Iâm Zinnie. Iâm 20+ and my favorite color is pink. I'm a Sagittarius Sun/Gemini Moon/Cancer Ascendant. I play LADS. I main Sylus, Zayne, and Caleb. Beyoncè & Ariana Grande are my Queens. I stan BTS, Red Velvet, Girl's Generation, The Boyz, ĂŚspa, and Twice. If you have any questions, hit up my ask. :)
the thing is depression was never destigmatized the narrative just switched from âno one has depression youâre just using it as an excuseâ to âeveryone has depression youâre just using it as an excuseâ
Men who talk shit about gold diggers underestimate the grit it takes to put up with an insufferable man, even when money is involved. We should be thanking them for their service like they are veterans.
A special thanks to @stardustsirens, I love your beautiful brain đ
Twenty minutes. You'd been gone twenty minutes before you turned around, halfway to work, because your work folder was still sitting on the kitchen counter.
Valko had stayed the night, though not the way anyone would assume. You'd cooked too late, ended up on the couch watching movies until midnight and the idea of him driving home just to come back in a few hours was ridiculous. So he'd stayed. Folded that huge body of his onto your couchâwhich was built for exactly one normal sized humanâinsisting he was fine even though you both knew his neck would hate him for it in the morning. He hadn't so much as brought up sharing your bed. That line was still there between you, respected without either of you having to say so out loud.
Your living room was empty now. The throw blanket sat balled up at one end of the couch, still warm, still carrying that earthy scent that clung to him. You figured he'd finally given up trying to get comfortable and left for home.
Things had been tight between you two for weeks â not bad tight, just like the kind that builds when you're close to someone in every way but one. Curling up next to him on that couch last night, close enough to feel him breathing, had taken more out of you than you wanted to admit. You'd gone to your own bed after and tossed for hours, finally giving up and finishing yourself off against your pillow just to get some sleep.
You grabbed the folder off the counter, shoved it in your bag, turned toward the door already dreading the way back to work.
Your foot stopped.
Through the crack in your bedroom door came a sound â low, cut off at the edges like it hadn't meant to get out. A hitch of breath, rough with something needy.
You don't move. For a few long seconds you just stand there, blood rushing in your ears, telling yourself you imagined it. Then it comes againâlouder, unmistakable. A deep, broken whine bleeding through the door, underneath it the slow, rhythmic creak of your mattress.
Something hot drops straight to your navel.
Your feet move before you decide to let them, carrying you to the gap where the door hinges open. You don't need to push it. You can see everything
Valko is on your bed, completely stripped of the restraint he usually carries around you.
On all fours, every muscle in his back straining with each roll of his hips. Both your pillows are underneath him. One is pinned between his thick, heavy thighs. The other is crushed against his chest like he's holding onto it for dear life.
The fat tip of his cock is already leaking clear precum, smearing wetly against the fabric with every thrust. The muscles of his ass bunch and flex rhythmically, his tail swishing low and frantic from side to side, brushing against his calves like he can't control it.
His nose is buried deep into one specific corner of the pillow, taking big lunges of airâsniffing the hell out of it. Strands of saliva string from his parted lips, his eyes are squeezed shut so tight his eyelashes tremble. He looks like he's desperately trying to engrave that scent into the deepest part of his memory.
The heat that floods your face is scorching and mortifying.
That's where you'd been last night. Grinding against that exact spot, face buried in your own sheets with his name stuck in your throat, thinking thoughts you'd never planned on anyone knowing about. He has his nose pressed right there. Breathing you in like it's the first clean air he's found in days.
The hallway feels like it's closing in. You can't move. The folder is shaking in your hand and you can't make yourself look away.
Valko moves his hips down again and the groan that tears out of him is nothing like his usual voice. It's scraped raw, stripped of every careful thing he usually puts between himself and the world.
"Fuckâ" The word drags out of him slow and broken. His face presses deeper into the pillow, lips parting against the fabric, inhaling so hard it pulls into his mouth. "Smells so good. So fucking sweet"
Your stomach drops.
When he pulls back to thrust again you get an unobstructed view of him, and your mouth goes dry. He's huge, veins mapping his cock in thick ridges, the head flushed a deep red and slick with everything he's been leaking onto your pillow.
"There you go," he breathes, eyes still squeezed shut, hips rolling down in a slow, grinding push. He's talking to the pillow. He's talking to youâor the idea of you, the ghost of you he's got his hands on. "Take it just like that. Let me get all the way inside that pretty cunt, puppy."
He makes that sound againâa high, needy whine that has no business coming out of something so bigâand his ears flatten tight against his skull. His rhythm stutters, slow grinds breaking into something harder and more desperate, the whole bed frame groaning with it.
"Such a good pup," he mutters, tail thrashing wild against the mattress, fingers curling into your pillow. His voice is getting rougher, darker, words spilling out like he can't stop them. "Gonna stretch you out so nice. Fill you up with everything I've beenâ" A sharp, punched out groan. "You'd take it, wouldn't you? Every single bit of it."
His thighs grip the pillow tightly, his whole body going rigid as he grinds down and holds it there. His knuckles are stark white, fingers curled past the point of grip, something closer to desperation made physical. You can see the effort it's taking him to hold back. Every thick vein along the back of his hands stands out in rigid relief, branching up his wrists, mapping the strain all the way to where his forearms flex with each movement.
With every snap of his hips the tension climbs higher. Up his biceps and across his broad shoulders, the whole architecture of him pulled tight. He is holding the pillow like letting go for even a second would mean losing the last thread of you he has access to.
Like if his grip slips, your scent goes with it.
His hands have never looked like this. You've seen them steady holding a weapon, calm giving an order, certain in every situation that called for certainty. Right now they're shaking slightly. Not from weakness.
But from the effort of not having the real thing.
The ache between your thighs is unbearable and the urge hits you like something physical, pressing into your sternum until your body stops listening to your brain entirely. You want to tell him yes. You want to walk into that room and pull those pillows out from under him and put yourself there instead.
Your foot moves forward one step.
That's all it takes. The tiny shift in air carries your scent right through the gap in the doorâlaced now with the edge of your arousalâand delivers it straight to him.
Valko goes completely still.
His ears snap upright, swiveling toward the door, and his head follows a half second later. Through the narrow crack his eyes find yours instantly, pupils blown so wide the gold of his irises is almost gone. The room sits heavy with the smell of sex and the sound of both of you breathing.
He doesn't cover himself and your eyes drop without your permission.
The sight of you watching himâyour scent hitting him fresh and fullâis what does it. You watch it happen. His cock swells further, skin pulled tight, a low growl tearing out of his chest and his hips give one last involuntary roll forward.
He cums with his eyes locked on yours the entire time.
He stares straight through the gap in the door, unblinking, holding your gaze with an intensity that makes your legs feel unreliable, as the first thick streak of white paints your pillow. Another spasm rolls through him, another rope of cum landing heavy over the exact spot your scent had soaked into the fabric last night. Over and over until the last bead clings to the tip and stretches thin before finally dropping.
His chest heaves and his tongue drags slowly across his lower lip and then his canines like he's tasting the air. His tail gives one long, heavy thump against the mattress.
He's still staring a hole right through you.
âYou are completely fucked.
And while we're here @ekay-i .... PLEASEđđť. Valko deserves a spot in the pillow humpers art. i am begging on my knees đ§đťââď¸đŤŁ
Okay, I was just going to reblog this without commentary, but I can't keep this to myself. I'm a PhD student in environmental science and this is my fucking highway.
The first published study about climate change (that I am aware of-- feel free to point out if there's an older one) is an 1896 paper by Svante Arrhenius. He pointed out the link between the greenhouse effect and changes in atmospheric CO2.
Plate tectonics, which the geoscience community now recognizes as near indisputable, was a fringe theory until about the 1960s.
Just in case anyone thought that climate change was a "recent fad" in research.
Valko asks it all casually, clacking away at his laptop as you sit on the couch, one of your legs right next to his shoulder, brushing it a bit.
He tries his best not to sink his teeth into the plush of your thighs, eyeing it as his cock starts throbbing. He tries so hard not to snatch your phone up and throw it, demand your damn attention, sniff you.
It's especially hard not to sniff you when you smell so fucking sweet, ruining him every time he is alone with you - which is often, given the assignment you two were on together. That and you have become friends, which he doesn't wanna fuck up with the wolfish way he wants to claim you.
Bite you, mark you, make you his.
Breed you-
"It's just Caleb," his eyes narrow behind his glasses now, looking right at you. "What? He is in town."
"Uh huh... Caleb," he repeats- he knows his ass is obsessed with you. Who could blame him, really? But you should be paying attention to him right now.
Not Caleb!?
"Well, what's he saying?"
"He was asking to come to dinner and... ah! Did you just bite me!?" He growls before he can stop himself, his teeth sunk into your thigh. You suck in a breath, smacking at him. "You bratty dog!"
"I am not a dog," he grumbles, smirking at the glittery teeth marks on your skin. "Tell him you are busy."
You blush when he sets down the laptop, spreading your thighs and kneeling, his ears twitching as he looks up at you - your heart hammers in your chest.
"Oh. Should I?" You tease, breathless when he slides his hands up. Sharp nails press against your delicate skin.
Leaning forward, he is far too close, inhaling your skin, breath against your inner thigh, making your pussy drenched.
"Valko..."
"Tell him. Now, sweetheart," he murmurs, done with pretending.
He needs you.
He can smell your juices, see the darkening of your panties when his pretty eyes flicker to your cunt. Pushing your thighs further, you drop the phone.
"Ah-ah," he bites your other thigh. Your hands come to tug on his fluffy ears, making his tail twitch side to side. Cock leaking. "Tell him you're busy."
"Fuck, okay," your shaky hand picks up the phone, your eyes getting lidded when his nose brushes your pretty pussy over those panties, you suck in a breath at it, fingers faltering. "mngh..."
"Tell him," he says in a soft little hum, inhaling you again, palming his cock to adjust it, feeling it swelling with how badly he wants to devour you. "If you wanna cum, you will."
"Fuck you're a brat," you mumble as he tugs you closer, shoving your knee up over his shoulder, nose inhaling your cunt again. "Are you gonna just sniff me !?"
"Till you answer," he sighs. "I could do this and cum."
"Freaky wolf, ah!" He bites your inner thigh, your juices just slippin' down further, in rivulets against his face, his glasses fogged up with his breaths. "F-fine."
Sorry Caleb - I'm busy tonight.
You show him the screen, and he smirks, a curve of his lips.
"Good girl."
Fuck.
Valko tugs your panties aside, looking at the mess your cunt is and moaning at the sight, tongue hot as it laps you from your ass to your clit, then back down, not just tasting - he's fucking lavishing you, spit soaked tongue dragging through your folds. "V-Valko I..."
"Good, good, good... good girl you're s-so... good," he's gripping you bruisingly now, slurping your messy, needy hole, the juices just pouring - his adam's apple bobs as he gulps you down, his glasses just slightly askew from the way he's drinking you. "Taste s'good... fuck..."
He could almost cum from the taste alone, greedily dragging his tongue from your slutty, quivering hole to that twitchy clit, all while you're gripping his hair with one hand, the other rubbing his ears. It feels so good as he lets you coat his taste buds, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.
You shatter so fast, but he's not even trying to make you cum - he just needs your taste, he needs your scent, biting your clit before he can stop himself, the action having you squirt right down him, all over his sweater and his collar. He laughs softly as you whine out, arching your hips, thighs quivering.
"Please... in me, mngh..." You see his slick face and blush, the dark mess you made on his sweater apparent as he takes it off, standing, his cock leaking through his sweats.
You go to touch him but you don't get a moment, he's got you turned and bent over the living room table, that sweater of yours gripped in his huge hands, claws ruining the material without him meaning to. He spits right on your cunt just to make it even messier, it's so wet she doesn't even need it, laughing as you arch, thighs shaking.
The phone goes off.
Valko hums a bit, looking at the message.
"Aww... he misses his 'pips'. Cute," Valko laughs, lost now - he's not the goofy little jerk you're used to, not when he's lining his reddened tip with your hole - no, he's feral. "Should we show him how you're doin'? Hmm, sweetheart?"
"N-no, psycho," you're wetter at the idea, and he notices, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, torturing you as you arch, begging for more. "In me, in me... in - ah!"
Valko slides his veiny, thick cock deep, his tail wrapping around his body and tickling you as he groans, head falling forward, that heavy weight pressing you down. He's as big there as he is everywhere, his grin against your skin felt before he bites your neck, shoving in fully.
"S'deep... you're..."
You're a babbling mess when he pins you there, twitching inside you, cock dragging your sweet spot and kissing it over and over again. You're a drooling mess the more he moves, the more his cock rocks in and out, thickening and swelling impossibly.
"Should call him, huh baby? Let him hear your cunt he wants s'fuckin' bad," Valko can't stand it then, thinking of anyone with the girl that should be all his, every instinct on fire. "All mine, yeah baby? Breed your messy cunt till you're all mine, can't even talk, can you?"
"Mhm," you're shattering when he fucks you faster, meaner, a hand on the table bracing himself as he bites your neck till blood drips, lapping it up so his lips are crimson, moaning against your skin. "Valko... please..."
"I'll give it all to you," he's sinking his teeth again - marking you his, ones he hopes last and last, as his cock is soaked, and your tacky walls are milking him. "Fill you so full, won't be able to see anyone, will you?"
You shatter with one more drag of his fat tip, and that's when it pushes him over the edge, his knot swelling as his cum fills you to the brim, coating your walls in white. He's biting your shoulder, your neck, your arm, everywhere he can, as that fat knot stretches you, hurting so bad you're in tears - but fuck it feels good.
"So much... s'much, V-valko..." you whimper as he moves that knot, kissing all the places he's marked you, moaning softly. His tail twitches as it tickles your skin, his ears curving down.
"Perfect, f-fuck you're so... oh baby I don't think it'll go down I..." He's never had this happen, not being able to calm it down, locked and knotted so thick in your tiny cunt. He keeps kissing you, moving back a bit, hearing your little sharp breath. "Want me to keep this cum plugged inside you? Hmm, breed you, baby?"
"Yes, yes," you're drooling, looking at him with dilated eyes, all covered in his marks. "K-keep it all.. in ... your knot it's so..."
"Mhm, I know baby," he's soothing you even as he rocks it in just an inch - back and forth, until he's pressing all his cum right against your puffy lil cervix.
You're cummin' again and again, but what you don't realize is...
Valko left Caleb all of that on a voice message </3
Please have a moment of silence for the people who were killed instead of freed when news of emancipation finally reached the furthest corners of the american south.
have another moment for the ledgers, catalogs, and records that were burned and the homes that were destroyed to hide the presence of very much alive and still enslaved people on dozens of plantations and homesteads across the south for decades after emancipation.
and have a third moment for those who were hunted and killed while fleeing the south to find safety across the border, overseas, in the north and to the west.
black people. light a candle, write a note to those who have passed telling them what you have achieved in spite of the racist and intolerant conditions of this world, feel the warmth of the flame under your hand, say a prayer of rememberance if you are religious, place the note under the candle, and then blow it out.
if you have children, sit them down and tell them anything you know about the life of oldest black person you've ever met. it doesn't have to be your own family. tell them what you know about what life was like for us in the days, years, decades after emancipation. if you don't know much, look it up and learn about it together.
This is Juneteenth.
white people CAN interact with this post. share it, spread it.
đŹ 7  đ 64  â¤ď¸ 828 ¡ Sylus/Reader - Ovulating ¡ Note: âClick hereâ to see the original request! Am I ovulating? Yes, yes I am LOLLL. Thank yo
8.Cuddles that get sexual then sweet again with Xavier.(Early in relationship)
Check out the rest of my Horny thoughts list here.
đMDNIđ
The movie had been on for maybe forty minutes before both of you stopped watching it.
You'd started on opposite ends of the couch, then closer, then his arm was around you and your head was against his chest, and at some point you'd shifted so your back was to him, his chest warm against your shoulder blades, legs tucked behind yours. The TV murmured while the rain outside tapped the window.
"You still awake?" Xavier asked. His voice sounded relaxed.
"Barely," you admitted.
He made a soft sound against the back of your neck. Almost a laugh. His arm, draped over your waist, tightened just a little bit, like he was checking you were still there.
For a while that was enough. The warmth of him, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, his thumb tracing absent little circles against the fabric of your shirt. Back and forth. You weren't sure he even knew he was doing it.
Then his hand spread flat against your stomach "Is this okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah." The word came out softer than you meant it.
His hand moved slowly, no urgency anywhere in him, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt until his palm found skin. He was reslly warm.
"Still okay?"
"Xavie..." you said his name like a small complaint and felt him smile against your hair before his hand moved up, reaching the edge of your bra.
"Can I?"
Something about the way he asked made your chest go a little soft. "Yes," you said. "You can."
He was careful. Curious. Like he was learning something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. When his hands finally cupped your breast you exhaled slowly, his breathing making the back of your neck feel hot.
"You're soâ" he started, then stopped himself.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just." A pause. "You."
You didn't push him to finish the sentence because you couldn't think about anything else but the fingers currently playing with your pebbled nipple.
His mouth pressed once to the back of your neck. Then again, lower. "Do you wantâ"
"Yes." You didn't wait for him to finish that one either.
His hand found its way back down, giving you time to change your mind, until you felt his fingers learning the shape of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties before slipping beneath it. The sound you made came out before you could stop it. He breathed out against your neck, quiet and unplanned, like you'd caught him off guard too.
He paid attention to every detail, the hitch in your breathing when he found the right rhythm, the way your hand reached back to grip his thigh when he pressed a little more firmly. He adjusted without being told and slowed down when you tensed, kept going when you exhaled. The circles around your clit stayed steady, patient, with just enough pressure to make your thoughts dissolve one by one.
When you moved your hips, just slightly to chase the feeling, he responded, moving with you instead of against you.
You gripped his forearm with both hands "There..." you managed, barely.
"Yeah?right here?" he sounded like he was pretty pleased with himself.
His mouth moved to the back of your neck again and you felt yourself winding tighter and tighter untilâ
"Let go, I've got you, bunny..."
"Xavâbaby..." it came out quiet and wrecked as he held you through it, pressing his lips once to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your jaw.
After a few seconds you turned slightly, just enough to look at him. His eyes were soft. A little undone, maybe. Like he'd gotten something out of it too.
"Hi," you said
"Hi," he said back before pulling you closer, tucking you against him again with his chin resting on top of your head, his thumb doing that thing again against your side.
The movie ended and the credits rolled but neither of you moved to turn it off.
"Tired?" he asked eventually.
"Mm."
"Good tired or bad tired."
"Very good tired."
He made a low almost laugh again. Outside the rain was quieting.
You fell asleep before he did, thinking this was the most comfortable you'd felt in a long time.
Turth be told, Sylus has never had such a genuine and at ease smile on his lips as he had the first time you finally, finally fell asleep with him.
It was an uphill battle. For one, you struggled to sleep normally. Always going to bed too late snd waking up just before he was about to sleep himself.
And for two, even when hed try to go to sleep with you, you wouldn't. Not unless he was asleep. You'd cuddle with him, yes, but never sleep. Sylus kept his thoughts to himself, but he thought It was very cat like how you couldn't sleep if he was watching.
But tonight? You were just about tired enough. Your eyelids heavy as you laid in his arms, when normally you'd swear you two were just horizontally hugging.
And then you fell asleep. Breath evened out, body relaxing.
A victory in its own right. Sylus didnt even dare to breathe, in case his chest moving or warm air hitting your head would stir you. Even when his body started to feel numb, he didnt move.
Sylus would keep you here forever, if he could. Hopefully this was the first of many. A part of him, while wanting to just watch you all night, can't help but feel sleep, which is normally elusive at this hour, tug at him. Maybe due to the weight of you on his chest. Or, the snores leaving your mouth that youll deny come morning.
And well... when you finally do wake up, its to sylus' own gentle snores. He's so loud... but you arent too annoyed when you scoot closer and shut your eyes again.
xavier loves when you get longer nails so you can scratch his head when he rests it in your lap, and if you stop for even a second he'll whine and peak open his eyes up at you like a disappointed cat until you keep going
sylus runs warm, and most of the time you end up not even covered by his plush duvet, but by him. His arms snug around your waist and his head on your chest the perfect blanket as you fall asleep.
zayne has this cute way of teasing you by stealing your candy on occasion. He'll kiss your cheek then your lips, lulling you into a false sense of affection then will slip the candy right out of your mouth with that slight smile on his face.
caleb puts you an air jail when you're being petty and giving him the silent treatment, and only lets you down if you agree to give him a kiss and tell him why "his pipsqueek is being so moody."
rafayel insists on applying your lipgloss/lipstick for you. He always steals your lip gloss before you can put it on yourself, insisting that his artist's eye can do it better. He'll gently tilt your chin up with two fingers, carefully applying it while studying your face with far more concentration than the task requires. Once he's finished, he'll lean back with a satisfied smile and hum, "Perfect."
⥠princessxmin please do not alter, copy or translate my work !
truly, madly, deeply
â§.* zayne x reader
â§.* 5.3k words
â§.* friends to lovers
summary: zayne loses control
warnings!: needy, pathetic!zayne, first time smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, creampie, zayne cums in his pants again???, zayne isn't a sub but...the potential is there
note: intended as a sequel to exclusive tutorial
divider cred. @enchanthings-a
Itâs been three days since you left his apartment and Zayne can still smell your perfume clinging to the space around him.
After you fell asleep on his chest, heâd carried you to his bedroom and left you alone to sleep, not wanting to wake you for fear you might leave and the whole night would crumble. He imagined waking up, face smushed against the papers on his desk back at the hospital, the evening of you trembling in his arms, coming on his fingers, gone from existence.
It wouldnât be the first time that had happened.
He had taken the couch, worried he might overwhelm or spook you if he got into bed with you after everything that had happened. There was no way you werenât gonna end up in his arms, his hips grinding his dick into your ass the moment his body woke him up. He had to regain some semblance of control, and so, heâd slept on the sofa. When he woke up to a call telling him he had to get to the hospital for an emergency surgery, heâd poked his head through the doorway to his room and found you sleeping soundly, his blankets twisted around your bare legs. Heâd smiled, relieved, and had left you a note. By the time he got back six hours later, youâd left, and his note sat exactly where heâd left it on the pillow in his room.
He tried not to spiral, he really did, but it didnât take long for the old thoughts to creep in. You donât deserve her, youâve ruined your friendship by mauling her last night, now she doesnât want to speak to you. Heâd spent the last three days worried he had pushed you too fast that night; he had meant to teach you how to kiss, goddamnit, not lose himself in you. Heâs like an addict where youâre concerned, and he worries he wonât be able to return to any sense of normalcy now that he knows how you sound when you come. The way youâd whimpered his name has been the soundtrack to his life every day since, and now, as he shrugs off his jacket in the hallway of yours and Calebâs grandmaâs home, he is itching to see you again.
âZaynie, youâre here,â A small, white-haired woman walks through the archway and grabs Zayneâs hand, smiling up at him before reaching up to pat him on the cheek, âYouâre too skinny. You need to eat more,â
He smiles down at her indulgently, âIâll be sure to do that, granny,â
âGood,â She sniffs, letting her arm hang off the crook of his elbow and dragging him through to the living room, âCaleb is already here. Dinner will be ready soon, once ___ is here we can eat. Where is that girl?â
Zayne letâs Granny wander through to the kitchen, muttering to herself, and walks over to the sofa opposite Caleb, who watches him with a familiarly blank expression. Zayne isnât sure when the two of them went from friends toâŚwhatever they are now, but he does know that theyâve grown to tolerate each other for your sake, and Grannyâs.
He feels uneasy under Calebâs eyes, as if he knows every little secret - as if he knows about what he did to you the other night. He wonders with a faint sense of alarm whether you would have told him, but he doubts it. Even so, he busies himself looking at his phone to avoid Calebâs assessing stare.
Dinner is painfully awkward, and you canât even bring yourself to look around the table. Just being in Zayneâs presence puts you on edge, his eyes trailing over your form as if he is touching you.
When youâd walked into grannyâs house, you had immediately sensed Zayne was already here. Walking into the living room just to see him sitting there, one long leg propped on his knee, his black shirt stretching over the same broad shoulders youâd dug your fingernails into as youâd rocked in his lap the other night. A shiver works its way through you at the memory, and Caleb leans over.
âCold?â
You look up only to immediately lock eyes with Zayne for half a second, darting them towards Caleb instead, a stiff smile on your face, âNo, Iâm okay,â you say, but your gaze is soon magnetised to the man opposite you once again.
Zayne doesnât take his eyes off you, chewing his food slowly. His ears are pink, and you wonder briefly if heâs thinking of that night. You wonder if heâs mad you left, and that you havenât returned any of his texts, but your worries are washed away when you remember that Zayne doesnât get mad. At least he never has with you, but maybe now itâs different.
You really hadnât meant to leave him hanging - that night had been such a whirlwind youâd barely processed it by the time you were unlocking the door to your apartment and walking in wearing the same clothes from the night before. You had never done the walk of shame before, never had the chance, but what you did with Zayne didnât make you feel shameful. Quite the opposite, you felt hot, charged with a painful desire you hadnât felt before. The same desire that had led to your hands working their way into your panties the last two nights, trying and failing to recreate the magic that Zayneâs fingers had worked on your body.
The reason you couldnât speak to him after all that was because you werenât even sure what you were meant to say, or do. Youâd never done this before, never even had a crush on a friend before, and you had realised each time youâd opened up your message thread with Zayne only to close it again in frustration, that youâre out of your depth.
You want him - your thighs ache with it, your underwear already dampening each time you watch Zayneâs fingers shift around his chopsticks, and you know heâs watching you. But heâs your best friend, heâs one of the most important people in your life, and you canât bear the thought of somehow messing up and losing him.
What if youâre bad at sex? What if he gets impatient or annoyed when you donât know how to make him feel as good as he made you feel? Youâve heard horror stories from your friends about their first times, and youâd gotten close to having sex with a guy back in college, but you had chickened out the moment you walked into his dorm room and saw the condoms on his nightstand.
He hadnât even kissed you, and heâd bought condoms.
But thereâs a part of you that thinks it would be different with Zayne. Heâs a man, not a boy, and the raw, feverish way heâd kissed you the other night makes you hope that maybe it would be enjoyable. Maybe you wouldnât be writhing around in pain like your college friends used to describe their first times.
The idea of it suddenly makes you clench hard; new, foreign muscles locking tight at the idea of Zayneâs hands on your body again. When you shift in your seat, Zayne glances over at you again, his eyes trailing from your lips, lower and lower until heâs staring at the part of your body hidden by the table. His hand clenches tight into a fist and he pushes back from the table suddenly.
âI should go, I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow,â He doesnât look at you after that, smiling warmly at Granny and waving at Caleb, who waves back half-heartedly, more focused on his noodles.
Your lips part in surprise, and when Zayne disappears into the hallway to grab his coat, you stand too, âI should go too, Granny. I have some work to do before tomorrow,â
The lie stains your insides with guilt, but you canât let Zayne leave, not without apologising. Pushing the chair back in, you leave your near empty plate and walk briskly into the hall, finding Zayne just as heâs slipping his jacket, adjusting the collar before he pauses, staring at you.
Granny and Caleb are still within earshot, so you nod towards the door, indicating for him to go outside so you can talk. He does, his eyes wide and unguarded, darkening with that familiar heat, but he blinks, and itâs gone. He nods back, turning to open the door, keeping it wide for you to slip through, grabbing your jacket on the way.
Itâs chilly outside, but you let your coat hang from your fingers, staring up at Zayne. The confidence from a moment ago has vanished, and youâre left standing before you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breath leaves his parted lips in a soft cloud of white, and when he speaks, his voice is strained.
âPlease put on your coat,â
You shrug into it, gasping softly when Zayne reaches forward, as if he canât stop himself, grasping the buttons and silently doing them up until his hands brush your chin. The contact of his skin on yours has a heady, warm feeling gathering in your stomach, and his hands linger under your chin for a few moments. When he moves away, you can finally breathe.
âI just wanted to, ah, apologise,â You begin, cheeks warm. Itâs like youâre a teenager all over again, âI shouldnât have ignored your messages, I was justâŚâ Words fail you, and you lift your eyes to meet his soft gaze.
âYou donât need to apologise, I understand, ___. You donât have to explain,â His eyes shutter, the softness that was there now replaced by something haunted, âI went too far. I shouldnât have done that, I donât blame you,â
His words throw you for a loop, and youâre struck into silence, wondering if you read him wrong, âWhat? Why would you think that?â
As soon as the words leave your lips, you realise, shaking your head. If you hadnât gone radio silent after leaving his apartment, he wouldnât have assumed the worst. Zayne has always been like this; shouldering the blame, running on this misguided belief that he should know better, that he isnât just human like the rest of the planet.
Stepping towards him, your hand lands on his chest, âZayne, no. You didnâtâŚI wanted that. What we did,â you feel warm again, but you push on, desperate to wipe that tortured look from his face, âI want you. IâŚIâm sorry for making you think otherwise. This is all new to me,â
As the words spill from your lips, you watch as Zayneâs pupils dilate. You get a hint of the man he became the other night when he kissed you senseless, and you want him to do it again. You need his lips on yours like you need the air in your lungs; itâs a part of your chemical make-up now, this need for Zayne. Itâs knitted in your bones, tucked beneath your ribs, throbbing hot and wet between your legs.
âZayne,â You murmur, tugging his coat gently, desperate for him to touch you, âplease, kiss me again. Just like the other night,â
A harsh breath leaves his lungs, deflating his chest as it caves in under your hand. His palm lands in the dip of your waist and you instantly decide there are too many layers between you. Heâs breathing deeply, his breath ruffling your bangs as you gaze up at him, â___, please,â his hand grips your coat, fishing the material like he needs to steady himself, âI c- if I kiss you right now Iâm - Iâll never stop,â
âDonât stop,â You plead, running your hands over his chest, moving under his jacket, âI donât want you to stop,â
His jaw clenches, and he grips your hand, tugging you along towards his car. Your stomach dips with excitement, nerves, arousal, youâre not exactly sure which exactly, but you know that whatever is about to happen will wreck you, ruin you for anyone else, and you think you might already be half in love with Zayne as he tucks you into the passenger seat, his knuckles brushing your thigh through your stockings.
With a hard swallow, he backs away, closing your door and walking around the front of the car. He gets into the driverâs seat, silent save for the ragged way his chest rises and falls, and pulls out of the parking spot so fast you have to hold on.
Zayne is going to fucking combust if he doesnât get you naked within the next thirty seconds. Heâs sure he broke several traffic laws driving to his apartment, and as he pulls you to the elevator in the lobby of his building, he wonders whether he can bribe security to turn off the camera in there.
He forces himself to hold it together, not even able to speak to you for fear he will spew all the filth thatâs currently rolling around in his head. He needs to remember youâve never done this before, that he should be gentle with you, but the words you spoke to him outside your grandmaâs house taunt him.
I want you, I want you, I want you.
Heâd already been half hard when he left that dining table, thinking he was deluding himself to believe that you were squirming in your seat because of him. Because of the way he was unable to rip his eyes from your pretty, pink lips the moment you turned up. An image of them wrapped around the head of his dick has him bracing against the wall by the elevator for support, and you reach out, a hand on his forearm probably thinking heâs ill or something.
The elevator dings, and he wastes no time pulling you inside and waiting impatiently for the doors to close. He can hear you almost panting, and that little voice in his head tries to convince him you canât want him as bad as he wantâs you. That you donât feel this unbearable fire running down his spine simply because heâs standing beside you. He wants to push you against the wall, to take your mouth again, to make you taste like him, but he tries, using all of his mental fortitude, to remain in control.
It feels like it takes an hour to reach his floor, and he threads his shaking fingers through yours, needing to feel your skin on his in some way. You have this uncanny ability to ground him and knock him on his ass all in one breath, so by the time you both make it to his door, his cock is pressing eagerly against the fly of his jeans. He almost drops his keys twice trying to open the door, and as he drags you inside, you surprise him by gripping the back of his neck and tugging his lips to yours.
White hot need courses through his veins, the keys are dropped somewhere on the floor, the door is kicked shut and within seconds heâs got you up in the air, dropping your ass down on the console table by the door.
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â His hips are rocking between your thighs, the the table knocking into the wall, his heart thudding hard when he notices youâre panting just as hard as him. Your lips parted, hands grasping and tugging his coat into you both successfully get it off his shoulders, letting it land in a heap on the floor, forgotten in the haze of heat and lips and tongue.
He feels like heâs drunk; his coordination is impaired, vision blurry when he pulls back, looking down at you. The rough sound of his voice cuts through the mayhem, âYou want this? You really want this?â He asks because heâs, honestly, in disbelief that this is happening right now. He canât quite comprehend how the angel in front of him, gazing at him with dilated pupils, red lips and a blush coating your neck and chest, wants him.
âYes,â You whine, and he just about fucking comes, âPlease, Zayne, I need it. Iâm aching so bad,â
He might cry if you keep talking, so he kisses you instead, picking you up and walking you blindly in the direction of his bedroom. He murmurs against your lips the whole time, so gone for you that heâs not even sure what heâs really saying, âIâll be so good for you, ___. Iâm gonna make it so good -â
You moan against him, grinding your clothed pussy against his stomach. He finds his bedroom, knocking into the door frame in an effort to get you in there as quickly as possible. When he drops you on his bed, he just has to stare at you for a moment, catch his breath, maybe, but mostly he just wants to convince himself that this isnât some twisted fucking dream.
His eyes flare and he has to bring his hand to palm his erection when you start wriggling out of your clothes. He almost wishes you would stop, because heâs dreamt about peeling every layer off of your body himself, but he canât quite bring himself to step towards you. His brain jump-starts back into action once you get down to your underwear, and he plants a knee on the mattress, a hand on your wrist when you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear. Heâs in a trance, eyes locked on the little bow in the centre of your panties.
He wants to put his mouth on you so badly.
âZayne,â You whisper, itâs almost a moan, your soft thighs rubbing together as you squirm under his stare, like him just looking at you turns you on. The feeling is fucking mutual.
His thumb brushes the bow, his other hand dropping beside your waist. He can feel the heat of your skin, soaking into his bones, and he knows that he wonât come back from this. He thought that what you did on Friday night would be the end of him, but he was so wrong. This right here will obliterate him.
He sighs shakily, thumb running over your mound, his teeth sinking into his lower lip when he reaches the dampest part of your underwear. Youâre soaked, all for him, so wet that he can smell the sweet, huskiness of your arousal, and he abandons all prior concerns about his control, dipping his head to press his nose directly into your wetness.
âOh,â You murmur raggedly, wiggling your hips to try and get his nose to rub against you just right. He inhales you deeply, pondering in insanity that he may need to find a way to make a candle out of this scent, before he lifts his head a little, looking up at your face.
âYouâre so beautiful,â His voice is unrecognisable, and he swallows in an effort to moisten his vocal chords enough to tell you all that he has kept bottled up. If he scares you off now, itâs no matter, itâs far too late for him, âIâve fucked my hand so many times thinking of this, of you,â
You donât say anything, but your thighs try to close around where he is currently seated between them. He runs his palms up your thighs, gratified beyond belief to see goosebumps following his path.
âI need to eat you out,â He says simply, eyes boring into yours, waiting for you to give him even the barest hint of consent. He needs to taste you on his tongue, needs to lick deeply inside you until you come again, until he's haunted by the feeling of your cunt clenching against his mouth. Heâs out of his mind over the smell of you, the wetness that coats your pretty, white panties with the little bow that heâs sure will haunt him for the rest of his life. âTell me I can, ___, please,â
âIâve neverâŚâ You donât need to finish, because he already knows. He witnessed you get soaked from just his kiss, watched enraptured as you came wetly over his fingers. He knows youâve never had it and thereâs a primal roar of satisfaction in his chest at the knowledge that heâs the first man to taste you.
âI know, beautiful. Do you want it? You donât have to say yes,â He murmurs, even as he licks his lips. He wants to make this good for you, he meant that, and if heâs going to have the privilege of fucking you today, he needs you to be ready for him. He needs you soft and pliant and comfortable - the idea of causing you discomfort makes him want to keel over.
A swallow works down your delicate throat, and his eyes flare, another wicked idea flitting through his mind. If you let him, he will mark you up, he will lay his claim on you, no matter how much he might not deserve to.
âYes, okay,â You say, brows knitting together. He doesnât move, hands settling on your knees, pausing your movements as you part them for him.
âYouâre frowning,â
A flush paints your cheeks, and you groan in frustration, head hitting the mattress as you stare up at the ceiling. Youâre so fucking cute, he can hardly take it.
âI donât know what - âŚlike, what do I do?â Youâre watching him, eyes wide and blown out, almost black. He can tell that you meant it when you said you wanted it, and he smiles softly at you, parting your legs with a palm on each thigh.
âJust lay back,â He says softly, âIâll take care of you,â
The closer his face gets to your pussy, your face relaxes into a look of concentrated arousal. Youâre watching his every movement, gasping quietly when he licks a trail up the wet patch on your panties. He keeps his eyes on you as he kisses you slowly, filthily through the material, taking it as slow as he can, his cock throbbing, angry and eager to be inside your tightness. He ignores it to the best of his ability, keeping his hips lifted off the bed - he doesnât want to come too fast, but as soon as you moan, head thrown back, hands fisting his bedsheets, he slams his hips down into the softness of his bed. Desperate for friction, itâs near painful with how badly he needs to fuck, and he abandons all thought, pulling your panties to the side to suckle at your swollen clit.
âOh my god, Zayne,â Your voice is reedy, whimpers breaking every word, and he groans into your pussy, hips punching into the bed.
Your thighs start shaking soon after, and youâre already close. He can feel the way youâre clenching when he dips his tongue inside you, relishing in the arch of your back, the way your hands fly up to grip your breasts. Itâs such an erotic sight, Zayne can feel his cock twitching, heâs gonna come too soon, again, but he canât help it. You turn him into this needy, helpless mess, and heâs coming with you within a few more seconds of your tight pussy squeezing his tongue, his body rocking into the bed, so hard he can hear it squeak a couple times along the carpet.
Next time, he thinks wildly, unhinged in his desire, heâs gonna eat your pussy with you on all fours, heâs gonna make you ride his face while he fucks his hand. He doesnât care if you never touch his dick as long as he can spend the rest of his life with his face between your legs.
He pulls away from you after a few more licks, the stickiness of your arousal is a sweet syrup on his lips, and when he raises his body off the bed, he can only stare at you. Legs twitching, skin shined with sweat. He can feel his cock getting hard again, and he hasnât even got his jeans off yet.
Youâre opening your eyes then, a hazy gaze running from his flushed face to his panting chest, all the way down to the wet patch on the front of his jeans. You nibble at your lip at the sight, and - yeah, heâs hard again.
âIs itâŚ,â You glance down at his crotch again, âAre we done now?â
He licks his lips, tasting you again, âDo you want us to be done?â
Youâre shaking your head, sitting up on his bed. Thereâs a wet patch under your ass that he wants to lap at, and you wriggle away, further into the centre of the bed until youâre laying your head on his pillow. He lets himself think it now, pulls down the wall guarding him from the truth that heâs devastatingly in love with you. Seeing you laying on his bed in your underwear, fucked out, blushing and smiling as you wait for him to join you - it sends him into a tailspin.
A smarter man would realise heâs not good enough for you, that he doesnât deserve something so heavenly. But Zayne isnât very smart, it turns out, because he crawls onto the bed, caging you in with his arms and kissing you deeply. He lets you taste yourself, lets you taste the flavour of what heâs done to you, and you groan, tugging his black shirt out of his jeans.
He helps you as the two of you tackle his shirt, peeling it off of his shoulders, smiling against your lips when your hands immediately explore his skin, grabbing and digging your nails into his shoulder blades. He has to stand up to take off his jeans and his ruined underwear, his cock springing free, already hot and hard again. He watches as you assess him, your tongue wetting your lips has a bead of precum forming on the tip, even as his earlier orgasm already coats it.
You open your mouth as if to speak, but then you snap your lips shut. He canât have that.
âWhat is it, ___? Tell me,â
âI wantâŚâ Your eyes fall to his dick again, âCan I taste you?â
He almost falls to the floor, all feeling gone in his legs thanks to the blood rushing directly to his cock. He wonders if you could make him come simply by speaking, by asking him questions in that innocently curious voice of yours.
Itâs not a good idea, not with his track record with you, but he swallows hard, nodding and watching hungrily as you crawl across to him. He pauses you, desperate to see more, needing to see all of you, and unclips your bra, tossing it aside, forgotten. Your breasts sway before him, his hands reaching out with no hesitation, gripping them both as his cock bobs with another warning twitch. You watch it all with a heated look in your eye.
When you lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the head, Zayne immediately buckles, pushing you back on the bed so youâre on your back. He climbs over you, a barely caged animal.
âYou -â He groans when his cock brushes your underwear, âI cant - Maybe another time,â
âDid I do it wrong?â You frown.
He almost laughs, a pained wheezing sound bursting from his throat, âNo, youâre - everything's perfect. Youâre perfect- â Heâs babbling now, the desperation to be inside you taking over, as he rears up, tugging off your panties and dropping them at the bottom of the bed. A crazy parts of him wants to keep them as a memento of tonight.
He shakes above you, his arms trembling as his tip brushes your entrance, and he worries you might be nervous. Heâs not small by any means; thick as well as a decent length, his cock isnât gonna be easy for you to take for your first time, and so as a form of self-preservation and to help make sure youâre ready, he drops his head to take your soft nipple into his mouth, his fingers skimming your stomach to enter you in one thrust. You buck against him, whining, begging him to fuck you, and he growls, kissing up to your neck so he can suck a couple of marks into your skin.
âSo fucking good for me-Â God, ____, youâre everything -â
âZayne,â You tug on his hand, trying to pull his fingers free from inside you, âI need you. Please, please -â
He canât resist you begging, he canât help himself when you start mewling those words against his lips, your hands digging into his lower back. He positions himself at your wet heat, shuddering with each inch you accept him. You gasp when he thrusts a little too hard, but when he checks your face to make sure he didnât hurt you, youâre watching him with a searingly needy expression. You want him, you tell him so with every clench of your walls around his cock, and so he lets his dick slide inside you all the way, his thighs already shaking.
Heâs pathetic.
âFuck, fuck - hgn - oh god, itâs so good, ___. So fucking good for me,â He begins a steady pace, slower than he needs, but itâs enough to have you arching into him, your pretty tits lifted to his waiting mouth, and he moans loudly, without abandon, as your hands reach up to flatten on the headboard. Youâve never done this, and yet heâs the one who feels like heâs never been fucked before. Youâre rolling your hips, rocking up to take his cock, and he can feel his balls clenching with the need to come, âTell me I can come - tell me - let me come, please, beautiful, I need to fuck my cum into this pussy,â
âPlease,â You groan, âyou can come. Please, I need it so bad -â
âFuck,â Heâs going to come, heâs reaching the point of no return and heâs barely been inside you ten seconds. He slides his hand between your bodies, rubbing at the hard little nub above where heâs sliding into you. Youâre gripping him so tight he can barely speak. Heâs dreamed of making you beg for his cock, of making you tell him how bad you need it, but in the end heâs the one begging you.
âPlease, please, oh fuck, ___. Iâm coming -â He grunts, âSay my name, fuck - hgn, please. Please say my name - I fucking love you. Say it for me -â His words break off into a moan as you come all over his cock, your body clenching, eyes rolling back. Youâre chanting his name, calling it into the empty room, making his fucking life.
He follows you with several jagged, deep thrusts, fucking you up the bed until your head reaches the headboard. He has a few brain cells left to place his hand between you and the wooden surface, and then he allows himself a couple more rough rolls of his hips that have you shaking.
The silence afterwards is broken only by your breaths. Zayneâs head is on your chest, listening to the way your heart hammers beneath him. He canât move, his legs have lost all feeling and he enjoys the way you run your fingers through his hair. He nuzzles into your sweaty skin and glances up at you. Youâre smiling, glowing like you do in his dreams, and he almost wants to pinch himself.
He raises himself up onto his forearms, just about managing to make his legs work enough to hover over you, his lips pressed to yours. He whispers how much he loves you, how long heâs loved you, and you donât say it back yet, but you kiss him deeply. He relishes in this sweet moment, a whole new beginning, and for the first time when it comes to you, heâs not scared.
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