#(( eee ))

zayne believes in consequences. so, when you decide not to behave tonight, he simply delivers your punishment.

right now, you’re hovering over his lap, your thighs shaking so hard you can barely keep your balance. he’s already used his stupidly long fingers to make you cum three times, leaving your cunt feeling raw, dripping wet and so sensitive that the friction of your own movement feels like a shock.

and now your punishment, it seems, is to ride his cock until you fucking can’t.

“z-zayne...i don’t...i can’t,” you whimper, tears stinging your eyes. you try to lower yourself but the head of his cock stretches your aching walls so intensely that you immediately freeze, crying out from the sheer fullness of him.

zayne lies perfectly still beneath you. he looks up at your flushed face, his expression entirely calm with a slight upturn of his lips, even though his own cock is twitching inside you, tip leaking with pre cum.

without a word, he reaches over to the nightstand. the familiar clink of his stethoscope makes your heart race.

“sit still,” zayne says, voice low and steady.

he puts the earpieces in and then the freezing steel of the stethoscope presses right against your bare chest.

the icy metal against your flushed hot skin makes you gasp. your cunt instantly clamps down, squeezing his cock like a vice. a heavy groan escapes zayne as you tighten around him.

“your pulse is too fast,” zayne murmurs, his eyes locked onto your face, reading every flicker of your expression. “your heart is pounding. it’s all for me, yes?”

the audacity to even ask, you think.

“because of you,” you sob, trying to lift your lips to escape this agonizing pleasure. “p-please... zayne, let me stop..”

“no,” zayne replies softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. oh fuck you. you want to say it out so badly, but you precisely know what position that’d leave you in, so you don’t.

​his thick cock buries itself completely inside your soaking wet cunt, bottoming out inside you. a broken, breathless wail escapes your lips as you slump against his chestt, completely ruined by the friction.

​zayne keeps the stethoscope pressed firmly over your racing heart listening to the chaotic, rapid thumping spike to a dangerous peak as he fills you to the brim.

human vox x reader

synopsis: vincent whittman, a charming tv star by day and a ruthless killer by night. he’ll stop at nothing to eliminate any potential threats to his fame… and to have his soon-to-be fiancé, the sweet host of the baking show that airs right after his old weather segment.

notes: my vox obsession has been revived hehegegehe anyways general hcs for human vox coming soon js wait

general hcs

“I just don’t understand how this keeps happening. Why this keeps happening. It’s like some curse!”

Vincent tried very hard not to smile as he listened to you talk while putting the finishing touches on your makeup before the two of you went out on your date night. Another show host had been murdered, this time the host of the night talk show you would play every night.

“They still haven’t caught whoever’s doing this. What if it’s us next? What if it’s you?” you frowned, the mirror reflecting your worried-filled eyes as you applied lipstick, then capping it and placing it onto the table.

Vincent walked behind you, resting his hand on your shoulder as he turned you around. He could smell your perfume from here, sweet and distinctly vanilla. How fitting. “Sweetheart, we’ll be fine, I promise you. I can take care of myself, and I’ll always take care of you, okay?” he reassured you, one hand on your cheek and the other in his pocket, fiddling with the velvet jewelry box inside. You nodded, slightly unsure but trusting.

He did feel bad for scaring you. Killing the man wasn’t hard. Neither was killing the man before, or the one before him. Neither was seamlessly taking their place, their shows, their fans, their influence. He’d do the same to this man too. They had been in his way after all. He had his eyes set on Damien Carlson next. He hosted some nature and animal show that was getting a bit too popular for his liking, and was way too friendly towards you.

The only 3 things that Vincent wanted were fame, influence, and you. Not one of his coworkers meant a thing to him but you, and if this was the cost of building his ideal word, him on the top and you his doting first lady, he was willing to pay it.

He took your hand, and the both of you strolled out the front door and towards the driveway. He opened the front passenger door of his new, flashy car for you. He was such a gentleman, you thought.

He pulled out of the driveway and drove off, one hand on the steering wheel and the other one on your lap, tracing patterns. Both of you thrummed with nervousness, but for very different reasons. You were concerned because of all of the murders that had happened. How could Vincent be so indifferent, you thought. Wasn’t he worried too? Vincent’s only worry, however, was the ring in his pocket.

He had reserved a table at the fanciest restaurant in town, made a whole speech, planned out everything right.

You had seen him, even when he was just a mere weatherman, underestimated by everyone else. You were so beautiful, and as sweet as the baked goods you made on your cute little show and he needed this, needed you to say yes-

Your humming interrupted his spiraling thoughts. One of your favorite songs had come onto the radio. Focus, Vincent, focus. He’d marry you and you wouldn’t leave him. He knew it.

Soon the two of you pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and stepped out. Vincent had a hand protectively placed on your back as he walked you into the restaurant and as the two of you were seated.

“Vincent, this place is so nice!” you gushed. “Only the best for you, my sweet,” he responded as he gazed at you from across the table. His future wife. He cleared his throat, trying to appear less nervous. The waitress came and he asked for wine for the both of you.

You flipped through the menu, looking for what you’d order. “Vincy, what should I get? Maybe the pasta…” he nodded, his nerves on fire.

He went through all the motions, ordering for the both of you, talking about how his day went (leaving out the more.. gruesome details), asking you about yours, asking you how your food was, waiting for the perfect moment..

You noticed how tense and nervous he looked, totally out of character for him. “Baby? Are you okay? is there something going on? Should we go?” You frowned.

“There- er.. There is something, something I need to ask you.” he stammered out, internally face-palming. His usual confidence had left him, along with the speech he had planned out in his head. God, Vincent, get it together!

“What? What is it?” you asked, concerned. He stood up. “[Name]..” he knelt in front of you, pulling out the velvet box from his pocket and opening it. In it was a ring, the most gorgeous one you’d ever seen. “..Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Vincy..” you gasped, heart thudding. It took everything in you not to embrace him right there on the ground. “Yes, yes i’ll marry you!” Your eyes were wide and wet with tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

He began to get teary himself as he stood up and embraced you into his arms, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. You were his, all his, and no one, not even that asshole tree hugger Damien Carlson could take you away from him.