Love And Deepspace X Reader - Blog Posts

Summary: Sylus doesn't like you coming home injured Characters/Pairing: Sylus x GN!Reader Word Count: 391 Warnings: Mention of minor injury A/N: I'm trying a new way of formatting so pls bear with me lol

"Why didn't you call me?

"I didn't want to worry you..."

"What worries me is that you think I wouldn't drop everything in a heartbeat to help you, sweetie." Sylus' warm palm caressed your cheek before gripping your face between his fingers. With his gentle yet stern hold on your face, he carefully inspected every inch of your skin. The most damage he managed to find consisted of the cut that embedded itself in your brow with the swelling of your soon to be black eye to compliment it. You flinch and he takes careful note of how much pressure he should apply when taking care of your wounds.

It was nothing bad. A low-level wanderer had caught you off guard during your routine stroll around the area surrounding the man's safehouse in the N109 zone. You knew you should have told Sylus where you were going, but you simply assumed Mephisto would keep his watchful eye on you as he usually does. Besides, you had taken that path more than a hundred times (that was an exaggeration) and there was never a wanderer in sight, other than today of course.

"It's really nothing, Sy." The nickname flows of your tongue with a small sigh. It always ignited something within him, keeping Sylus on the edge of his seat. Your voice was the purest melody, blessing his ears like any angel would. His steady hands pulled your face close, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours before he rested cheek against yours. Although he seemed big and bad, Sylus was utterly wrapped around your fingers. He shook his head, and you swore his frown deepened just the slightest bit.

"It's not nothing... You are injured." He spoke sternly, "And you didn't think to come to me first." Your eyes widened and face fell into a pitiful frown. You trusted Sylus, but the thought of being a burden lingered in the back of your mind. Instead, you simply nodded and swallowed back your words as those crimson eyes stared deep into your eyes. You would never live down this feeling, the guilt that would bare its claws deep into your back. But for now, you shook the feeling away and let the older man tend to your stinging wounds, relishing in the warmth of his palms and the depth of his gruff voice.

Working on the Bois today, Starting with Everyone's Favourite Fishie <3 🐠✨

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒

With the weather getting colder, you might find yourself cuddled up in blankets and sipping on some hot chocolate. Perhaps you would have an old, rugged looking book right on your coffee table waiting to be picked up. With fairytale season being in full swing, perhaps you would like to indulge in some nostalgic stories of enchanted forests, wicked witches, cursed princesses and bloodhungry beasts?

But oh, were your favorite fairytales always this 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨?

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

GRIMM'S NIGHTMARES is an exclusively dark content collab inspired by the dark fairytales collected and written down by the Grimm brothers.The central theme of the collab are dark fairytales, but you are more than free to enter the collab with mythical figures (werewolves, vampires, ghosts, etc) without any fairytale in mind. Despite being inspired by the Grimm brothers, you are more than free to be inspired by other classic tales from around the world. 

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𓆩𓆪 You have to be over the age of 18 to enter

𓆩𓆪 This collab is strictly a x reader collab

𓆩𓆪 All fandoms are welcome to enter

𓆩𓆪 Aged up characters are allowed, but please don’t age them down 

𓆩𓆪 Your entry has to be a minimum of 500 words long, otherwise the sky’s the limit

𓆩𓆪 Be aware that this is a dark content collab first and foremost. You are allowed to go as crazy as you would like, but make sure to tag all the trigger warnings accordingly

𓆩𓆪 As mentioned previously, you are free to enter with a mythical figure instead of a fairytale

𓆩𓆪 To enter, you need to send me an ask or message with the character(s) and the mythical figure/fairytale you wanna base your fic on

𓆩𓆪 You are allowed to submit up to two entries

𓆩𓆪 You are allowed ro write one fic with up to three characters (character x reader x character x character)

𓆩𓆪 No double entries!Meaning I won’t allow the same character in the same fairytale au (for example, I won’t allow two people to write about vampire Toji). First come, first serve

𓆩𓆪 I take the right of not accepting your entry. To ensure the best possible experience for me as the host, and you as the writer, I will have to make sure you don’t fit my dni criteria 

𓆩𓆪 Make sure to tag me and use the tag 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁 so I can reblog and add your fic to the masterlist

𓆩𓆪  The soft deadline for the collab is the 1th of April 2025. Please notify me if you need more time or if you would like to opt out of the collab  

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒

TOKYO REVENGERS

Werewolf! Baji Keisuke x Fem! Reader (Inspired by The little red riding hood) by @/ljubimaya

Mad hatter! Hanma Shuji x Reader (inspired by Alice in Wonderland) by @6ronze

Demon! Baji Keisuke x Reader by @keisukes-number1

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE

Demon King! Sylus x Reader by @aztecbrujeria

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Vampire! Gojo Satoru x Reader by @avatarofstars

Death! Geto Suguru x Reader by @sugurouge (Inspired by Death's messengers)

ARCANE

Warwick/Vander x Reader by @fortluocha (Inspired by Beauty and the Beast)

MY HERO ACADEMIA

WHO HAVE I REMEMBERED? Dabi x Reader by @amalainse (Inspired by The Frog Prince)

HAIKYUU

Oikawa Tooru x Reader by @amalainse (Inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Rafayel is the type of boyfriend to take you on a date to the aquarium and point at a fish and say “awww this one looks like you!” ☺️

And then the fish looks like this:

Clingy Sylus Texts

Massage

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“And the winning bid goes to Mister Sylus!” The screen announces. I turn my head away from my phone to face Sylus.

“Are you really just going to bid all night?” I ask.

“Well it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do now, kitten.” He says, standing up and tilting his head back.

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have business to attend to?” You say, also making your way off the couch.

“You didn’t book the entire hotel. I had the money and there was a vacant room.” He shrugs, avoiding your question.

You roll your eyes and make your way back to the couch to continue scrolling on your phone. Sylus does the same and rests his head on the back of the couch, slightly groaning at the stretch it gives his neck.

Noticing this you inquire, “Why do you keep stretching your neck? Do you have back problems or something?”

Sylus stands up and makes his way towards you, placing his hand on your head and tilting it down lightly. “Try leaving your head like this for hours and see how you feel afterwards kitten.”

You move his hand from your head and look up at him. “I never realized looking down at so many people would be such a problem for you. Poor thing.” You sarcastically reply, rolling your eyes at him.

Sylus doesn’t reply and instead retreats back to his seat on the couch where he continues to rub his neck.

“Ughh” he groans, rolling his head back and forth.

“Are you just gonna sit there and moan? Why don’t you take you millions to a massage chair.” You tease.

“That’s a great idea kitten, why don’t you come over here and rub my neck for me?” He smirks.

“I meant a real masseuse Sylus.” You say rolling your eyes at him.

“But you’re right here, why go through the hassle? Come on sweetie,” he pats his shoulder, “just give me a little massage, I’ll even do you afterwards if you’d like.”

Giving in to his teasing you get up and stand behind him. “Fine. But you can’t sue me if I break your neck or something…” you begin gently working your fingers on his scalp.

“Oh sweetie” he shivers. “I’d love to see you try.”

Pressing your fingers harder against his neck to really knead into his muscles, you find it harder to reach his shoulders through his sweater.

Taking note of this Sylus asks, “Having trouble sweetie? I can remove this if you’d like.” He motions to his sweater.

“N-no! It’s alright I can manage…” you mumble, flustered at his obvious flirting.

“I insist, after all what kind of masseuse would you be if you couldn’t even manage to get my shoulders?” And with that he swiftly removes the grey sweater, showing off his bare torso entirely to you.

“You’re so irritating sometimes…” you whisper, running your hands along his bare shoulders.

He doesn’t reply, instead letting out a low moan at your touch.

“Ohh right there sweetie.”

The sounds send shivers down your spine and you decide that you’d like to hear more of those sweet sounds from him.

You’re tracing your hand down his chest when all of a sudden he grabs your wrist.

“And what do you think you’re doing sweetie?”

“Nothing! I was just going to massage-“

You’re quickly cut off by him flipping you over the couch and pinning you down.

“Really, that’s the story you’re going for? If you wanted to feel me up you could’ve just asked.” He teased, grabbing your hand and running along his chest.

“What! No I- you’re the one who wanted me to massage you in the first place!” You accuse, pointing at him.

“Hmm… This is true, but I’m not the one who got carried away with my wandering touches.” He growls into your ear.

Blushing furiously, you turn your head to the side so he won’t be able to see your face. “Ok ok! Just let me up so I can finish your massage now!”

He grabs your chin and turns your face to his.

“Oh no kitten, it’s your turn now.”

Thinking about…! how your personal space is never really yours when Caleb’s around ♡

He’s always got to be in close proximity to you. An arm around your shoulder, another around your waist… It's like he’s made of gummy candy, and all he wants is to be stuck with you. 

He says he needs to leech off your body heat sometimes, but you both know why he does it. He’s clingy. 

HATES being separated from you when you’re right there. What do you mean why is he so close to you, is there a problem? Don’t you want the same? (How could you say no?)

His personal bubble is yours, and vice versa. Caleb can’t stand the thought of you without him draped all over your body. He’d trap you in his arms forever if he could </3

At night, he can’t rest easy until he has you within his reach. Would love to end the day with you in his lap. He’d play with your hair if you asked, give you a massage if you wanted… anything’s fine, as long as he can touch you.

When it’s time to sleep, he manhandles you around in bed. Hiking one of your legs over his hip, he slots his thigh in between yours, pressing your bodies as close as he can. It’s not even a sexual thing for him sometimes, the physical intimacy of it all just makes him so relaxed.

He’s never been more content <3

Caleb // focus

Pairing: Caleb x fem!reader ☆ Fluff, suggestive themes at the end! ☆ ~700 words

Based off this interaction:

“Stop moving.”

“You’re pulling too tight.”

Caleb sighs, running his fingers over the spot where he had tugged. His touch is lighter than it was before, but he still clicks his tongue as you shift in your seat. You can’t help it—the afternoon heat makes you feel gross!

“You’re ruining these braids.” He mumbles. “Told you to stay still, pipsqueak. Don't follow orders well, do you?”

You reach a hand around your back to hit him on the thigh, scowling, “Watch it, colonel. I should be the one complaining, you’re disturbing me.”

From behind you, Caleb chuckles. He’s close enough that his breath fans the back of your neck, deft fingers resuming their motions of plaiting your hair. The room fills with a comfortable silence, accompanied by the quiet taps of your keyboard, and Caleb’s soft musing.

“...What if I go bald because you’re pulling on my hair too tight?”

Though you can’t see him, you can imagine Caleb rolling his eyes, annoyed frown on his face and all. The image makes you bite back a grin.

“Wouldn’t have to wrestle with it if you’d stop moving, pipsqueak.”

“Remind me why you’re suddenly giving me a new hairstyle again?”

His easy laughter rumbles through his chest, warmth radiating against your back. “I told you… I’d braid your hair if you didn’t focus.”

“I’d focus better if you weren’t so distracting.”

“Oh really?” He hums, voice teasing. In one move, Caleb spins your chair around to face him. He tilts his head to the side, peering at you through his lashes. “What part of me is such a distraction, huh?”

Mischief sparks in your heart as you grab his chin, pretending to examine his face. He lets you, pulling your chair closer to his, settling you between his legs.

“This lethal face card, duh. What would you do without it?”

“You like my face?” His smile grows wider, cheeks flushing. “Tell me more.”

“Fishing for compliments?”

“Only from you.”

His response is so quick it makes you giggle.

Caleb reaches out a hand to pat your head, careful not to disturb the braids-in-progress. Softly, he urges, “Go back to work, honey. Let me continue mine.”

You don’t get to argue before he’s spinning your chair back around, making you face the papers strewn about your table, and the endless documents on your laptop. You pout.

As if sensing your displeasure, he leans over slightly to press a kiss to your temple. “Sit tight, pipsqueak. I’m almost done.”

It’s early evening when you’re finally done with everything. Euphoria fills your veins as you shut your laptop and shove the papers to the side, arching your back for a good stretch.

Caleb’s still seated behind you, arms coming to wrap around your waist. He rests his head on your shoulder.

“Finished? Perfect timing,” He says, “I’ve been wanting to show you these for ages.”

“Aww, you waited for me?”

He looks at you, deadpan, and you grin at him sheepishly. Of course he would.

“C’mon, lemme see.”

At your request, Caleb drapes the braids over your shoulders, passing you a hand mirror at the same time. You gasp at the sight—while you were focused on work, he had put a lot of effort into decorating your hair. Familiar clips and ties adorn your new hairstyle; you recognise them as ones he had chosen for you on your last shopping trip together.

You see Caleb watching you in the reflection, eyes bright and curious. The smile on your face matches the one on his.

“I did a good job, didn’t I?” He asks. Pride’s laced in his words.

Laughter bubbles out of you—he’s right. Despite your moving around, Caleb really did a good job. Seeing how much care and attention he put into this makes your tummy flip.

“Is this really how you spent your day off, colonel?” You tease, “Braiding my hair?”

“Well… the day isn't over yet.” Caleb hums, pursing his lips. He reaches to take the mirror from you, placing it face down on the table. “I can think of other ways we could spend our time together.”

The sudden change in tension has you speechless—you barely suppress a shiver as his fingertips trail across your skin, featherlight and teasing. One hand slides lower, slipping under your shirt, caressing the flesh there. For a second, your mind blanks, breaths turning shallow, before Caleb nips at the back of your neck. The warmth of his lips snaps you out of the fog clouding your mind.

“Okay,” You whisper, twisting around to crawl into his lap. He startles a little at the shift in positions, but his surprised expression quickly morphs into something heated. Narrowed eyes, flushed cheeks… you lean down to bite at his bottom lip, and he lets out a low whine.

“But you have to stay still and focus on me, yeah?”

The only thing I regret reading this is that I haven’t found it earlier!? I reread some parts multiple times! I’m sick as fuck but reading this made me feel DIZZY!! Zayne is my baby and I can’t put into words how much I appreciate this masterpiece. This had me on my knees.

Overc*mming Writer's Block

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

♱⋅── zayne x reader

♱⋅── tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp

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

♱⋅── word count: 9.3K

art credit to @/kaito_aii on X

You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.

Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files. 

You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.

After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.

Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.

You doubt you ever will again.

In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request. 

Michaela - Boss Man

checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?

talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :( 

she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes

pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help

You - Little Star

Hey Micheala

You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further. 

You - Little Star

No I get it, thanks for trying though

I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time

And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again. 

It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for. 

Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.

Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now. 

With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line. 

You groan  as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor. 

residency-CS-alerts

Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent. 

Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.

Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.

He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.

Safe to say, you admire him just a little.

You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case? 

You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat. 

Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer. 

“Tell me what you see.”

Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings. 

You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.

 “What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”

He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”

Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered. 

Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”

Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?

Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”

“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”

“More detail than that, please.”

A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”

Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”

You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day. 

And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.

Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either. 

Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers. 

Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain. 

You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling. 

Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.

Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.

Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”

“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.

“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”

You die a little inside. 

“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”

Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?

Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table. 

His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."

"I accept!"

The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content. 

The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."

You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."

Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”

You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way. 

After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth. 

"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”

You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s. 

A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream. 

It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever. 

Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth. 

If that were all, then everything would be perfect. 

If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own. 

But of course, the plot has to thicken. 

Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all. 

But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming. 

Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone. 

This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.

And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.

Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture. 

"You're late."

You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."

"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."

"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?” 

You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."

"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"

"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."

Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”

You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”

“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"

"We are."

“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”

"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."

You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”

You sit. Zayne follows. 

Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”

“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”

“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”

“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”

You’ve really outdone yourself this time.

Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.

“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”

Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.

“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”

Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.

"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."

You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.

"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”

“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.

"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."

"You have."

Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.

"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."

When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”

You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.

"What do you mean by help, exactly?"

"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"

There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t. 

"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"

A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”

Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”

“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.

“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”

The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.

You nearly laugh.

“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”

Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”

And he chokes. Again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.

Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.

“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”

You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”

Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.

"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."

The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.

But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?

"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"

Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”

A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”

“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.

He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"

You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."

"It's a deal then.”

He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."

His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."

And with a wave, he's gone.

You don’t know what you expected. 

Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.

You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked. 

To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.

Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes. 

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.” 

Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”

Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him. 

You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."

He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself. 

"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.

Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.

"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.

"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”

Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.

“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”

His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you. 

You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck. 

But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone. 

You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you. 

“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. “Where would you like to do this?”

You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.

Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.

And with that, you lead him to your room.

Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue. 

Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next. 

He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.

“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”

As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.

Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.

As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."

Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.

You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.

He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"

"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.

Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are." 

His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.

"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.

"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.

“Do not mistake my care for pity.” 

Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.

Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."

Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.

His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin. 

It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.

All for the better, you remind yourself.

He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm. 

Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.

Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop. 

Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.

“No.”

His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.

“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.

You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.

Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”

“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.

You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.

It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive. 

You think you’d let him.

Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.

Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.

Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.

Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”

You can barely manage a nod.

“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”

Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.

And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.

Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.

And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser. 

It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.

"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."

His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.

He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.

When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."

The bastard.

You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.

Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion. 

You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.

"Slower. You're going too fast."

You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?" 

Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."

As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you. 

Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers. 

You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase. 

“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”

You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.

"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own. 

“Good. It feels really good.”

Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.

It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.

You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.

But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.

You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."

The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.

“Again. Deeper.”

It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit. 

You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.

His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. 

“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”

“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”

It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly. 

You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.

At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.

The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force. 

Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.

He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.

And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor. 

You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.” 

You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”

A promise he has every intention to keep.

Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth. 

You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.

 “That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”

His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob. 

"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“

Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."

You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."

"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”

“My voice?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”

You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”

You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.

And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest. 

“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”

He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.

The rhythm is comforting.

Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.

“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”

Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls. 

When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.

"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.

"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.

You nod.

"What else, darling? Are you close?"

Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it. 

"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.

"Come. Come for me, darling."

And you do.

Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.

The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.

Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.

"How are you feeling?"

The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.

Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”

Zayne stiffens. “Good.” 

He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.

“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.

You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you. 

But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine. 

You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.

᧔o᧓ comfort .ᐟ

xavier love and deepspace fluff/slight angst! x female reader. comfort fic. reader is in a deep depression. ong this is js based on me. she feels so empty but keeps going like a robot. xavier helps her feel better. i just wrote this for comfort to myself because i havent been feeling well at all.

Xavier didn’t question why today you seemed to crave his touch and attention more than usual. Normally, affection flowed freely between you and your boyfriend, but lately, an unshakable heaviness had settled in your heart, dimming your once vibrant spirit. Despite your unwavering love for Xavier, nurtured and deepened through time, the weight of depression had become an unwelcome companion.

You lounged in the bedroom of your shared apartment, having not left bed since the previous afternoon. Xavier noticed the deterioration, how you stayed awake till morning, slept through the day, and needed reminders to eat. When he checked on you, concern etched in his features, you waved him off with a feeble excuse about needing a break from hunting, urging him to focus on work.

How was he to continue his day knowing the woman he cherished was in pain? He knew better than to pry when you weren’t ready to open up, fearing it might worsen your state. Yet today, when he returned home, you greeted him at the doorway in one of his hoodies and shorts, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Miss you,” you whispered, seeking solace in Xavier’s embrace. He held you tightly, his voice a comforting balm as he asked, “How are you today, my love?” Tears welled in your eyes at his tenderness, and as they spilled over, Xavier gently lifted you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

His murmured reassurances were soft as he laid you down, his hand soothingly rubbing your back. “I’m here. I won’t leave,” he promised, his caring gaze a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. Gratefulness swelled within you for a boyfriend as attentive and loving as Xavier.

Quickly shedding his work clothes for comfort, Xavier slid under the covers beside you. His skilled hands encircled your waist as he drew you close, pressing kisses to the crown of your head. You clung to his scent, fingers tightening on his shirt as if afraid he might vanish. Tears continued to streak your cheeks, each one a testament to the ache in Xavier’s heart. He leaned closer, kissing away your tears, silently urging you to speak.

“Sorry for pushing you away lately,” you finally began, your voice cracking with emotion. Xavier shook his head gently, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears. “You don’t need to apologise, angel.”

“I feel so lost, Xavi... I don’t understand what I’m feeling... I love you, that hasn’t changed, but I feel drained, empty. I feel like I’m just going through the motions, like a hollow shell. I push you away because I’m terrified of dragging you into this void with me. I feel selfish that you take care of me like this, like some sort of burden.”

Xavier listened quietly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. When you finished, he caressed your hips tenderly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Never feel terrified about ‘dragging’ me anywhere. Whatever you’re going through, I want to be there with you. I love you deeply, and I’ll be patient. If you need space, I’ll give it. If you want me close, I’ll stay. If you want to stay in bed, wear my clothes, I’ll support you every step.”

His eyes held yours with unwavering sincerity, offering you his heart and strength. You hiccupped through a smile, feeling a weight lift as Xavier’s words enveloped you in warmth and security. “I love you,” he whispered again, his touch tender against your tear-streaked face.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, leaning into his touch. Xavier kissed you lovingly, pouring his heart into the moment, promising silently to be your anchor in the storm until the darkness lifted.

“If you feel like a void, let me fill it with everything I have to give,” he murmured against your lips, sealing the vow with a kiss.

Fast drawing of this boy

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Olvidé subir estos curis, voy a hacer más porque son muy divertidos

⟡ ݁₊ .٠࣪⭑M1SS!0N 01: NASTY D0G!! NASTY D0G!!✧˖°.

—.٠࣪⭑SYNOPSIS Why do all your panties keep disappearing? ‘N’ why does Caleb keep sneaking out of your room when you're gone? ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

—.٠࣪⭑GENRE smut, porn with little plot —.٠࣪⭑PAIRING Caleb x chubby reader (has chubby reader in mind, anyone can read this tho) —.٠࣪⭑WORD COUNT 5.9k

—.٠࣪⭑WARNING fem!reader, sexual content, pwlp, grammar error, NO spoilers, panty stealing, pet names (pipsqueak idc, little apple, baby), masterbation, switch Caleb, msub to mdom, oral (male & fem), marking, a lil orgasm denial, degrade ‘n’ praise, face fucking, clit spanking, cum drinking, perv! Caleb, fingering, squirting, face down ass up, spanking, breeding, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it)

A/N I’m here to finally feed the Caleb whores <3 (me too, babe)‼️‼️Sexy reminder, my request box is open soooo.. drop ‘em off..

It’s already been a whole week since you’ve noticed that a considerable amount of your used panties have suddenly disappeared without an explanation! Every night, once you finally come back from work, you’ve noticed that some of your cutesy panties have vanished. 

And they are all conveniently your favorites, the dark red, lace, flimsy, cute lingerie that constantly rides between your asscheeks. 

Regardless, they were super cute! There could only be one person who could be behind such a nasty and vile crime. Caleb. 

Your childhood best friend, who you definitely do not have the hots for him, who is now your roommate. You rarely see him leaving the house, though, occasionally you have to force him to leave the house to go to the grocery store when you’re too lazy to do it yourself. Especially when you’re called into work, he never leaves, as if Caleb waits for you to leave to sneak into your room, he must be the one stealing your lingeries! 

Yet again, you were called into work. This time, you were there much longer than you expected. You are beyond exhausted, body tired from having to carry yourself in heels. Plus, work has been so stressful and tiring, you desperately need to relax.

Oh, you can not wait to finally yank off your heels! You’ve been stumbling around this whole time! Your poor legs screaming and crying for a break. 

Eventually, you arrive at your home, the sun long gone. When you push open the front door, it’s uncharacteristically quiet. Normally, Caleb would be relaxing on the sofa or cooking your favorite meal in the kitchen to pass the time while he waits patiently for your arrival like a puppy.

Well, except for the frequent grunts and groans. The sounds are muffled, coming from further into the house. The grunts, groans, and huffs were deep, raspy, low, and rather pleasant to your ears. 

You reach down to slide off your heels from your sore foot, inhaling sharply, shivering in delight and moaning in approval. You attempt to ignore the questionable sounds, marking it off as Caleb working out. Many occasions you would accidentally walk into Caleb rooms, catching him during his workout.

But, he usually works out earlier, never this late. Not that you were complaining, far from it. Accidentally walking inside Caleb’s room, seeing him wearing nothing but a black tank top, his body and shirt glistening with his sweat. 

The salty liquid trickles down the curve of his muscular body, making a mess beneath him. His cheeks would be rosy red, sweat dripping down his forehead, lips parted slightly as he breathed heavily, his brows furrowed in concentration. He spends a considerable amount of time working on his biceps and thighs, you must admit, they look absolutely ravishing. 

Caleb’s body is very defined, well built, massive, definitely on the stronger side, and taut. He could definitely manhandle you. He is a beefy guy, there is no way around that fact. You try not to think of your dear roommate like that, how improper of you. 

But fuck, would you do absolutely anything to get your greedy hands on him. You slowly walk through the hallway with shaky legs, stumbling from how sore they are. The sounds only get louder and louder the closer you go.

His room was further down the hallways, yet, you stand directly in front of the room and it sounds like Caleb’s groans are coming from inside. “Oh fuck~ pipsqueak..” Caleb sighs breathlessly, voice muffle from the door being shut.

“M-Miss you so much..need you so badly.. hah-“ he whines, grunting. 

Oh. Oh, Caleb is not working out right now. You slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the gasp threatening to escape your lips, your teeth nibbling onto your bottom lip. You press your ears to the door, trying to hear him better.

You feel awfully hot. Your face flushed pinkish red, heat pooling to your belly. You feel flustered, embarrassed, felt like you were intruding Caleb’s.. self care moment.

“H-hate it when.. ooh~ you leave for work” Caleb groans, voice cracking slightly. 

“You have no f-fucking idea what you do to me..” he huffs, he sounded exhausted yet needy. 

That delightful heat in your belly pools to your cunny, you're painfully aware how turned on you are. You push your plump thighs together, grinding them together in an anguished attempt to ease that addictive throb between your legs. You can feel your poor clit throbbing, aching, buzzing, begging to be toyed with.  

You let out a quiet whimper, glancing down your body. Your nipples are hard as a rock, imprinted on your useless bra. Caleb must have forgotten to shut the door, letting you take a quick peek. You curiously lean closer, your eyes scanning the room in search of Caleb. 

The intense smell of sex knocks you, clouding your senses. Caleb is lying on your bed, sweaty and very much naked. His eyes are hooded, fogged up with lust, desperation, and heat. His cheeks are beaming red, fat sweat droplets dripping down his forehead. 

Caleb’s lips are red, parted slightly as he lets those divine sounds. Your gaze trails further down his body. His chest rises and falls hastily, glistening with his sweat. 

You glance further down, again. His cock is fucking big, thick, long, swollen, and hard. You can see Caleb has thin veins running up his shaft. 

His bulbous tip is angry red, precum leaking from his tip. Caleb’s cock glistens, shining from his own arousal. He strokes his cock up and down at a medium pace, his thighs tensing up when his dick twitches in his hand. 

That sweet heat pools to your cunt, sending strong shivers through your body. Your pussy flutters around nothing, begging to be filled with his fat cock. You swear, you can feel drool dripping from your lips. 

You lift your gaze back up to his handsome face, recognizing an awfully familiar lingerie pressed against his pointy nose. Caleb inhales sharply, goosebumps prickling onto his skin, letting out a soft pathetic whine. He lazily licks at the fabric, groaning in approval at the tangy yet sweet flavor of your pussy juices. 

Was Caleb that desperate that he turned to steal your lingeries to get off? He nuzzles his nose deeper into your pantie, inhaling your pungent and intoxicating scent of your cunny. “Fuck..” Caleb exhales. 

How do you even wear such a skimpy thing as this so comfortably? It’s so tiny, he doubts it’d be able to accommodate your pussy. If you asked, Caleb wouldn’t mind holding your pussy for you, being your own personal lingerie if you’d like. 

Caleb lets out a satisfied, loud groan at the thought of this. He strokes his cock a little faster, his breath shallow and labored. You can’t take this anymore, he’s teasing you without realizing! 

You push open your door quickly, relished by that frightened and ashamed look that crosses Caleb’s face. “Is this what you do when I’m gone? You know~ I was searching for my missing panties” you murmur.

“I didn’t think you were this nasty, Caleb” you tease, smiling wickedly at that nervous expression on his face. 

“So? What do you have to say for yourself?” You question, an brow arching up, inching closer towards him. 

“I-it’s now what it looks like, baby-“ He smiles anxiously, fearfully glancing aware from your piercing gaze.  

You hum in amusement, sitting beside him, watching him silently try to cover his hard cock with your blanket. You lift your hand, your fingers barely grazing against his insanely hot skin. Caleb gulps, his breath caught in his throat.

“If you wanted me that bad.. you could have just asked for my attention, Caleb” you giggle, your lips pressed so closely to his ear.

You push away his sweat soaked hair from his face, kissing his ear. You press a tender kiss to his lips, feeling him instantly melt from your touch. Caleb grabs your hips tightly, holding them like his life depends on it.

You pepper delicate kisses down his chin to his neck, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from the man. You kiss his adam’s apple, feeling it throb under your soft touch. Caleb’s fingers dig into your fat hips, thick fingers digging into the chub. 

You press hot kisses up the middle section of his neck, further up until your lips are barely grazing his lips. “Oh, Caleb~ you really are so nasty, I like that about you” you taunt, teasingly leaning closer as if you were going to kiss him. 

Caleb tries to lean closer to press his lips against yours, only for you to push at his chest. You push at his sweaty chest, his back pressed against the bed. You snatch your lingerie from his hands, tossing it to the corner of your room.  

“Baby-“ Caleb trails, your fingers silencing him. 

“Shh, let me handle this” you tut.

Caleb’s tongue licks at your fingers, his eyes fluttering shut, lapping at your digits. You pull away, pressing warm kisses down his pecs, abdomen, all the way down to his swollen cock. It twitches in the air, begging for your attention only. 

And who are you to deny him such pleasure? You never said you’d let him cum though, he has to learn his lesson somehow. You press a tender kiss to his tip, hearing his breath falter only encourages you to continue. 

You move to sit in a more comfy position for you, your thighs press beside his head. You spit onto your hand, smearing it onto his cock, stroking it up and down in a lazy manner. Caleb groans quietly, both of his hands holding your hips tightly. 

He bites at your thighs, eliciting a squeal of surprise from you. He bites at the fat of your thighs, leaving as many marks as he could. Caleb loves the way you moan in pain, it only feels his arousal. 

He tries to tug you down gently onto his face, huffing in annoyance when you don’t budge. Caleb tries again, still you don’t budge. And again, and again.

You huff, resting your clothed pussy against his eager mouth, shivering when he moans against your cunny. He presses a gentle kiss to your covered pussy, his tongue rubbing against the fabric of your shorts. 

You lick at his tip, rolling your tongue around the poor swollen tip. Caleb bucks his hips upwards, pushing his length into your mouth, summoning a gag from you. Your moan is muffled, sucking his big tip into your mouth. 

You focus on giving him barely any pleasure, boredly lapping at his tip. You know he’s desperate for more, but you won’t give him what he wants. You rest your hands on Caleb’s meaty thighs, nails digging into his skin when he tries to buck upwards. 

You roll your tongue around his poor tip, his precum tasty salty, tangy, yet still yummy. A shiver runs through your body, his tongue running against where your pussy is. Caleb is desperate, you almost feel bad for him, almost. 

You suck more of his shaft into your mouth, feeling him twitch violently in your mouth. A slick pop, his cock slipping out of your mouth, your spit trickling down to his base. From his bass, you lick slowly up, dragging your tongue against his base to his tip again. 

Again, you take his cock into your mouth, this time, sucking more to his length into your mouth. You’re trying your best not to gag around his dick, but it’s too difficult not to though! Caleb’s big, thick, and long, you’re struggling to take him fully into your mouth.  

Caleb grunts against your pussy, 

sending delicious vibrations through your body. You can feel his thighs twitch, tense, and contract around your hands. You bob your hand up and down his length, moaning and whimpering.

Your eyes fluttered shut, concentrating on sucking messigly on Caleb’s dick. His tip nudges at the back of your throat, earning himself a gag and whimper from you. You cup his swollen balls, they are swollen with tons of cum. 

Fuck, poor Caleb, he must haven’t been able to cum for so long. You feel him throb in your mouth, oh he’s so close. You continue to gag on his length, a wet pop, his cock lewdly slipping from your mouth. 

Caleb bucks his hips up, searching for the missing warmth of your perfect mouth. He was so fucking close, and you denied him! Caleb whines against your cunt, his tongue rolling against your covered, fat pussy lips.  

“Sorry, babe. I can’t let you cum, you have to learn your lesson~” you purr cruelly, seeing his dick swell, precum dribbling from his tip.

You tenderly kiss his tip, teasing him again after denying his orgasm. Your saliva drips down his shaft, coating his length in a thin layer of spit. You cup his cock, pumping his dick up and down.

Caleb throbs in your hand, precum spilling his tip. You let go again, giggling when his grip tightens around your plump hips. You press his tip against your lips again, sucking his length into your mouth.

Instead of only sucking half of his length inside your mouth, you take more. Caleb’s length disappears deeper and deeper into your throat, until your nose is pressed against his skin. His shaft is buried deep in your throat, precum dripping into your mouth. 

You gag loudly, shaking your head side to side. Your eyebrows are furrowed, eyes closed shut as you focus on sucking Caleb’s cock. Your tongue rubs against the bottom of his shaft, lapping and rolling your tongue. 

Your nails bite into his skin, surely leaving a crescent mark behind. You let him slowly slide out of your throat with a lewd pop, letting out gasps for breath. Your lips are swollen, red, glistening with a mixture of your spit and his precum. 

“Oh c’mon.. I’ve barely done anything” 

“Don’t cum-“ you josh, only to be interrupted by Caleb.  

Caleb flips the both of you, your back pressed against the bed. You grunt, eyes widening, your lips parted slightly from shock. He keeps a bruising tight grip around your thighs, keeping you pinned against the bed. 

“I think you’re the one who needs a punishment, little apple” He grumbles breathlessly, letting out a quiet chuckle when you squirm.

“You’ve been acting like a brat, nothing similar to the good girl I know” Caleb says with spite, proving your hips up with a pillow.  

He tears off your shorts and panties, tossing them to the corner. Caleb parts your thighs open, your folds spreading apart to expose your wet slit. Your cunny is glistening wet, pussy slick with your own wetness. 

“Mmh.. you're soaked, makes me think you are just as nasty as I am” He teases, chuckling when you whine angrily. 

“Not as bad as you are” you huff. 

You rest your hands by your side, spreading your thighs wider to give him the perfect view of your soaked pussy. Caleb’s breath hitches, his fingers peeling your pussy lips apart. 

“Well.. punish me then” you hum, whimpering softly when his hard cock pressed against your lip. 

Caleb hums, chuckling softly, finding humor in your courage and determination. “Open up then, little apple” Caleb encourages, groaning loudly when his dick slides into your eager throat. 

You moan around his length, digging your fingers into the bed sheets below you. Caleb only pushes half of his shaft inside your mouth and you're already having such a hard time, your throat convulsing around his length. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut, you don’t regret it all though. 

Caleb hums quietly, running a thick finger through your fat folds, your juices smearing onto his fingertips. He peers down at your wet cunny, your tasty arousal oozing from your fluttering hole. He spits onto your cunt, his spit dripping from your swollen clit to your hole. 

You mewl around his cock, his length disappearing into your mouth, buried to the hilt of your throat. You never thought sucking cock would be so.. addictive and pleasurable for you. You feel light headed, so obsessed with the way his cock twitches inside your mouth. 

Your toes curl up, you pussy clenching around nothing uncontrollably. You’re abruptly aware how painfully empty you feel, you need something inside your gummy entrance. Fingers, tongue, cock, anything. 

“Not talking so much, are we, pipsqueak?” He asks, grinding his teeth together when your throat tightens around him.

“F-fuck.. hah.. good girl” Caleb moans out.

Hearing him call you a good girl only fuels your desperation, heat pooling to your belly. You whimper, sending delicious vibrations through Caleb’s body. He grunts, his balls pressed against your forehead, so heavy with cum.  

You slide your hand against the bed, inching closer to your clit. You need something, anything to ease that painful, uncomfortable feeling between your thighs. Before you’re able to rub your clit, Caleb snatched your hands, peeling it away from your cunny.

He replaces your hand with his, rubbing yummy circles onto the bud. Your back arches off the bed, pussy clamping around nothing. Your throat constricts around his dick, eliciting a groan of pleasure from Caleb.

Caleb pulled his hips back, until only the tip of his dick was inside your mouth. He snaps his back, stuffing his cock to the hilt of your throat. Your eyes shoot open, tears springing in your eyes. 

He lets go of your thighs, resting his hand beside your side. His hand sneakily moves to your clit again, rubbing steady circles onto your clit. Caleb chokes out a moan, breathlessly chuckling when you attempt to squirm and flinch from the luscious pleasure. 

“Hah- d-don’t squirm away from me..” he groans, giving your clit a soft spank. 

Poor you, do you really think you’ll be able to squirm away from him? Caleb would laugh, if he wasn’t groaning and whimpering from how well you're taking his cock in your throat. He can hear you gagging quietly, the wet slurping sound of you sucking at his cock. 

Caleb keeps a steady yet shaky pace, sliding his cock in and out of your hungry throat, fucking your face as he would with a toy. Your cute gags and whimpers were music to his ears, making his balls tense up. Wet plaping sound fills the room, his balls slapping against your forehead. 

Caleb glides his fingers through your folds, tracing the ring of your gummy entrance. The obscure squelching sound of your pussy gushing around his fingers fills the room, along with the frequent gagging of your throat. He’s so close, his thrust getting more sloppy than coordinated, if it was ever.

His fucking your mouth as if his life depends on it, hitting the back of your throat. Caleb twitches and throbs inside your mouth, so close to finally being able to achieve what he wants. To cum.

You just had to deny him, teasing him and not letting him cum. Now look at you, sucking and licking his cock like a good girl. “F-fuck. Ooh~ your throat feels.. amazing, pipsqueak” Caleb chokes, grinding against your face.

You whine, gripping the sheets tightly, almost to the point you can hear it tear. Caleb lets out a string of moans, his hips twitching. His groans are only getting louder, his thrusts sloppy.

“S-shit.. gonna cum.. oh, baby~” He purrs, burying his cock to the hilt of your throat. 

His cock jolts, hot cum shooting into your throat. Caleb’s cum tastes sweet and yummy, or maybe you’ve gotten addicted to his taste. Your moan is muffled, you eagerly drink up his cum. 

Caleb lazily grinds against your face, groaning and panting. After a couple of seconds of grinding against your face, while rubbing your clit, he pulls his hips back.  

His dick slowly slides from your mouth, absolutely covered in your spit and his cum. Thin strings of spit connect his shaft to your lips. To Caleb, you look ravishing.

Your eyes are hooded, fogged, lips sticky with cum, dried tears in the corner of your eyes. Caleb’s cock jerks, shooting more of his creamy cum onto your cheek. You smile dumbly, scooping up his cum to lick it off your fingers. 

“Ooh~ fuck.. y’know, I think I like you much more when you don’t talk that much, pipsqueak” Caleb taunters, grabbing your thighs to spin you around to where your pussy was facing him now.

“Mmh? Is that so? Sucks to suck then, I plan on talking your ears off” you say between pants.

“And I thought you loved me, so mean..” you pout, licking off extra cum from your lips.

“Oh hush, Y’know I love you, baby” He scoffs, smiling lovingly at the cute pout on your face. 

“Well.. I don’t feel that loved” you mutter, glancing down at your dripping pussy, neglected.

“Why is that?” Caleb asks, not catching the look you send him. 

“A certain someone has been neglecting me..” you mumble, looking him in his eyes.

You keep eye contact with Caleb, slowly looking down your body to direct your gaze to your pussy. He follows your gaze dumbly, finally relaxing what you were implying. “Ooh.. ‘m sorry, I didn’t realize I was neglected you, baby” 

“Need me to clean you up?” He teases softly, running a finger through your slit.

“Ugh- Caleb I swear to fucking god, if I have to ask you again-“ you threaten, growing insanely impatient.

He chuckles, grabbing your soft thighs. Caleb peppers hot kisses on your thighs, teasingly nipping at the fat. He tosses one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your other leg to your chest.

His hot breath fans onto your swollen cunny, sending delicious shivers through your body. From your fluttering gummy entrance to your swollen, his hot tongue darting between your wet folds. Caleb moans in approval at the tangy yet tasty flavor of you.

Caleb finally is getting a real taste of your tasty pussy, it’s definitely better than him lapping at your panties. You taste better than he could ever have imagined. You whimper softly, burying your fingers into his hair.

You tug, eliciting a pained grunts from the man between your thighs. Caleb slurps at your clit hungrily, sucking the swollen bud of your clit into his mouth. His tongue flicks and massages your clit, making your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Your jaw goes slack, your back arching off the bed. Caleb chases after your cunt, not giving you even a second to squirm away from his starving mouth. “N-no.. don’t squirm away from me, pipsqueak” Caleb tuts.

“Let me.. enjoy you” he mumbles against your clit, his breath blowing onto the flesh. 

He slurps at your clit, moaning loudly. “Fuck.. y-you taste even better than i imagined” Caleb says, his words being interrupted as he can’t resist the urge to lap at your clit.

He’s acting like a starved man who’s finally being able to enjoy a meal after countless years. Caleb trails a thick finger to your gummy entrance, his finger promptly plunging inside your fluttering hole. You squeal melts to a moan of delight, your walls immediately caving around his finger. 

It was only one, only one finger and your toes are already curling up. Caleb doesn’t seem to care, no, he seems to be entranced with sucking at your clit. His fingers easily slip inside your cunny, the slick you made giving him easy access. 

His finger plunges deeper into your cunny, stretching your gooey walls apart. Caleb curls his finger, his fingertips nudging against your g-spot. You yelp, face scrunching up in pleasure as you tighten around his finger. 

You wail, tugging harshly onto his hair. Eliciting a grunt of a mixture of pain and pleasure from Caleb, who slips another thick finger into your gushing pussy. “Ooh~ oh fuck!” You gasp, your thighs trembling. 

Your walls happily accommodate the stretch of his fingers, your arousal coating his digits in sticky juices. Caleb’s lips pulls away from your clit, focusing on finger fucking you. Your cunny is disgustingly loud, the obscure squelching sound filling the room. 

It doesn’t take you that long to get closer, the constant scissoring and curling of his fingers were too much for you to handle. Caleb quickly recognized that you’re getting close, it isn’t hard for him to notice when you're constantly fluttering and clamping around his fingers. He pressed his hand to your plump belly, applying a strong amount of pressure. 

His fingers slam in and out of your gushing pussy, your poor cunny clamping around him uncontrollably. Caleb’s fingers are curled, pushing against your g-spot with every push inside your cunny. Fat tears waters in your eyes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth. 

“Hng! O-oh god! C-Caleb!” You gasp.

“ ‘m gonna cum! Ooh~” you drool, jaw going slack.

“That’s right, cum f’me, little apple” he encourages.

You let out a loud cry, that heat in your belly swelling until it snaps. Your juices sprays from your pussy, the squelching sound of your cum gushing from your cunny. The iridescent soaked his hand and the bed, drenching the fabric. 

“Hng.. hah..” you pant, body trembling.

Caleb hums, a slick pop as his finger slips from your gummy entrance. He gently slaps your clit, summing a flinch from you. He’s a mess; face soaked from your juices, eyes clouded, eyebrows scrunched, and a dumb cheeky grin on his face. 

He keeps eye contact with you, licking your juices from his lips. “Little apple.. you taste so good~” Caleb mutters.

“Want more..” he sighs, sending you puppy eyes.

“N-no! Absolutely not” you huff, grimacing when he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth to lap your nectar clean off the digits. 

He pouts, grabbing your hips tightly, flipping you over again. Caleb guides your head into the pillow gently, eliciting a muffled grumble of protest from you. His hands trails from your head, to your hips, arching your back to where he got the best view of your pussy;  fully exposed fully to his hungry gaze.

And oh fuck, did you look absolutely ravishing. Your folds glistening from your juices, thighs shining from your own arousal. Caleb grabs at your plump hips, groaning, thick fingers sinking into the squishing chub. 

“Fuck.. I’m leaking so much precum everywhere..” Caleb murmurs to himself, pressing his bulbous tip against your slick folds. 

“And it’s all your f-fault, pipsqueak” 

“Y-you’re going to take care of me.. right? Take care of what you created” Caleb mutters, his voice softening.  

You whimper in response, nails biting into the pillow. He lets out a loud groan, his tip slipping into your cunny. You wail into the pillow, fat tears trickling from your eyes from the stretch. It was painful, yes, but it was still so fucking pleasurable. 

The way your gooey walls split apart, trying to accommodate his fat cock, felt so fucking good. You shiver helplessly, goosebumps prickling everywhere on your skin. You cave and clamp around his dick, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from Caleb. 

It was as if your walls were eagerly trying to milk him dry, sucking him deeper and deeper into your cunny. More to his shaft disappears into your hungry cunt, the squelching sound of your messy pussy reaching your ears. You sob, chewing the fabric of the pillow between your teeth. 

His grip tightens on your hips, to the point it would leave an obvious bruise behind. You’ll definitely be sore in the morning, but it’s worth it. Caleb’s hand grazes down your back, your spine, fingertips barely touching your skin yet it sets goosebumps everywhere. 

He trails further down your body, until his hands are by your asscheek. Caleb grabs at the fat, gripping, fondling, and gripping the fat as if he was toying with it like a stress toy. More and more of his length sinks into your cunny, leaving an aching feeling in your belly. 

Caleb is so big and thick, you love it. You can feel him twitch and jerk inside your cunny, plunging the rest of his cock to the hilt of your pussy. “Oh f-fuck! L-little apple, y-you’re so tight-“ he stutters, breath hitching. 

His hips are flushed against your ass, hot and sweaty skin pressed up against each other. His bulbous tip is pressed so snuggly against your cervix, his shaft massaging your g-spots. Caleb pulls his hips back, until only his tip was inside, slamming his back to yours, plunging his back inside your wet pussy with a loud wet plap. 

With every thrust, his balls would knock and slap at your aching clit. It sends violent shivers through your body. Caleb’s balls are heavy and full, begging to coat your walls in creamy white. “Hmp! Mmhp!” You moan into the pillow, walls tightening around his length. 

“Hah- t-take it. Take it, pipsqueak” Caleb babbles dumbly, letting out a raspy groan. 

His thrust is erotic and lewd, his abdomen slapping against your ass. Your ass jiggles, bounces, and ripples with every thrust, it’s hypnotic. You wail loudly into the pillow, bucking your hips towards him, pushing your pussy closer to Caleb. 

Your toes curl up, the heat in your belly getting stronger and hotter by each rough pump. Caleb’s cock glides and massages your walls, eliciting such delicious muffled moans from you. If only he could hear you. 

He tosses his head back, exposing his adam’s apple. One of Caleb’s hands let go of your hips, pushing on your back, keeping your back arched. “A-arch.. oh god- your back.. m-more” he choked out a moan, your pussy unexpectedly clenching around him.

You can feel him twitch and throb inside your cunny, he’s just as close as you are. Your eyes roll back so far, you swear you can see stars explode in your eyes. “Hng! Y-your all mine! M-mine, mine, baby” Caleb babbles, the pleasure and blood must have gotten to his head. 

Caleb lets go of your ass, quickly slapping his hand onto the fat. You squeal, a pleasurable sting blooming on your poor ass. “Y-you’re all fucking mine, baby” he pants. 

His bulbous tip bangs against your cervix, his shaft twitching and throbbing inside your pussy. “Hng! C-Caleb..” you scream it or wh pillow.

Caleb drags you back onto and off his length, you’re unable to escape the mind numbing pleasure. “Oh fuck! Y-you feel so amazing..” Caleb gulps, spanking your ass again. 

You yelp, that heat in your belly is unbearably strong. Your toes curl up, eyes rolling back. Another spank, sending shivers through your body. 

“O-oh god! L-look at how -fuck, red your ass is” He groans, another rough spank on your poor ass.

He can feel you getting tighter and tighter, your pussy clenching around him so tightly. “Oh fuck-“ Caleb grunts, entranced of the way your pussy take him in and out. 

His cock is drenched with your juices, shining with your juices. Another spank, sending you reeling forward. Your body tenses, pussy fluttering uncontrollably around Caleb’s cock. 

You cum, hard. Those tears pour from your eyes, trickling down your cheek to the pillow. Caleb lets out a choked groan, your cum making a thin layer on his shaft. 

It’s sticky, sticking onto his abdomen. “Hng! L-little Apple.. you’re gonna make me.. cum” he moans, whimpering quietly. 

You can feel him twitch frequently in your deepest parts, his cock begging to cum. The obscure squelching and gushing sound of your pussy fills the room, it’s embarrassingly loud. The wet plaping and fwoping sound fills the room, his abdomen and thighs meeting your ass. 

“G-gonna breed you- you’re all mine!” Caleb says between gasps and groans, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. 

One, two, three thrusts were enough to throw Caleb over the edge. He groans, body trembling against yours as his hot cum shoots deep into your overstimulated pussy. You mewl, clamping around him tightly as if to try to make sure his cum doesn’t spill out. 

Caleb grinds against you, keeping his cock plunging deep in your pussy. His cock slowly slides out of your pussy, his creamy cum slowly trickling out of your cunny. He rolls you over again, laying you onto your back.  

You’re finally getting to see him, and oh fuck, does he look like a mess just like you. Caleb’s eyes are hooded, filled with desperation and need. His cheeks are rosy pink, sweat dripping down his forehead. 

He leans down, licking your breasts, teasing the bud. Caleb places wet kisses to the valley between your breasts. He presses hot kisses down to your belly, trailing further down to your sloppy pussy.

“Hng- what are you doing?” You hiccup, wailing loudly when his tongue dives between your folds. 

Fat tears roll down your cheek, body twitching from overstimulation. “C-Caleb! S’too much!” You protest, wailing. 

The pleasure must have made him dumb or he’s ignoring your whimsy complaints. Caleb laps hungrily at your pussy, targeting your gummy entrance. He slurps up  your cum, seemingly unbothered that he’s drinking up the sticky mixture of his cum too.

“Hng.. we taste so good..” be purrs, diving between your pussy lips. 

You sob, squirming around. Caleb grunts against your pussy, his tongue rolling up and down through your fat folds.

“Hah- I’m not down with you yet, pipsqueak..” Caleb huffs, his tongue dipping into your gummy entrance. 

“Hng! N-no!” You squeal, drool dripping from your lips. 

You’re already so sensitive, that heat in your belly builds up quickly. Caleb’s tongue swirls and wiggles, rubbing and massaging your walls. You buck your hips up, tipping your cunny closer to him. He hums, grabbing your ass.

Caleb holds you still, messily slurping at your cunt. You wail, clenching around his tongue. You gush around his tongue, making an ever larger mess. 

Caleb moans in approval, instantly drinking up your delicious nectar. “You taste so.. good, pipsqueak” he gasps, lips parted as he gasps for air. 

He hovers over your body, leaning closer to you. “Ngh! N-no!” You huff. “You’re so nasty!” You huff. 

“So you don’t love me anymore, little Apple?” Caleb pouts, sending you puppy dog eyes. 

You can’t take him seriously, not with a mixture of yours and his cum is dripping down his lower chin.

“I do love you..” you mumble, pretending to gag when he kisses your cheek.

“And no more stealing my panties!” You huff, attempting not to smile at the genuine shocked and offended look on his face. 

“Mmh, no promises, pipsqueak” he hums, resting his head on your sweaty chest.

⋆˚࿔٠࣪⭑All work belongs to ME, translating and copying is not allowed✶⋆.˚

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