it's one of hers; the thought catches her off-guard like punch to the side, the knowledge of it wringing through her with a bell-toll of desire) to skim along the hem of your cotton panties.

"y-you're -- you're not a bad roommate -- vi --" you twitch as she dips her fingers into the waistband of your panties and slicks a finger between your folds, hissing out at how wet you already are.

vi's grin is sour-candy-cyanide as she pulls back, her gaze half-lidded as she watches you chewing on your bottom lip.

"god, princess -- did that turn you on?" she asks, though both of you know the question is useless and purely rhetorical. she swallows down a thick moan as she inches a finger between your messy cunt lips to tease at your entrance. your answering huff only makes her chuckle, and this time, she does groan out when she finally eases her finger into you, feeling your hot, wet walls flutter around her, making her own cunt twinge with want.

"mm... i think i'd still like a formal apology -- tell you what," she says, putting on a false, considerate air even as she teases her finger in and out of you, nice and slow, almost thoughtlessly as she cocks her head, "admit that you were wrong and... we'll call it even, yeah?"

immediately, she sees you stiffen, feels you clench down around her as your eyes snap up. you've always hated admitting you were wrong, and even when you have apologized in the past, you've always danced around the words. and vi had thought it was just a cute little quirk of yours, chalked it up to your massive brain -- it must be so hard for someone so smart, so used to be in unequivocally correct all the time to admit, out loud, that they'd been mistaken.

a rush of heat crests into her chest at the thought, and she quirks her finger inside you to brush against the tender spot she knows will get your eyes rolling.

and it does, but not before you give your head a tiny, obdurate shake.

vi sighs, licking her lips as she brushes her thumb against your clit and watches, with a thrumming satisfaction, as your mouth falls open around a silent moan.

"just three little words, princess -- and then... i promise, i'll make you feel so good..." she croons the words into your ear, shudders at the thought of making you cum, of how good you'd look shaking over her fingers. "unless," she hums, "you really would like me to edge you into next tuesday, which --" she makes a noncommittal sound, "saturday afternoon and i've got early morning practice tomorrow, but i'm sure something can be arranged."

you let out another debauched moan as she bullies a second finger into your wet heat, still fucking them into you at that mind-bogglingly slow pace. you try to arch your hips, but her other hand slams you back against the wall.

she tuts, leaning back ever so slightly.

"uh-uh, i don't think so."

you scowl and try to shove at her shoulder, but there's no strength in the motion and the hand on your hip flashes up a second later to grab both your wrists, pinning them above your head in a single fluid move.

it happens so quickly you barely have time to gasp before she's leaning forward again, her words hot as she murmurs into your ear --

"go on, princess, try to fight back -- give me a reason to get rough with you."

at once, you still, but the you give both your wrists an experimental tug, only for vi to tighten her hold. you can't quite stop the moan that works its way out of your throat, nor can you control the way your pussy slickens impossibly around her fingers as she laughs, the sound caught somewhere between amused and mocking.

"gonna admit that you were wrong, princess?" she asks, crooking an eyebrow.

you press your lips and whine, looking away. her fingers pump a few more times inside you, her thumb finding your clit with truly disarming ease.

"vi -- f-fuck --!" you yelp as she flicks her thumb and your whole body jolts, electric tendrils of pleasure ricocheting through you, harsh as a loose bullet.

"there y'go... c'mon -- be a good girl and say it --" vi can't quite stop the way her voice frays around the edges as she leans in to ghost her lips over yours, her vision tunneling as she starts to fuck you with her fingers proper, working them into you in tandem with the rhythm of your hips, watching as you expression falls slack.

"mm -- nnngh -- please, vi -- i --"

"ah... that's pretty good but... still not an apology," she muses, slowing her pace again, dragging both her fingers along your inner walls, pressing them up, watching as your eyes squeeze shut, your entire body jerking as she massages your clit from both ends.

"i -- i'm s-sorry, 'm sorry, i -- i was wrong -- fuck -- oh -- shit, that feels -- v-vi --!"

"thereee you go... that wasn't so hard, was it?" vi soothes, picking up the pace, grinning as you keen, your knees nearly giving out, but she's got you held up by your wrists, her thigh still slotted between yours, her fingers plowing into you till you're almost writhing against her.

she lets out a long groan, low and thick, a panting gasp working out of her as she fucks you through your orgasm, watching with soft-eyed wonder as you whimper, your whole body twitching with the aftershocks.

"hey, hey, princess -- you still with me?" she asks, letting go of your wrists in favor of cupping your cheek, swiping a tender thumb along your skin. you lean into her touch, your head lolling ever so slightly as your lashes flutter and you fight to focus your eyes.

"y-yeah -- think so..."

vi laughs, slowly tugging her fingers from you, unable to keep a grin from twisting at the corner of her mouth as you shudder at the loss.

"jesus, princess..." she says, holding up her hand -- there's wetness slicking down the back of her hand all the way to her wrist. you blink at it for a second before a tiny, embarrassed scowl digs itself between your brows.

"i -- you --"

vi laughs, shaking out her hand and reaching for an errant napkin on the dining table to wipe down her fingers.

"no, no -- i'm not makin' fun -- it's actually kinda hot."

you purse your lips, cheeks stained damson as she watches you readjust your panties, tugging on the hem of her large t-shirt.

"still think i'm a bad roommate?" vi asks, biting back a smile, her heart caught somewhere in the back of her throat.

you look up, eyes bright, your head already shaking.

"no! i -- that was --" your head drops back down even as your shoulders shrug up, "i... i was just annoyed but i -- i didn't mean it --"

a beat, in which vi finishes cleaning off her hand and strides over to throw the wad of napkin in the trash.

"i... i'm sorry," you say, your voice small.

vi looks up to find you watching her from beneath your lashes.

"'s okay, princess. apology accepted." she smiles, and this time there's no poison hidden in it's corners, only the steady sweetness you've come to know her for.

"i -- uhm --" you clear your throat, still worrying at the hem of the shirt. vi cocks her head.

"i can make it up to you... if you want --" you say, barely meeting her eyes.

vi pauses, her eyebrows kicking up. a second later, she's grinning again, rolling back her shoulders and leaning into one of her hips.

"yeah? and... how'dyou propose you do that?"

you bite down on your bottom lip and jerk your head towards the open door of your bedroom, even as vi's stomach gives an unruly lurch at the clear implication.

she fights to keep her expression flat as she looks you over.

"damn, princess -- you really weren't kidding about that tuesday-thing, huh?"

you crinkle your nose, sniffing slightly, even as vi brushes by you, breezing into your bedroom and plopping herself onto your bed with a satisfied sigh. you follow her in a moment later, climbing on after her and giving her shoulder a tiny shove so that she's backed up against the apartment wall and you've got room to straddle her lap.

"well... i have been thinking about it for... for a while," you admit, your voice soft as you thumb at the collar of her shirt.

vi groans, her palms settling around your waist, fingers digging into the plush of your ass.

"yeah? oh fuck -- ah --" she jerks as you trail your hands down her front, pausing to tease her nipples over the material of her shirt.

"mhm..."

"what else have you been imagining in that big, beautiful brain of yours, hm?" vi asks, breath hitching as you tug the shirt from her and lean down to ghost your mouth over her hardening nipples, tongue flickering out to tease at the cold metal piercings.

"lotsa stuff," you say, almost casual as you wiggle down to settle yourself comfortably between her legs, glancing up at her with what can only be called a chesire-grin --

"w-wanna tell me about it?" vi asks, reaching up a hand to run her fingers through your hair. you hum, laving a tongue against her nipple before sucking the entire thing into your mouth.

a groan punches out of her as she shudders, her head tipping back with a dull thunk against the apartment wall.

"i could... but it'd be so much faster if i just... showed you, no?"

[yourstrulysylus]

[choccy-milky]

from my new oneshot, 'the vexing village of vellmore' ✨ ao3 / wattpad ((it's about seb & clora visiting a cursed village and trying to figure out how to break the curse, and since it ended up being 50k words i decided to split it into 2 chapters and the next part will be out soon!🙏 also, while it does have spoilers for the raven and the snake, it's a standalone story and can be read blind💖))

[euniexenoblade]

"I'm not a girl!" - a transfem forcefem story

Hi hi hi hi, note that the premise of this is essentially an egg being cracked by an older woman, so there's a lot of he/him and "boy" useage. But stick with it please, I assure you the end is worth getting to :) also don't be mean about any weird grammar I literally wrote this in a couple of hours for free. Be nice.

----

The boy stood there against the wall holding a red solo cup, looking down at the floor, overwhelmed from alcohol and loud booming music of the party. He had watched his drunken roommate drive off with a date – his ride home was gone. He didn't know any of these people, his roommate insisted he come to this party to meet new people, and now he was all alone. Panic and anxiety swarmed his thoughts. He was drunk, he'd never been drunk before. He was fairly far from home, could he walk home like this? He doesn't know any of these people, would any help him if he asked for a ride home? He doesn't ask, though, he just stands against the wall, looking down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone there, trying his best not to panic.

A moment of bravery, the boy looks up from the floor to scan the party to see if there was anyone that looked like they'd be approachable. To his dismay it all looked like drunken college kids talking, dancing, being obnoxious, people he felt too scared to talk to. His eyes flow from one side of the room to the other, noting nothing interesting. That is, until he sees a tall woman standing with a group of girls. Long legs under a short skirt being the first thing to catch his attention, but before long he noticed her wearing a band tee that was so tight it was straining against her chest, causing him to stare at her chest from afar. For a brief moment, he is distracted from his anxiety with drunken horniness. That is until he finally notices, she's staring back at him.

The boy freaks out. He doesn't want to offend anyone, especially drunken party goers. He decides it's finally time to head for the door across the room, but as soon as he moves towards it, he collides with some other drunken guy. His drink spills all down his clothes, the other guy getting none of the splash back. They apologize to each other, and the guy walks away leaving the boy alone in the party again. He looks down at what was once his favorite shirt, now potentially stained and ruined. He's angry he let his roommate talk him into this, he just looked like a dork and felt more out of place than he usually did.

“Are you going to clean up or are you just going to be a mess for everyone to see?” a voice whispers in his ear from behind.

He jumps around and finds the lady he had been staring at so intently greeting him with a smile. “Um, I, uh,-”

The woman grabs him by the wrist, “Bathroom's this way, silly.” She drags him to the hallway and opens a door, and pushes him in before coming in herself and locking the door. He stands there in the middle of the bathroom, staring at this woman in shock, unsure of what to say. She looks at him blankly, “What are you doing? Take your shirt off so we can try to save it.”

He gets nervous again, “I...uh...I don't really like being shirtless.”

The woman scoffs, “Such a child. You were about to cry in the middle of a party when you noticed your shirt was stained, take the damn thing off.”

Nerves or not, it's hard to say no when an older woman tells you to do something. "I wasn't going to cry," he mumbles as he pulls his shirt off. Before he can do anything with it, she snatches it from him, fills the sink with water, pulls a small cleaner bottle out from the bag she had been carrying under her arm, and starts working it into the shirt. “I know the guy that lives here. He's always throwing these stupid parties to feel cooler than he is. There's never anything interesting happening at these parties. Just drunken college losers.” He sits down on the side of the tub, letting the random woman do the work he didn't really know how to do. “That is, until I saw some pathetic perv about to cry in the middle of one.”

“Hey!” He yells without thinking, “I am not a perv!”

“Oh? Then why were you staring at my tits?”

“I, uh, um, I don't think that's, uh very pervy. I mean, Isn't it kind of normal?”

She turns around, a big smirk on her face. “Aw, someone's embarrassed about her perviness.”

He notices the pronoun she used, but decides to ignore it. “So, uh, can I have my shirt back? I don't feel well and I want to go home.”

“Sorry sweetie, it needs to go through the wash and dry. You can just go like that. This is basically a frat boy party, no one's gonna think a shirtless guy is weird.”

He considers it. “I'd rather not, even if my shirt is wet.”

She stares at him as if he said something incredibly stupid. “Ok, fine.” She grabs the bottom of her shirt with both hands and somehow pulls it free from her body, her breasts only concealed by a black lacy bra. She tosses the shirt at him, “There you go, a fresh shirt to go home in.”

“I c-can't wear this, it's a g-girl's shirt. They'll make fun of me...”

“Huh? Nothing about it is inherently girly. It's a concert shirt. And these dorks are so drunk they won't notice a thing.”

“I. Uh.” He's overheating. Overwhelmed again from the alcohol, the booming music, and a situation with a girl he's never been in before. But, above all else he's struggling with the realization that he's fully erect at the idea of wearing her clothes. “I. I. I can't. If peo-if people see-”

“Oh I see, wearing girl clothes turns you on, huh?”

His whole face turns red. Embarrassed is an understatement. He doesn't know how to respond. He's frozen.

“Aw, how cute. Strip.”

“WH-WHAT?!”

“I said strip. Take your pants and underwear off now.”

“N-N-NO! WHY WOULD I??”

“You're going to do what I tell you or I'm going to push you back into the hallway shirtless, and you can navigate what ever feelings that makes you feel.”

The boy's confused. That's not really a punishment. Anyone not wanting this situation would easily accept that. Even with being uncomfortable shirtless around people, he could deal with it to get out of a weird situation with a woman like this. But, despite that, he found himself standing up straight, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling them and his boxers down. His body on full display for her, his cock fully erect, which he tries to hide with his hands as his face gets incredibly red again.

“Good girl.”

“I'm not a girl!” he yells back.

“Not yet, maybe.” She reaches up her skirt, and loops her fingers around the ends of her panties and slowly pulls them down. He watches her, confused and excited, and for a split second he can see from under the skirt that she has a dick. The boy looks away, pretending not to have seen.

“Aw, adorable. I'll make a girl out of you for sure.”

“I'm not a girl!”

She sticks her hand out, her black lacy panties hanging from one finger.

“Put them on.” She says.

“WH-WHAT?? NO, I can't, absolutely not!”

Her demeanor doesn't change. She just keeps looking at him with an intense stare. “Put them on, now. I will not repeat myself again.”

Once again, it's an easy situation to walk away from. He doesn't have to listen. He can grab his clothes and go. As she said, everyone's drunk, no one will likely noticed he came out of the bathroom naked. But, as before, he does as he's told. He takes the panties from her hand, and slowly slides them up his legs, his fully erect cock making the most noticeable bulge.

“Now you won't be so concerned about wearing my shirt, will you?” He doesn't reply. He's standing there in this woman's panties, feeling emasculated.

“How are you getting home?” the woman finally asks.

“I, uh, I guess I was going to walk.”

“Oh sweetheart, not in this state you aren't. I'll drive you.” Once again, he doesn't argue, he's already so embarrassed and overwhelmed he just avoids making eye contact and nods. "Now put on your clothes.”

He pulls his jeans on over the panties and puts her shirt on, noticing that it fits him remarkably well. “She was definitely wearing this to show off her boobs” he thinks to himself. Once he's dressed, she grabs his boxers and wraps the wet, cleaned shirt in them and places them in her bag. She unlocks the door and once again, grabs him by the wrist and pulls him with her. He doesn't resist, his will is beaten down too much, and a ride home sounds ideal. Just as she said, none of the drunk people even notice that he's wearing her shirt, all they notice is that she's topless now. “Haha yeah I spilled a drink!” she says, which is enough to make these people nod and ignore her. No one even notices him, or the fact he's wearing her panties. A fact that's getting his cock even harder.

The woman pulls him outside and guides him until they finally reach her car. She only finally let's go of him so he can get in the passenger seat, making him feel like a little kid being lead around. He's finally free to just sit down, something he's longed for all night, he collapses into the seat, finding such comfort in her car. She gets in the driver's seat. “So, where do you live.” He mumbles the address to her, so drunk and so comfortable that he's having a hard time staying awake. She plugs the address into her phone and seems ready to go. She turns on the car, loud music comes on as she does, overwhelming the boy again. The car doesn't move. He doesn't care though, he's barely awake. The comfortable seats feel like a new home for him to melt into. And, as he's starting to drift away to his dreamland, he jolts awake, she's rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“WH-WH-WHA”

“Aw, my sweet girl, you got so excited wearing my cute panties through that crowd of people didn't you.”

“St-stop, w-what if someone sees?!”

“Then they'll see me playing with a pervy girl.”

“I'M NOT A GI-” he couldn't finish, instead erupting into a moan as her hand went beneath his jeans and stroked him through the lacy panties. The softness of the panties felt so good on him.

“That's a good girl, quiet down and let me reward you.”

Once again, he was red. He couldn't argue with her, she knew exactly what to say to shut his brain down. She's stroking at a decent pace, he can see people going in and out of the house, but none seem to turn their gaze to the car. And even if they did look, he didn't care anymore. He was so very close to popping. He needed this. He needed to cum right here, right now. But, then the feeling stopped. He looked at her pulling her hand back, “No, please I really want to cum”

She ignores him and as he tries to ask again she pushes her fingers into his mouth. “Clean my fingers, and maybe you'll earn the right to cum.” This time he wasn't embarrassed, he was frustrated. Horribly frustrated. He needed to cum and now instead he was sucking his own precum off of this woman's fingers. But, he accepted it. He wanted to cum, and she promised he might get to. So he was willing to do as he was told.

“Good girl.” He doesn't argue this time. He knew she would just embarrass him again if he tried. Plus he wanted to cum. His silence brings a bigger smirk to her face. “Now let's get you home.”

The drive home was uneventful. She was taking her time making sure she didn't get into an accident. Eventually they arrived at his apartment complex, and he lead her to the apartment itself. He unlocked the door and walked him, she followed him in. The living room was dark, but he could tell his roommate hadn't come home yet. “Take me to your room.” And he does as told.

His room isn't very interesting. No posters or anything, not much furniture, just the bed, a dresser and a tv with some video games spread around. He could tell she was disappointed by what she found, but she didn't say anything about it. He tried to think of what to say, but he didn't know what the next move was.

“Strip down to your panties.”

But, clearly the older woman knew what the next move was. He did as told, he took her shirt off, he took his jeans off, and he stood there in the middle of his bedroom in this woman's panties, made wet by his precum. She walks over and runs one hand through the hair on the side of his head, and with her other grabs his ass, and then starts to kiss and bite him along the neck, slowly moving up his neck. Each kiss followed by a sharp bite, each one making him grow all the more restless. He lets out soft moans, surprising himself that he can sound that way.

“Such a good girl~” she whispers.

“I'm not a girl.” The boy moans.

“Oh? You're embarrassed to show your chest to a bunch of drunken men like a girl, you've got your panties incredibly wet like a girl, and right now you're moaning like a girl.”

He blushes. “N-none of those things make someone a girl.”

The woman slips her hand under the panties, grabbing his bare ass as she responds, “That's true. But doesn't it sound more fun to be a girl? What do you have to lose by embracing this part of yourself? Why not try something new?” He moans as she starts to bite him again. He has no retort. Just desire. His cock throbbing, yet tears forming in his eyes. “Please make me uh....please make me your girl.” the girl finally says.

A big smile forms on the woman's face. “Of course, sweetie.” She pushes the girl backwards onto the bed. The woman looks down on her with such a big smile as the girl adjusts herself so she'll be more comfortable on the bed, but all her movement stops as the woman gets on top of her. The woman starts by kissing her upper chest, slowly working her way to her nipples. The girl grabs her sheets and squeezes her hands into fists as the woman sucks and bites, making her moan from pleasures she never knew she could feel. The woman takes her time, sucking and biting, eventually kissing her way to the other nipple and repeating the process. Slow, biting, sucking, kissing, pleasure.

The woman starts to move on, kissing slowly down her chest, slowly down her stomach, slowly down her crotch. The woman starts to pull the panties down, just enough for her cock to pop out, and the woman takes it into her hand and puts the head into her mouth. The girl moans at the feeling of the warm mouth on her cock. With her hand, the woman starts to jerk the girl off, while lightly sucking on her and her move her mouth back and forth. The girl's eyes roll into the back of her head and she moans the biggest moan of the night. She's never felt such ecstasy before. It's intense. So intense. She needs it. She needs to finish. She needs to cum now. “Please, please, please” she moans. “I want to cum please.” She can feel it close. She knows it's soon.

And the woman pulls the girl out of her mouth. The girl is once again frustrated, “no, p-please, don't stop please...”

“Do you think you've been a good girl tonight? Why should I let you cum?”

“Please please please I'm sorry I'll be your good girl please let me cum.” She's desperate. She'll do anything. She has never felt this good before, she doesn't want it to end like this. “Please I'll do anything you want please, I'll be a good girl for you I swear.”

The woman smiles again. She pulls off her bra, revealing her giant tits for the girl to see. She pulls the girl head into her chest, face between her tits. “How do you like the tits you were so obsessed with?” The girl doesn't know what to say. They're lovely, but the pressure in her is too intense, “please, please, please” she cries while her eyes start to form tears.

The woman let's her go and stands up next to the bed. “I don't want to hear you beg. I want you to earn your right to cum. Put your mouth to good use.” The girl never considered she might be expected to do something back. This is all so new to her, she was just riding along with what the woman did. But, she didn't feel resistant to it, she just wasn't sure what to do. Sitting on her knees, the girl was easily crotch height with the woman now. The girl slowly lifted the woman's skirt, revealing the woman's semi erect cock. The smell of the woman's sweat and cock flooded the girl's senses. And she loved it. It made her even hornier. She takes the woman into her mouth, trying to copy what the woman has done before.

The woman puts both her hands on the top of her head, “Don't overthink it, just relax.” The girl listens and tries to slow down and relax, and then the woman thrusts, her cock hitting the back of the girl's throat. She pulls back and thrusts again. The girl understands now and tries to relax, but this is completely new. But that doesn't stop her from being a good girl. “Oh babygirl, your throat is just like a fleshlight, it feels like you're made for my cock.” The girl barely hears the words, she just lets the woman have her way. The seconds become minutes, the minutes drift by as the girl loses all sense of time. She is not a boy tonight, she is this woman's toy.

The woman eventually stops thrusting, exhausted she pulls her cock from the girl's mouth. The girl can see strings of saliva and precum connecting them still. “Lay down.” the woman commands. Having learned her place, the girl does as told, laying her head on her pillow, preparing for what's to come. “You've been such a good girl, I think it's time I helped you cum.” Excitement wells up in the girl. She's waited all night for this.

The woman crawls onto the bed and stands on her knees, pushing herself between the girl's legs. She puts her cock on the girl's cock, and thrusts. The girl lets out a loud moan. And again, the woman thrusts. And, again. And again until she's developed a rhythm. The girl realizes she can see the woman's face like this. She can see her face strain and hear her moan with each thrust. This turns the girl on even more. The woman notices the girl staring, and slows her rhythm as she pushes herself forward to shove her tongue into the girl's mouth. The girl doesn't know what to do and just let's her do it. The pleasure is slower, but the pleasure is there. The woman lifts her head back up, resuming her previous posture and previous rhythm, causing the girl to let out long, deep moans. The pressure is coming back, the intensity in her cock is building, “I'm g-going to c-cum” she moans out.

“Mmm, cum for me sweet girl,” the woman replies. Finally with the permission, the girl finally feels herself explode. Her cum shooting out of her and covering them both. The girl breathes heavy, nearly in tears, “th-thank you thank you.” The girl can't tell if the woman replied, her senses fade, the world around her fades, and she melts into the bed, deep into sleep.

The sounds of chirping birds wake the girl up. She's in bed, covered in cum, in a girl's lacy panties. The woman she met at the party before is putting her top on when she notices the girl woke up. “Oh hi sweetheart, I need to go, stuff to do. You should go back to sleep if you don't need to get up early.”

The girl shakes her head, she has no where to be. “But..I don't want you to go...”

“Awww,” she coos at the girl, “but I have to my sweet girl.” The woman picks up her bag and pulls a pen out of it. She looks around the room for something to write on, finally deciding to just write it on the girl's arm. “This is my number. Text me sometime.” The girl nods, excited. The party worked, she got a friend!

She escorts the woman to the living room, but before the woman leaves, she reaches into her bag again and pulls out two pill bottles and puts them in the girl's hand. "Take two of these a day.”

“What do they do?” The girl asks.

The woman motions at her body, “they do this. It'll make you the girl you've wanted to be.”

“I'm not a girl.” It was automatic. She didn't even intend to say it.

“Ok, ok, girl adjacent. You can be whatever you want, but take those pills and it'll do it for you. I have extras so I might as well give them to you.”

The woman opens the door and as she exits the apartment, she turns around, “Also, you're going to clean those panties and give them back. It's a matching set, damn it, I can't just lose them” The girl, realizing finally that she's still covered in cum and in panties, goes red and finally closes the door in a panic.

The girl goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water before going back to her room. She stares at the pill bottles given to her. She opens the one bottle and takes a small blue pill out. She stares at it, trying to figure out what to do with it.

“I'm not a girl.” she says to herself, just before washing the blue pill down her throat.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

academic rivals part 2! viktor x fem!reader

(part 1)

author’s note: this is my humble, poorly proof-read new year’s present. banter, smutty smut and all that. what is this with me and semi-public vehicle (train) sex scenes. anyways. this was highly requested so i delivered. enjoy!

word count: 5,3k~

—

His mouth arcs into a sardonic smirk under your thumb, front teeth nipping ever so sternly—all fucked-out glimpses of insolence gnawing at your composure. So much for paying homage to the proper aftermath. It’s his penchant for prideful gestures that always gets in the way—a ticklish kiss that’s more self-pleased than it’ll ever be tender, lingering below your ear in a slick little trace and basking in the rigid sequence of breaths. Sinewy hands curl around your thighs and slide a ticklish trail home—a finishing touch to your undoing by his hands. A stunt he’s allowed to pull only when you sit astride him. 

“Fuck.” It comes out in a rasp—a trembling, gulping thing that you spit above his clavicle, fingers tearing at his shirt in the very same fashion he’d disposed of yours mere minutes prior. Gaze down and stubborn, even in its bleariness. “Lose the grin. I can’t stand it.”

“Am I not allowed to indulge in some self... acclaim?” Viktor holds a breath and lurches forward with a sloppy bob of his head, catching hold of your wrist just in time to brush your knuckles with the corner of his smiling lips. 

“You and your redundant swank. You might as well write it on your forehead. ‘Look, I made a woman cum for once!’”

That scores you an incredulous chuckle. And it’s a sweet taunt when he leans backward, watching you crawl out of his lap through weak-kneed splendor. Dizzy and struggling to find your shirt, but neither of you mind a little voyeurism—Viktor almost looks upset when you finally swing the thing on your shoulders, popping the buttons closed—so watchfully sluggish. Dragging it out until the side of your breast is finally out of his reach. The opposite of a striptease. 

“For once?” He chides with a huff. 

His lean on the desk is heavy when he gets up—has you frowning as he groans, straightening his back, and your shaky, helpful hands rush to put his cane back into his palm. You definitely ought to consider doing it on softer surfaces. 

And there goes your taciturn gratitude. Intermittent tenderness at its best—wrapping around his shoulders and kissing him on the mouth, swirling inside your chest in that one terrifying, anything-but-casual tingle. 

Too bad you’d rather drink his promised periodic table-flavored coffee than confirm your affection verbally, though.

“Maybe twice,” you concede, but that little mercy doesn’t please him. It’s a prickly antic when he trades the lovely squeeze of your hip for a warning pinch, and you have no choice but to sigh, clinging off his frame with a defeated, “Fine. Thrice at best.” 

“Try quadrupling that,” Viktor bites back, earning himself a scoff. “Although, I’m sure the received sum will noticeably deviate from the accurate amount.”

“That’s not plausible. We’re not fucking nearly long enough for you to even dream of that.”

“Ah, but you do admit that ‘thrice at best’ doesn’t do my accomplishments enough justice.”

“God, you’re so flippant. Remind me why I’m sleeping with you again?”

Truly, though, why do you keep doing it? Your rivalry is not exactly a fugitive—it was still there, jagged and swollen inside your gut, piercing through your temples whenever he dared to challenge you. And his contempt never left, either—all tense veins threatening to snap out of his neck every time he towered above you with a new complaint. An ouroboros of aching vocal cords and heated profanities—mostly on your part. Mostly during those tedious hours of assembling the exoskeleton. 

Oh, but what a twist it gained.

A titillating, filthy thing that both of you couldn’t get enough of. Shamefully lucrative, too—both for the Inventor’s Competition and for your sanities—biting, bruising, binding your limbs together in whatever hate-fucking fashion he did it to you the first time. And the second one. And the third. You couldn’t exactly make out when it got diluted into something palpably softer, though. 

When the need to pound you senseless just to make the cooperation bearable was replaced with a mere ‘Would you like a distraction?’ When his name—once urging you to wash your mouth with soap for every shameful time you had to call out for him—became your favorite disyllabic moan, sultry and choked up beneath or atop him (and invariably followed by a sweetly sadistic tug on his tousled hair). When there isn't a single logical reason left for you to keep it up—because the prototype finally lies before you, complete and stunning, outstripping the deadline by two days, and the presentation is already approved by your mentors. Not without a plethora of mutual insults, but that part could never be avoided. And the job was done. Flawlessly so. That’s the only thing that matters. 

Except it isn’t.

Your temporary partnership was over. Sure, there’s still the main event waiting to be dealt with, but that affair is of a strictly professional nature. No twisted, romantic business allowed. Maybe you could still arrange a few superfluous recitings—more so to come up with another excuse to undress him and gently pull the device over that prominent spine, then to hastily get him out of it when one of you inevitably starts questioning the other’s intelligence (or decency). A maniacal urge to find something—anything to claim one more chaotic evening before it’s over. Before you lose every preposterous explanation for lusting after him. 

How very counterproductive of you.

Even tonight. Barely any science talk, yet so much redundant touching. Nonsensical anecdotes. Laughter. Insult-framed, jagged heart-to-hearts. Anything but a decent, last-adjustments-related workshop. And there was definitely no reason to finish as late as you did. 

And yet, it’s quarter to midnight when you’re finally packing up. His hand keeps slipping off the handle when he holds the door for you. And he stands there so tellingly disheveled, with his hair a mess like a screaming proof of your entanglement: he could never fight the allegation if someone were to walk in on you one of these nights. Certainly not looking like that. 

Knowing, astute eyes followed your languorous tease of a walk. He failed to swallow a scoff when you attempted to run out of the lab (the audacity of you to even consider leaving without kissing him goodbye!), and that stunt cost you a graceful penalty. 

Viktor’s scrawny frame found support in a quick recline on the wall. Had you squealing when something hard tugged on your waist. His cane, you realized, turning to address the bastard. But he exceeded. Weaved his arm around you and pressed your chest flush with his, grinning down when your fingers reached for his corduroy vest. And that smile—gummy and ostentatious—almost tore his mouth when you gave him a nasty glare from beneath tired lids. An oblivious passer-by would definitely mistake this for a lovely embrace in the doorway—if not for the way you pulled his tie and clashed agape mouths in a harsh nip of a kiss. 

“Asshole,” you grumble, going in for another toothy collision. His laugh bounces off your tongue and rolls down your throat in a vibrating little shake—and you giggle back, awkwardly waltzing him out of that dim room, face still clinging to his in a vile attempt to distract while he fumbles with the key. 

“Mmm,” Viktor hums, watching your tangled legs trip over his cane. “You should amend this obsolete dirty talk. Your semantics have become tolerably pleasant.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to endure them anymore.” 

He drops the keys with an awkward clang. 

And it’s a first for you—to face the taciturn side of him, smug face unscathed with usual complacency as he watches you bend over to pick up the dangling bunch—sharp shoulders hunching when he reaches to take it from your hands, praying that you miss the subtle shake of his fingers. 

“Anymore?” He clarifies. His voice echoes through the hall, so oddly strained—and for a moment you simply stare, unsure of how to pussyfoot your way out of this calamity. 

You shudder through it, sharply gnawing at your cuticle. Looking up at him with eyes full of puzzled radiance. Come what may. 

How does one confess to holding a sentiment? To a semi-former rival, no less? Is he even fond of you? He has to be. His sweet, yearning-ridden eyes tell you that much—so glassy under those shabby chestnut strands. So astutely askance. Surely, you can soften them. You just have to word it right. I want to keep doing this. You can make my eyes roll. Both in bed and because you’re so awfully irritating. Well, not in bed. In… chair. On the desk. The floor, too. In fact, why don’t we move this to our bedrooms? You’ve been promoted. I’d like to date you. Are you available to discuss the details? Right this instant?

“Yes. We finished the prototype, did we not? There’s no need for us to keep working nor sleeping together.” What the fuck. No! Shove that concise shit back into your throat and choke on it. Kiss him senseless. Redeem yourself while you still can—

But Viktor nods. Swipes his tongue over his freshly wounded bottom lip (thank you very much), and averts his eyes to ponder his shoes. So that’s how it is. 

“I thought…” He struggles to pronounce it. Stumbles over a digraph and hisses it in a most foreign way—and you’re sorry to have reduced him to shitty pronunciation, watching a hard gulp slowly bob down his throat. Why, just why did you have to blurt that out?

Viktor retaliates, though. Scratches his nape. Shuffles from foot to foot and coughs. A nervous tic you bear witness to for the first time, and, in a way, you gobble up his vulnerability—quiet and almost sacred, in the ambiance of this dark, long hall. 

“I thought…” He tries again but trails off to sigh. “Well…We’d already established that we shouldn’t limit our arrangement to, eh… strictly professional benefits. We may not have a reason to proceed, but wouldn’t ending it altogether be a… sunk cost fallacy?” 

Oh fuck. You do not take that well. In fact, it ignites a scoff—arms crossed over your chest and pressing hard enough to bruise your sternum. Heels clacking intimidation as you step closer, raising a brow.

“Ah, so that’s what you’re most concerned about? You simply regret investing time in me, is that it?” 

“What?” He huffs. His words—so delectable, you just want to eat them right up, especially when they gain that slightly baffled edge, all his vowels so sweetly round and pushy. “What gave you the impression?” Oh yes. Yell at me some more. Let's fight one last time and maybe I won’t feel bad about prioritizing my pride over keeping you. Bravo. How mature.

“Sunk cost fallacy?” You deride. “Seriously?” So close—almost mouth to mouth again, and you’re sure some of your spit must’ve landed on his cheek with the way you seethed it through gritted teeth—not that he minds, of course. That much was determined a long time ago. 

“Oh, since when are you so picky with your phrasings?” Viktor jeers. Pretty eyes already bleary with anger—there’s no turning back, and you know it’s a lost cause when his hand digs into his cane, twisting hard enough to strain a wrist.

Tremendous.

“I thought you wanted to keep doing this because you liked it!” You rant. Let him hover over your head (dejavu), hot breaths compounding. Scorching. 

“You’re ridiculous. I never claimed not to like it!” He concedes, hitching an exhale.

“Why won’t you admit it, then?” You pry again—nose bumping against his. There goes your decorum—straight into canines and itching to bite—right at that insufferable tongue of his. 

But he doesn’t retreat. Two can play that game.

“Why won’t you admit it? I haven’t heard a single verbal sign of appreciation from you, either.”

“Why would I spell it out for you?”

“Why wouldn’t you spell it out for me?” 

“Because the implication is there. I don’t like stating the obvious!”

“So you don’t deem me worthy of your confessions? That’s a shame. Am I to believe I’m not as special as you paint me to be?”

“Oh, you’re special all right! A special prick, that’s what you are!”

You don’t bother with confining that insult. In fact, you hope it lands precisely where you aimed—always his ego, that enormous entity you seek to tame at all cost.

But alas. That strikes a different nerve. Viktor’s teeth gnash when he takes a step back, his nasal, disappointed exhale tickling your face at last. And you don’t get to bask in the triumph. Because seeing him scowl feels anything but good—more so when he turns around, his head wagging in disbelief, eyes rushing to avert like he’ll throw up if they linger on you any longer. 

“I tried being patient with you,” he mumbles over his shoulder, “but if you prefer useless insults over admitting your feelings… I shall not waste any more time on your immature antics.” 

And when he tops it off with a sad Goodnight, followed by a spiteful hiss of your last name, you don’t mutter anything back. 

You let the silent hall consume you, chewing your lip off to the faint thumps of his cane. Foretasting a sleepless night full of awkward agony and an even more insufferable trip to the competition. With Viktor. Side by side. In one tiny compartment. 

Come what may, huh? Well, how do you feel about that mindset now? 

—

Walks of shame have enough flavours to conduct a small study. You’ve tried every single one in a span of one day—first dragging your feet as you trudged to your dorm with hunched shoulders, the remnants of your vigour replaced with guilt. And then—a more potent one, crumbling you completely on your way to the lab as you mourned the sweet reminiscence in the morning—stumbling upon the things he did to you on those very surfaces, every corner marked lovely with your shared achievements. Reminding you of exactly what you’d fucked up the night before. A slap, but not on the ass.

There’s nothing left for you but to sigh, gently retrieve the prototype and see yourself out. Staying there even a minute longer would have you tumbling head in hands. And you were already almost late for the train. Running to the station with ragged breath and bumbling over your own feet—always a hot mess no matter where you go. Nearly slipping down to the rails when you finally arrive with your skirt all hiked up. Pulling tousled hair out of your face and mouth, hasty and inelegant. Gagging on a strand when someone (Viktor, of course) coughs behind your back and hums a reluctant greeting as you turn around, startled. Stern, ochre eyes meet spooked ones. They darken when you ogle him—a guilty pleasure, really—and you almost curse out loud, noticing his shirt (the shirt!): the thin linen thing he wore the very first night you spite-fucked him. Did he do it on purpose? Smooth enhancer. How dare he. 

“You’re late,” Viktor states. Casts a quick eye on his wrist—he’s wearing a watch today, the professional bastard—and gets back to judgmental peeking, scolding you from beneath arched brows. The embodiment of a harsh peer review. 

“I’m not late,” you argue, shaky arms wrapping around the exoskeleton almost possessively. “I’m just in time.” 

He looks at his watch again. Clicks his tongue—a meticulous, petulant tsk—and shakes his head, hair fluffing all around him as the train approaches with a peevish screech, all windy streams hitting you in the face. 

Just in time indeed.

You follow him into the cart, trip over the last stair and all but leap inside, face bumping into his back with a harsh squeal. “Sorry,” you mutter, skittishly holding onto the prototype. Not as fierce today, are we?

“Watch your step,” Viktor warns, denying you his tactful glare. Hell, even his over-the-shoulder one. He simply leads you to the compartment, so painfully casual. And you grudgingly tag along, staring at his nape with a choked up whine—so blatantly obvious in your pining.

Oh to brush your nose against those knotty little hairs. To taste the skin and smirk when he arches into the nip, whispering some indistinct Czech nothing. But you’re not allowed to. Not anymore. You did this to yourself, remember? 

He opens the door for you, nodding to your seats. Waits for you to squeeze inside (the invention is a bit chunky, after all), leaning on his cane with a tranquil grunt. He must’ve gotten to the station by foot—you can tell by the way he’s stretching out his leg, sitting down. 

You wonder if this morning would’ve turned out any different had you decided not to be a cunt last night—had you told him how you really feel, no filthy words involved (except for those he likes to drag out of you, if he felt like indulging in that to celebrate).

Would you go to his dorm or yours? Would you fight over what to have for breakfast? Would you catch a cab here together? 

But the conductor helpfully ruins your bitter daydream. You awkwardly fumble inside your pocket, searching for the ticket, eyes still set on Viktor and his polite little exchanges. Good morning. Yes, of course. Here you go. Have a nice day. 

But when you finally hand that lovely lady your crumpled ticket—she drops the smile and offers you a dry thank you. The hypocrisy. 

The conductor retaliates, leaving you alone with Viktor’s ambiguous silence. So captivating when he sits in front of you, staring out the window, piney shadows running over his face in all kinds of prickly shapes. You join in on the pondering, but the remorse doesn’t let you admire the woods. The view simply blurs into vertigo-like heaps of green. 

“Ahem.” Great. Resorting to fake coughs now. So much for getting him to talk to you. Watching the glide of his tongue behind a hollow cheek and resenting that cruel show-off. Sure, you do deserve a punishment, but the drollery is hardly necessary. Some heavy artillery is in order.

Your shoe invades his pants. Just the toe, but it’s a tight fit nonetheless—forcing its way inside the leg opening and pressing hard. Scratching him precisely above the sock and gobbling up the huff he draws out, angry pupils flaring at your audacity. 

His fingers flinch down and wrap around your ankle. So belligerently erotic. More so when he forces your foot out of his pants and yanks it in its place. All gritted teeth and confused pouts. Seething intimidation and something you can’t quite make out. Has your heart dropping straight into your underwear. So the spark is still there, you note. Good to know.

“Don’t,” he alerts. “I don’t feel like indulging in another quarrel.”

“That’s not what I’m after.”

“I don’t care what you’re after. I’m fed up with your aggravating drivel.”

“It’s a good thing I’m offering you an apology, then.”

That grounds him. Tempts him treacherously enough to fail at hiding his commotion, curious mouth dropping open. But you interrupt that speechlessness. Leaning closer and prying his fist lax, hands twining firm through sweaty reluctance. Thumbs circling each other skittishly. 

“I’m sorry.” You mean it. He knows you do—harsh decorum tumbling right that instant, no matter how convincingly he’s shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” you proceed, “for being so arrogant. I always expect vulnerability from you. But it goes both ways. Well, it should. At least I know that much. I should’ve never adhered to… whatever that was. It’s just that… I get so tongue-tied when feelings are on my agenda.”

Viktor smiles, albeit still curtly. “That outburst didn’t seem tongue-tied to me at all.” 

“May I please finish before you start with all the nitpicking?” You frown, shooting him a tumultuous stare. He chortles. So insufferable. But you love him for it, don’t you?

“Back to my apology, though.” You solemnly clear your throat. “Where was I? Oh yes, vulnerability. Well, perhaps it’s already too late to address it, but I do respect you. And I do like you. In every capacity. I’m sorry for insulting you when you were clearly expecting sweetness. And if you want nothing… unprofessional to do with me after I treated you the way I did—I totally understand it. Just no more of this stonewalling bullshit, please. I want to win that damned competition and maintain a decent relationship with you afterwards. No… how did you put it? Aggravating…?”

“Drivel.”

“Right. Aggravating drivel.” 

You both nod. So it’s settled, then? A flimsy truce? Just a quick, respectful split (too quick, even)—and you almost feel underwhelmed when he slowly slips away from your touch, bashfully averting his eyes at last. It’s over, you think. Or is it? 

And then—a change of heart, so sudden and so demanding—crawling back into your palm and prying shaky fingers loose, pushing himself right back where he’d just left you empty. Ignoring your incredulous Oh? and staring at you from the altitude of his seat, thin mouth quivering into an arc. Still so insistent on running his tongue over the very wound your teeth had sliced into his bottom lip. You allege to kiss him gently henceforth. If only he returns you the perk, that is. 

“Do you truly seek a decent relationship with me? Nothing more, nothing less?” He asks carefully. 

“It’s not about what I seek, Viktor. It’s about what you’re willing to give me. The decision is yours.”

“No.” He winces. “Quit it. You’re an atrocious liar. Where’s that volatile stubbornness I admire about you?” 

You grin. Admire. What a revelation. 

And you can show him stubborn if that’s what he wants—hands already swiftly sliding up his thighs and shackling them to the seat. 

Tenacious it is, then. Hovering over his lap and tacitly asking permission to slide in. Savouring the best of answers when he pulls you towards him, long fingers curling low on your hips. Shaking just from having you on top of him again. It’s where you belong, after all. 

“Is that stubborn enough for you?” You chide. He smiles up at you in the very way that always makes you weep for him. Well, not you, per se. Just the needy thing between your ribs. And between your legs. But you’re not sure if the ambiance is appropriate for those kinds of tears yet. You do have a relationship to establish, after all. 

“You can do better than that,” Viktor whispers. Avid lips curl against your shoulder and fumble up, puckering a sparsely chaste kiss into your cheek. A tender overture ante-inevitable. 

“Do you want me to do better?” You hitch, slurring the question. Fingers already lost in fistfuls of his hair and struggling not to pull—so unvirtuous when it comes to patience. But you’re willing to wait for him. Especially when he’s staring at you this closely, all clenched jaw and tense shoulders. 

“I do,” Viktor concedes. “Of course I do. And I owe you an apology, too. I should’ve never accused you of childishness when I was hardly sophisticated myself. If anything, I should’ve told you how I feel first.”

“Mmm, are we competing in confessions now? What is this with you always trying to outstrip me?”

“Lose the prefix. I only want to strip you. But that’s beside the point. I regret my hesitation. I simply wish I’d told you sooner. All competition aside.”

Oh well. 

If the man has spoken, all while looking at you so devotedly—surely you can give him what he wants? It’s not like you don’t want to hear it, either. It’s a dream come true, to have Viktor half a beat from spilling his heart out into your hands. Figuratively, literally and however else he prefers. 

You finally indulge in a sneaky pull on his hair. Keeping his head thrown back when you drawl a raspy, “Lucky for you, I feel very charitable today.” But the cheekiness vanishes when you bashfully add, “You can tell me now. If the offer still stands.” Handing him the stubborn baton through a kiss so soft that he shudders beneath you, treacherous tachycardia tangible in his very temples. But it’s a necessary risk. Conversation is a relay sport, after all. 

Viktor peers at the door. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your predicament, rocking sideways and adding to the delight of your giddiness—the compartment (whose tininess you had to thank for pushing you back into his vicinity) was providing you barely any flimsy privacy. 

Come to think of it, the lovely conductor may barge in to offer you tea any time soon. And god, the thought of her turning rouge to the sight of you gnawing at him shouldn’t excite you this much. It shouldn’t excite you, period. 

And yet it does. Heartbeat rolling back into your underwear and all that. You can see Viktor's pulse follow suit. You could even cup it through his pants—if you felt like it. Both of you have half a mind to get into it right that perverse instant, but, thankfully, his share of decorum proves bigger. And so he reaches behind your back, sliding the lock shut. Sharp eyes return to your lips, seeking resumption. 

You lick into him with the vigour of a farewell kiss. And a farewell it is—to whatever undefined mess you’d started in that lab two weeks ago. You’re changed people now. A tad clumsy with your gentle tongues colliding and tickling each-other’s palates unskillfully. But nothing is unmanageable to Viktor. He quickly gets the hang of it, figuring out a way around your mouth. Grinning against your tongue like a fool. And you humm, clinging to his hair with trembling fingers. Arching under his own when he crumples your shirt, finding a grabby hold of your waist. So greedy. 

It’s hard to fight the force of habit. To put your teeth out of the way. His content moan only riles you up, more so when you suck at his bottom lip, tasting dried iron where he still wears your crimes of passion. You shower those little wounds in guilty kisses, smiling. He pulls away, panting through a wheezy chuckle. Tributing the next moment to an enthralled staring contest before forcing your mouth open again, one hand besetting your neck, mindful not to choke, another daring to slip under your shirt and follow a shivering path to the underside of your breast. Nimble fingers outlining an aureole while his tongue traces your lip. Beautiful contingency. 

“I adore you,” he rasps. Licks up the thick saliva string connecting your mouths and marvels at you, contorted with horny desperation. Bedroom eyes glimmering under dark lashes. Bedroom. You really ought to take him there. Eventually. For now, he lovingly wrecks you on a train, bodies moulded together in a tiny seat. You laugh, pushing his tousled hair back.

“Do you?” 

“I do.” He nods. Kisses your temple and presses his thumb into your nipple, fondling it hard. “You and your superfluous, unwavering pride. The nasty things you call me with such genuine fervour.” 

“But you’re into that.”

“Oh yes. To a concerning extent, I might add.” And he places your hand on his crotch, knowing that you prefer physical evidence.

“Back to my adoration, though,” he proceeds. Gently nudges you off his lap, using your puzzled reverence to his advantage—legs bending as he slides to the floor, lurking between your thighs. Hunching over them to steal one more peck—it’s hard to resist, really—and pushing your knees apart, hardly even insistent. 

His cunning, unmerciful fingers engulf bashful shivers when he reaches beneath your skirt and hooks his thumbs into your underwear, swiftly gliding the soaked thing down. You wish you’d chosen a fancier pair, but alas: one doesn’t exactly plan ahead to have make-up sex on a train. 

“Viktor,” you whine a choked up warning. But he doesn’t just leave the lacey garment to dangle off your ankles. He folds it into his pocket with a grin so wide that it might just rip his mouth. Back to his bastard roots. No amount of gentleness could ever cure a perpetual asshole. 

“What?” He huffs. Feigned innocence slumping when you push your legs further apart, arching into the seat. Filthily inviting him to have a taste. He settles on having a look for now, hitching a whistling breath as his eyes roam—every inch of you swollen and ready just for him. More so when his lips brush your skin, leaving a wet kiss above your knee. Moving up, up, up and faltering when you grab him by the nape, shoving his face where you need him most. 

But he doesn’t oblige. Simply smiles at you and snakes a cruel finger between your folds, teasing the slit sloppy. 

“You—ah, stole my underwear,” you moan, nails sharply stinging Viktor’s neck. His finger curls inside you, trembling when you clench at the contact, every nerve taut and ready to snap. Especially when the heel of his palm flattens your clit, dull pressure like a sweet tingle making your legs feel numb. His free hand grabs your calf and pushes it in the air, and the stretch stings so deliciously that you have to bite your fist to muffle a moan. Oh the detriments of fucking in public. 

“I did,” Viktor concurs, bottoming out inside you. His thrusts are languid, as if intending to feel every crevice, that smart-mouth of his smiling wider with every dirty, sticky sound. You look away just in time to hide your embarrassment. 

“Will you give it back to me?” You ask, teeth almost slicing your cheek when he bends to steal a careful taste of your clit, tongue poking you almost too gently. 

“No,” he hums against you, staring up. Eyes hazy with awe at just how wet and pliant you are for him.

At how his fingers are always welcome inside you, no matter mouth or cunt. Perhaps other… orifices, too, but you’re yet to explore that. For now, he can only think of the needy task at hand. 

“You expect me to attend the competition with no underwear?” You mumble, clenching your jaw, but it’s hard to be mad at him when his tongue feels so good. More so when he does that little thing you like, tending to your clit in a circling lick, all while pumping his finger deep to the knuckle. Has you tilting your head back with your hand thrown over your damp forehead, mouth stretching in an O that could’ve been so debauched if not for your reticent calamity. What a loss.

“Precisely,” he answers when you almost forget about the question, his voice a raspy vibration against your skin. “I’d like to see you deal with that inconvenience.” 

“It’s rude to speak with your mouth full,” you hiss, grabbing him by the collar. And being womanhandled suits him well—he meets your eyes with playful compliance, chin proudly tilted up. 

“I never claimed to be polite.” He shrugs. Smartass.

“Right. Is that why you’re putting me in that predicament or are you just a pervert?” 

“Both, really. But if you want me to elaborate—“ he sighs, leaning back to admire your face, “I want to be the reason for your predicaments and undoings. I want to have you as my partner—in life, science, crime, bed or this very compartment. I want to make your eyes roll, both when you cum for me and when I say something you find ridiculous—which, I must admit, is objectively implausible because I’m hardly ever wrong, but we’ll have enough time to fight over that later.” 

“Viktor—” You blush, letting go of his collar, heart stammering out of your ribs when he pulls away, promptly fixing his tie. 

“For now, though,” he interrupts you, stealing a quick glance at his watch, “I’d simply like to go down on you before we have to get off this train. So if you’re still feeling scandalous,” he teases, letting you kiss your own sour taste off the corner of his mouth, “relaxing and letting me take the lead would be most helpful.”

[cvnt4him]

Stop stop stop end it all now pack it up bc pro hero deku fucking his fans???? Oh y'all I think he's weak as fuck. He'd literally js fuck his fans bc he needs a break like he's so tired of hero work n shows up to these meet n greets n hero-cone n shit n he js sees someone [you, he sees you n chooses you bc you're sexy, dont let anyone tell you otherwise.] and pulls them off to the side and goes to the hotel part of the building and erm..fucks their brains out. Like he has self respect but sometimes fucking his fans in cheap motels is just what he needs I promise like he would be so rough with you oh my god. Pounding you into the mattress telling you to shut the fuck up and take it like he knows you want to. BUT HES JS SO DAMN BIG YALL. HES LIT CRUSHING YOU WHILE HE DRILLS HIS THICK COCK INSIDE OF YER GUTS...... n ugh... don't kink shame me now but....imagine him fucking you and stepping on your head w his boot and uttering such filthy insults about how you're just a greedy cock whore who doesn't deserve to be in his presence let alone breath the same air as him?!

[bonbonly]

its currently 1 am and im crying at how beautiful lewis is 😭

[shawtuzi]

this is just a little tease to see how ppl like it—feedback is always appreciated and encouraged <333 but anyways this is 18+ so mdni thank yew (boarder credit @/bernardsbendystraws

“g-guys,” you mewled against choso’s lips, gasping when he slithered his tongue into your drooling mouth. a groan rumbled in his chest when he felt your bare breasts push into him. armin was sloppily leaving kisses all across your neck, the smell of your strawberry poundcake scented perfume making him dizzy.

“jus’ shut up for a sec o-okay? we wanna play with you” you felt the tickle of armin’s lips against your neck. you felt utterly powerless as the two man groped you as if you were nothing but a toy—in this case i guess you were in a way.

armin’s hands were now palming at your breasts, his skilled fingers tweaking your sensitive nipples. you used choso’s broad shoulders to keep you steady as he sucked on your tongue, the wispy hairs from his disheveled bun tickling your face. “she’s tastes like strawberries,” choso moaned against your mouth, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

“here have a taste.”

choso forced your head to face armin’s, his lips immediately smashing into yours. his tongue slithered into your mouth, swirling around yours, he chuckled lowly against your lips before pulling away. “so sweet,” he panted, running his index and middle finger over your lips before shoving them into your mouth. you gagged around the digits, hot tears springing to your lash line.

you jumped when you heard a thud against the door. armin pulled your backside closely into in his front, choso stepping forward to be just as close to you. “someone’s gunna hear usss,” you whined, bucking your hips forward when you felt armin’s slender fingers toy with the waistband on your panties.

“good i hope t-they d-do,” armin couldn’t contain the whine that slipped past his lips when he felt the warmth of your panty clad cunt press against the semi in his jeans.

you were supposed to be enjoying the party outside, dancing the night away with your two boyfriends but they had . . . other ideas.

they were insatiable when it came to you—always craving the tangy taste of your cum on their lips or the wet, tight heat of your pussy around their dicks. they were virgins when they became your boyfriends so of course the three of you were practically joined at the hip. they always craved you it didn’t matter what time of day it was, and you gave in every time bc you just couldn’t say no to those pouty lips and cloudy eyes.

“you’re makin’ me so hard babe,” choso chuckled breathlessly, his teeth clamping onto his kiss swollen lip. his eyes practically had hearts in them as he watched armin fondle you, his poor cock straining painfully against his zipper :((

choso’s nose scrunched up when he felt your hand stroke him over his jeans. “m’sorry cho lemme help you,” your words were slurred, completely drunk on the two men as you finally decided to just give into their neediness. “y-you’re the best girlfriend ever,” choso sniffled, his hips now rocking into your hand.

“just the bestttt,” armin groaned, sliding his pretty, thick dick between your thighs. you hadn’t even noticed he unzipped his pants, but you certainly weren’t complaining. the way his pudgy tip knocked against your covered clit had you mewling, itching to touch choso more. “o-oh minnie,” you gasped, now fumbling with choso’s zipper with shaky hands.

choso let out a high pitched whimper when he felt your hand finally wrap around his dick, your thumb swiping over his leaky slit. “see . . . i-i wanna see,” choso huffed, his veiny hands roughly yanking up your mini dress. the sight of armin’s dick peeking from between your silky thighs had his mouth watering.

“make his dick wetter babe, c’man lemme—lemme show you,” you squeaked when armin dipped his hand in your panties, collecting your essence on his fingers. “fuck she feels so swollen,” armin growled into your ear, his fingers rubbing teasing circles over your clit taking his hand out.

“o-oh!” choso’s hips jerked forward when he felt another hand on his cock, his eyes fluttering shut when he felt your wetness being rubbed along the base. “now do it,” armin spoke softly, his hands now settling on your hips to create a steady rhythm. as much as he loved being inside you, feeling your thick, petal soft thighs around his dick made him high without even partaking in drugs.

you were stroking choso’s cock with both hands now, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you felt him pull your panties to the side. “ohhhh fu—huck,” armin’s thighs tensed when he suddenly greeted by your hot cunt, your wetness dribbling all over his dick. “feels better now hm?” choso cooed, using his freehand to grip your jaw.

“s-so much better cho ᢉ𐭩”

[bunnyyyuu]

includes: f! reader, aged up! stepbro yuuta, stepcest, male masturbation, panty stealing, somno, noncon

for @yuutakiss / @okkotsupaw

after ur parents get married hes kinda like a ghost living in ur house. he only ever comes out of his room to eat dinner and occasionally get a snack in the middle of the night. he kinda js stares at u and takes literally 5ever to warm up to u.

but when he does warm up to u!! uh oh!!! he gets waaaayyy too clingy and follows u around the house. hes still kinda quiet and awkward but he listens to u yap about whatever u wanna. also he has like no sense of boundaries and is all up in ur personal space and comes into ur room even tho u tell him to get out (but like hes not trying anything yet)

after a while he starts getting touchier! like grabbing ur wrist when he follows u about, leaning his head on ur shoulder when ur next to each other on da couch, holding ur hand (not like interlocking fingers, but yk hand holding), trying to touch ur hair, laying his head in ur lap sometimes. u dont think anything of it cuz he does it so gradually that it doesnt seem like anything is going on!!! but he knows ofc

he starts sleeping in ur room too! sometimes js "accidentally" falling asleep while u two hang out in there as the sun sets (u stopped trying to kick him out of ur room forever ago), sometimes he sneaks in while ur snoozing and js curls himself up on the floor, but he always leaves before u wake up. occasionally hell wake up when he's sleeping in there and js peek at ur things... maybe steal a shirt or smth (no panty thieving just yet!) its not creepy is what he thinks, hes just curious!!

eventually, though, he does steal ur underwear. maybe not straight from ur dresser but maybe when he offers to do ur laundry—what a sweetie! he just slips the dirty pair in his pocket while everything else goes in the wash. again, totally not creepy! what kinda man do u think he is?

and it definitely isn't creepy when he's fisting his big fat cock with the fabric, free hand smacked over his mouth. he leans against the wall that connects his room to urs, trying so hard to hear any sound from your bedroom, but ur fast asleep so, unfortunately for him, radio silence is all he gets. it's okay, though! he can just imagine all the sounds u make as he rams into u over n over n over; he's got a great imagination!!

oh, and it's so so so totally normal and not creepy or perverted when he sneaks into ur room right after spilling his load all over his hand and ur panties. of course, it's just sibling stuff, when he sinks his cum-painted fingers past ur open, snoring mouth. it's not weird at all how he watches ur face scrunch up at the foreign taste on ur sleeping tongue, how his cock starts to harden again as u shut ur lips around his digits in an attempt to push out the intrusion. it's definitely not weird how he ends up having to scurry back into his room to pump his dick again bc oopsies the sight of u unconsciously licking his cum off his hands was js too much :(

[hobies-princealbert]

pornstar! hobie brown x pornstar! reader | (obviously nsfw)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆ pornstar! hobie brown whose name you've heard floating around your feed since your first appearance. The one who you've been dying to get in touch with, but feared that your small following wouldn't interest him, like some of the others you've asked.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown, a veteran in the game, and by what you've heard is one of the best fucks some of the most seasoned creators have ever had.

☆ yeah, that same pornstar! hobie brown that just messaged you asking if you were down to collaborate with him one day.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who had you screaming into your sheets and kicking your feet cause not only does he knows you exist, he wants to collab!

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who you immediately said yes to.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown and you then stayed up all night discussing the location, time, equipment, condoms, toys etc. you know the good stuff. he was surprisingly thorough, most people you've collaborate with just wanted to make sure you were clean and had a good camera.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who when he showed up in the lobby of the hotel he booked, took your breath away. the man was ridiculously gorgeous. not to mention thay voice. god, fuck me sideways he's hot asf.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown took the initiative to started up some small talk as you made your way to the room. he could tell you were nervous, since you were much more talkative on the phone. and he could hear the excitement in your voice. but now you couldn't even look him in the eye. guess he's gonna have to do his best to ease your nerves.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown offered to do most of the heavy lifting like the setting up the cameras, lights, sanitizing the sheets, just whatever prep was needed. all he wanted from you was to get relaxed and ready.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who started you off with a slow heated makeout session. he was a damn good kisser, and his lip piercing made the experience even better. he told you to guide his hands to wherever you wanted them. his hands were much bigger than yours, but still his palms were soft and warm to the touch.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who's breath hitched once you directed one of his hands to cup your clothed cunt. you both stared at each other, both afraid to make any sudden moves.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown did his best to ensured you times that ""jus' say the word love, and all this stops. i won' be disappointed ok?" even though he said it with a half hearted tone, his gaze in his eyes was serious. the last thing he wanted was for you to force yourself.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who was doing his best to ignore the mind numbing throb in his pants, as he waited on your response. you then moved his hand pass the waistband of your panties, so he could put his finger in between your folds. once he did, his eyes grew slightly wide. you were soaked.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who you had to now ensure you were ready. "trust me I want this as much as you do, i promise i do". and with the simplest nod, he went to work.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown, that you found out was a real pussy drunk, had used his tongue to push pass your folds and was now tongue deep in your cunt. his hands pressed your hips further into his face anytime you even squirmed in the slightest. its not like you could help it. he sent the first few minutes searching your inner walls for the spot that made you cry out the loudest. and once he did it was hell to get him off it.

☆ the man, pornstar! hobie brown, was a messy ass eater. you could hear as he suckled hard on your clit. how whenever needed a break would just run his pressed tongue along your slit. and how he would groan whenever your walls tried to push out his tongue whenever you reached your peak.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who reminded you to breathe as you struggled to ease in his length. he knew it would probably be a tight fit, that's why he made sure to coat your cunt with slick and spit before he tried. "don' worry jus' breathe love. shhh i know, but imma need you to relax for me. no it will fit, jus' stay with me now".

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who loved to give you face a light tap whenever your eyes would roll back or you mumbled to him when he asked you a question. he would most definitely grab your chin if he caught you staring at the camera instead of him. he knows it's for the optics, but hell he's the one fucking you dumb, so eyes on him. "don' focus on them. 'm right 'ere love. set thos' pretty eyes on me. trust me please baby. just you and me"

☆ pornstar! hobie brown that loves to run his fucking mouth. you almost told him to shut up, especially since he realized how your walls would pulse around him whenever he so much as let out a groan. what can he say, if he sees an opportunity to make you cum, he'll do whatever it takes.

☆ speaking of cum, pornstar! hobie brown who tell you to open your legs wider so the camera can get a good shot of the mess your cunt made of your inner thighs and his dick. "let 'em see baby, aw look at that. oh i kno' they gonna be so proud of you, but probably not as proud as me. good girl, lemme clean you off." yes he gave you a tongue bath.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who just by fucking you to the edge in some random hotel room, helped you blow up practically overnight. don't be surprised if he hits you up for a part 2. (he would even if there was no camera)

[tyunniez]

converse high... bttm male reader

!!.. this has to be my worst work yet,, uhh rough sex, creampie, kinda vanilla ngl, not proofread idfk also bts ref borahae 💜

you jumped around in excitement to see one of your favorite group is finally going on tour! and they're coming to your city!

you immediately rushed to check the tickets, choosing the vip standing seat. " wait, how much money do I have left? " you stopped yourself before making a bad decision.

you looked at your bank account and almost passed out. you're broke as hell.

" why the hell am I so broke? " you questioned yourself, trying to find a genuine reason.

you scanned throughout your room till your eyes landed on your closet. " ah. that's why. "

multiple articles of clothing brimmed your closet causing it to overfill, making you slightly grimace at how your clothing rail was holding on for its dear life.

you recently went on another shopping haul after seeing your favorite idol adorning a new collection that was released by your favorite fashion brand.

you just had to get it.

yeah, maybe you had a bit of a spending problem..

your parents have spoiled you since birth because you're their one and only child. no, you weren't wealthy. you had to take on jobs multiple times, but hey hard work pays off!

you were currently on your break, and you intended to spend it going shopping till you went broke but unfortunately, due to you blowing your money to buy another vip standing ticket, that money mysteriously vanished.

" hmm.. is there any job I can do right now? " you rolled around in bed while scrolling through your phone, trying to find any quick gag you could do to earn some cash.

you ended up throwing your phone to the wall, groaning aloud when you could find none.

" i'm so lazy! not to mention my piles of assignments... " you sighed to yourself, opting to go downstairs instead to eat your sorrows away.

you were greeted by both of your parents downstairs, your mom already getting started on making lunch. " oh dear, what's wrong? you look stressed. "

you go to stand beside her, washing your hands in the process to help her cook. " I'm looking for a job to buy a ticket for a concert. my fav group is coming here you know! " you complained to your mom.

you grab the onion and began slicing it, shedding a few tears meanwhile. your mom thinks to herself, turning to you with an idea.

" you know our neighbor is actually looking for someone to babysit her kid. the pay is quite good since her kid is quite.. naughty. " you stared at the soup you were stirring and hummed.

" i can send you the details if you're interested, dear. " you nodded and decided to see how much would the pay be, who knows it might be enough.

a bonus is the kid has a total hottie as her brother!

you took one look at the pay and were sold immediately. you did the math and doing this for the amount of time needed will be more than enough.

i mean, babysitting can't be that hard, right?

⊹₊⋆

you sighed nervously as you finally approached the front door, your tote bag on your shoulder with everything you needed inside. you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for the mom to greet you.

instead, you were greeted by someone else. " you the new babysitter? "

you stuttered, brain short-circuiting. instead of answering, you stared at the man in front of you.

the red-haired cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to answer with a raised brow. " hello? you there? " he asked in an annoyed tone.

" oh, oh yeah sorry. y-yeah, i'm the new babysitter. " you gripped the strap of your tote bag, trying your best to maintain eye contact with the man in front of you.

he hummed and opened the door wider for you to come in. you excused yourself and stepped into the house.

you walked up to ms. moore to greet her but before you could say anything she rushed towards you, her bag already in her hand.

" oh yn dear! i was just about to leave! thank god you're here. so there's money on the counter in case maya wants anything to eat. you can ask my son for any help. i'll be back before one so i hope you can withstand.. "

before you could ask any questions, she already rushed her way out towards the door. " jason, you better help the babysitter this time! thank you again and i'll see you when i get back, dear! "

with a slam of the door, she was gone.

you stood there, trying to process the information she just dumped on you. in your shocked state, jason gave you a pat on the shoulder. " she always does that. good luck dealing with that devil. ", was all he said before leaving you alone.

" maya, go easy on him! " he shouted upstairs.

you turned to the kid staring at you from the couch, a little concerned about what he just said. you've dealt with kids before, this will be easy.

⊹₊⋆

god, you regretted even thinking that.

there was a reason why babysitters kept dropping out like flies. this kid might as well come straight from hell!

you let out a long sigh as you crashed onto the sofa. you finally managed to put maya to sleep. though you couldn't really relax, still scared she might pull something with you thinking she was asleep.

" don't worry she's asleep. " you looked to the side to see jason slipping next to you on the couch, remote in his hand as he scrolled through various movies.

you let out another sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest and closing your eyes. you crossed your legs over one another, inspecting your slightly dirty converse high.

you peered over next to you, silently admiring jason.

you observed how his grown-out wolf cut, his red-haired that was now washed out is slightly messy, making it look like he just rolled out of bed.

your eyes were especially glued to his piercings. from his industrial to his snake bite, god he has so much.

you were more so drawn to his lips, that you could see his tongue-piercing. he purposely toyed with it, flicking his tongue out to tease you.

he licked his lips ever so slowly, his pink tongue grazing over his lower lip, not forgetting to graze over his snake bite. you gulped and looked away to try to get your mind on something else.

you didn't want to pop a boner in someone else's house!

" had enough already? " his sultry voice suddenly asked. you whipped your neck to look at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in a headlight, did he catch me staring..?

you cleared your throat and grabbed a nearby pillow to try to cover your growing hard-on.

" w-what're you talking about? " you glued your eyes towards the tv, trying to seem as unbothered as you can, thou the stuttering clearly gave it away..

jason rolled his eyes and discarded the pillow you were clinging onto, " oh come on, don't play dumb now. "

he pinned you down on the couch, caging you in leaving you no choice but to look at him.

" don't tell me you didn't notice at all.. "

you tried your best to look at him in the eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about. well, he was really touchy.. his hands always found their way to touch you no matter.

he always knows just where and when to linger his touches to make you slightly flustered, the way he held your waist earlier still not leaving your eyes.

he also never took his eyes off of you ever since you stepped into his house. his eyes always trailing over to wherever you are, observing whatever the hell you are doing.

your cheeks got redder as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide from his gaze. " see i know you were a smart boy, now how far are you willing to go, bunny? "

you clasped your hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back to the back of your head. this is all too lewd!

you peeked down to look at him and the view below you was breathtaking.

jason's messy hair was now slicked back with his sweat, his big hands holding your legs open as his tongue worked its way on your dick. you could feel his tongue piercing along it, the added sensation making your thigh quiver.

you slowly released your hold on your own mouth, breath shaky. " jason, i-i'm close.. " your meal voice was shaky from the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

he hummed and just continued to suck you, his hand now fondling your balls, massaging them as if to coax you to release.

you gripped the bedsheet below you, the warmth of his mouth mixed with the occasional cold feeling of his piercing was driving you over the edge. with a loud moan, you finally released in his mouth, eyes closing in bliss.

jason swallowed it all, making sure not to leave any drop behind. you didn't know whether to feel grossed out by it or not.

" ready to move on now bunny? " jason asked you while grabbing a bottle of lube, squirting a glob of it on his fingers. you silently nodded and watched as he squirted another glob on your hole.

" cold.. " you whined at him, feeling the chilliness of the lube. " don't worry, i'll warm you right up bunny. " he smiled.

he first inserted one finger into you slowly, letting you get used to the feeling. he began slowly moving it, occasionally grazing over that spot that made you see stars.

he then inserted another and another, steadily picking up his pace and getting more rougher as time went on. your eyes shoot back open as you kept your lips as tight as you could.

you were close and jason seemed to know this too.

before you could reach your climax, he swiftly pulled his fingers out. you looked up at him in confusion, dumbfounded as to why he stopped. " w-why'd you stopped? "

he took off his boxer, tossing it somewhere else. " don't tell me you were gonna cum just from that. the real fun begins now, bunny "

you watched as jason stroked his own dick, pouring lube on it. he was big. maybe too big for you. " are you sure it'll fit.. " you asked him while your eyes still trained on it.

" don't worry.. " he aligned himself with your hole, " i'll make it fit. "

with that, he shoved himself into you, the student action made you let out a loud moan. your eyes instantly teared up from the sudden stretch. you bit your lips to make sure no other noise escaped from you.

he was so big and you felt so.. full. his tip perfectly kissed your prostate, almost as if you were molded just for him.

" look at you taking it so well.. i knew i should've stuffed you full the moment i saw you. "

you stifled another incoming moan. your hands both covered your face, trying to hide your flushed face. two hands suddenly held onto your wrist, effectively prying your hands off of your face.

" don't hide this gorgeous face from me now. "

his own fingers intertwined with your own as he pounded into you roughly, going fast and aggressive from the start. a string of moans left your lips, your voice shaky due to how fast he was.

soon, one of his hands sneaked its way onto your thigh, hoisting it up. you almost screamed from how much deeper he was inside you. you didn't think it was even possible.

" jasonn, i'm near.. " you whined. your own dick bounced and twitched begging for release. " i'm close too, bunny.. cum with me, yeah? "

you nodded while jason held onto your ankles, his fingers digging into the fabric of your converse high. he somehow began speeding up, chasing his own climax.

you closed your mouth with your own hand, knowing damn well your moans were echoing throughout the house already.

with no warning whatsoever, you felt the warm liquid soon filling your inside, dropplings of it escaping from your hole. the feeling of being filled with jason's thick cock mixed with his own cum running down your ass caused you to also release.

you shut your eyes as your release painted your stomach white, some of it landing on jason's.

after a few moments of silence, he then let go of your ankles, slowly pulling out. you winced at the feeling of emptiness. you rolled to the side, jason also crawling next to you.

you soon almost lull yourself to sleep before remembering that tomorrow you have to babysit maya. oh god maya. you prayed she was sleeping like a baby and didn't hear anything.

" shit.. i honestly can't feel my legs and i still have to babysit maya tomorrow... " you groaned out loud next to him, trying to brainstorm an idea on how to babysit that devil in your current state.

jason only laughed next to you. talking about how he'll figure out a way to deal with her tomorrow. you hope he will since you can't miss the pay...

[shouyuus]

i need vi to spit on my cunt before she goes to town on me

uH gOoD moRning to you too i guess! (im joking, i feel the same lmlsdfk it was just funny cause this ask came in at like 10am in the morning for me)

18+, mndi

no but she would, and she'd be a messy eater, wouldn't she? so sloppy the way she sucks on your puffy clit, no reservations at all about her own spit slicking down the sides her mouth as she eats you out, moaning into your cunt as she fucks her tongue into you, fingers digging into your hips as she grinds you against her mouth, gets lost in the way you're breath hitches, the way you say her name -- over and over again, till it starts to lose meaning and you're just whimpering from the overstim.

she'd wipe her mouth on the inside of your thigh before licking her lips and pulling herself up for a kiss, grinning at the way you're so eager to taste yourself on her tongue.

"taste so good, pretty girl. fuck -- just can't get enough --" before she's kissing and licking her way down your body to bury her face between your legs again.

(bonus points for her stuffing a pillow between her own legs to grind against while eating you out just to alleviate the pressure)

[velarisdusk]

Slip into something daring and explore the courts this October. Don't be shy—knock on the doors of your favorite characters. Will you uncover a dark, twisted secret, or indulge in a sinful treat?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: this is my first ever kinktober!!! ideally, i'll be posting every day from october 1st through 31st, but i'm in school full-time so we'll see lol. these will vary in length, but will all be relatively short this is all 18+ (duh) so please mdni! taglist is closed! enjoy!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

solo days (not reader insert; only 2 lol) will be denoted with a ☾

01 Sweet Surrender — Praise | Cassian

02 In the Wake of Absence — Caught Masturbating | Lucien

03 Before the Dawn — Edging | Tamlin

04 Unveiled Pleasures — Virginity | Rhysand

05 Whispered Echoes — Begging | Nesta

06 Shadows of Need — Mommy Kink | Azriel

07 Dreams of You — Wet Dream | Cassian ☾

08 Floral Reverie — Thigh Riding | Tamlin

09 Night's Cold Embrace — Dacryphilia | Rhysand

10 Twisted Silk — Bondage | Azriel

11 Fallen Grace — Degradation | Eris

12 In the Firelight — Size Difference | Cassian

13 Gentle Remedies — Medical Play | Elain

14 The Crown's Command — Boot Worship | Eris

15 Indelicate Distraction — Distracted Sex | Azriel

16 Searing Retribution — Impact Play | Cassian

17 Bound by Flame — Cum Plug | Eris

18 In the Stillness of Want — Orgasm Control | Rhysand

19 Held in Silence — Cockwarming | Cassian

20 Made for Him — Dollification | Azriel

21 Strings of Devotion — Pet Play | Eris

22 When the Stars Bear Witness — Cuckolding | Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel

23 The Weight of Expectation — 24/7 Scene | Cassian

24 Breathe in the Quiet — Predator / Prey | Azriel

25 In the Glow of Serenity — Somnophilia | Lucien

26 Murmurs of the Abyss — Mind Control | Rhysand

27 Garden of Eden — Tentacles | Tamlin ☾

28 Breathe Out Your Sorrows — Captivity | Azriel

29 Echoes of the Unruly — Monsterfucking | Tamlin

30 Lament of Control — Dehumanization | Rhysand

31 Subjugation — Fuck or Die | Lucien, Rhysand