kkenmie

[kkenmie]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — HE SUPPORTS YOU DURING FINALS WEEK

a/n: damn i wish i had the lads boys when i was in nursing school

ZAYNE

You wake to the smell of something warm and real.

It sneaks in under your door — butter, eggs, maybe something toasted. You’re still curled beneath the covers, limbs heavy with the weight of too little sleep and too much mental exhaustion. The world outside your blankets feels harsh, fluorescent. You reach for your phone and see the time: 7:12 a.m. Three alarms already missed. Your first final is in less than two hours.

You sigh, press the heel of your palm against your temple. Every part of you aches — not in a painful way, but in that drained, overworked, hollow kind of way. You studied until nearly 3 a.m. last night, highlighter stains on your fingers, dry-eyed and wired.

Then there's a knock. Gentle.

“Hey,” comes Zayne’s voice from the other side of the door. Deep, quiet, grounded. “Didn’t mean to wake you, but breakfast’s ready if you’re up.”

You freeze for a second, almost disbelieving — because in all the stress and blur of this week, you’d forgotten what care even feels like.

When you open the door, he’s standing there barefoot, sleeves pushed up, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. His eyes scan you with that subtle, perceptive calm he always has — like he’s already done the math and knows exactly how close you are to unraveling.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice still thick with sleep.

“I know.” He tilts his head, eyes soft. “But I wanted to. Come on.”

You trail after him into the kitchen where two plates are set, steam curling in the morning light. Scrambled eggs with herbs, multigrain toast with avocado, roasted sweet potatoes — a weirdly perfect balance of comfort and energy. There’s even a mug of tea waiting by your seat, your favorite kind.

He sits across from you, watching carefully, like he wants to make sure you’ll actually eat. You do. The first bite nearly makes you cry — not because it’s extravagant, but because it’s intentional. It tastes like quiet love. Like someone saw how hard you were holding yourself together and stepped in to say, “You don’t have to do it all alone.”

Zayne doesn't rush you. He eats slowly, sipping his coffee, resting his chin in one hand as he watches the sunlight move across the kitchen tile. When your fork clinks softly against the plate, he finally speaks again.

“I packed you lunch,” he says, standing to grab a container from the counter. He hands it to you with a casual kind of care, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world — to think of you when you weren’t even awake yet. “Don’t forget it. You need fuel more than flashcards.”

There’s a note tucked under the lid. You blink at his handwriting:

“Proud of you. Even on the days you forget how much you’re carrying.”

Your chest goes tight. He just knows.

“I—” you start, but your voice cracks a little. “Thank you.”

Zayne steps forward, brushing a hand down your arm before slipping his fingers through yours. “You don’t need to thank me for loving you,” he says simply.

You look up at him, eyes burning. His thumb rubs across the back of your hand, warm and slow.

“Seriously, Zayne. You didn’t need to go out of your way—”

His brow furrows. “This isn’t ‘out of the way.’ This is the way. You’re stressed. You’re exhausted. You needed help, so I did something about it. That’s love. That’s what we do.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, holding onto his hand like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

Eventually, he pulls you gently into him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you rest your forehead against his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine in slow, rhythmic motions. Steady. Calming.

“You’re gonna get through today,” he murmurs. “And tomorrow. And every other awful, brain-melting exam. And I’ll be here for all of it."

You pull back just enough to look at him, to catch the faint grin he tries to hide. “I might hold you to that.”

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek — soft, grounding. “Please do.”

The world still feels heavy, but not quite unbearable. You grab your bag, your tea, your packed lunch. And when you leave the apartment, his note still tucked safely inside your backpack, you walk out with a little more air in your lungs — because Zayne reminded you that someone is on your side.

Someone sees you.

And he loves you through it all — quietly, patiently, fully.

XAVIER

It’s past midnight again.

Your desk is a battlefield — textbooks splayed open like fallen soldiers, your notes scrawled in a frenzy of highlighter and caffeine-fueled desperation. The room smells faintly of instant ramen and stress.

You’re not sure when Xavier showed up. He has a habit of appearing quietly, as if afraid being too loud might make everything worse. Now, he’s sitting cross-legged on your bed, awkwardly holding a blanket in his lap like he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

You barely glance at him over your laptop.

“You can go home, you know,” you mumble, typing furiously.

“I... could,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “but I don’t really want to.”

You glance at him again. He’s got that look — soft eyes, nervous mouth, like he’s waiting for permission to care out loud.

“Not doing much,” he adds, then frowns at himself. “I mean, I’m here if you need me. Not like need need, but ��� like — uh, in case you crash or something. Not that I’m saying you will. I just... y’know. I’ve got a lap.”

You stop typing.

“You’ve got a what?” you say, biting back a smile.

He goes crimson, pulling the blanket up to his chin like it’ll shield him from your teasing.

“I just meant — like — if you’re tired,” he mumbles. “You can sleep. On me. Not in a weird way.”

You chuckle, rubbing at your tired eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Thank you,” he says solemnly.

And then you’re too tired to pretend you’re not swaying in your chair. Your head is pounding, and the words on your screen are starting to blur together into alphabet soup. You don’t want to admit it, but your body’s already leaning toward him like he’s gravity.

“You serious about the lap thing?” you ask, voice small.

He blinks, like he didn’t think you’d take him up on it. Then he nods quickly, scooting back and patting his thigh. “Uh — yeah. Totally serious.”

You shuffle over, dropping your laptop on the nightstand. He opens his arms awkwardly, and you curl into his side, head finding the crook between his shoulder and chest like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

He goes still for a second, like he’s afraid to breathe. Then, slowly, his arms wrap around you — loose at first, then tighter, like he’s trying to be careful with something breakable. His fingers start moving, gently stroking your back, brushing through your hair.

Your brain is fog, but his warmth cuts through it like sunlight. Steady. Solid.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, breath warm against your hair. “Even if you don’t feel like it. I see how hard you’re trying.”

You press your face into his chest, and the stress starts to melt — just a little.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Always,” he says.

You’re already drifting when he adds, quieter this time, “I like when you rest on me.”

You smile, eyes closed.

“I know,” you whisper back.

RAFAYEL

It starts with a question that isn’t really a question.

“You okay?”

You’re standing in the kitchen, hands shaking slightly as you try to open a bag of snacks. It rips too fast, spills everywhere, and that’s the final straw. Your vision blurs with tears, your breath catches, and your shoulders go tight with the effort of holding yourself upright.

You don't answer him.

Rafayel crosses the room before the first tear even falls. You feel his presence before you hear him — warm, steady, like a storm is coming to wrap you in safety, not fury.

“Hey, hey.” His voice is low, grounding. “You don’t have to talk if you can’t. Just let me be here, okay?”

And you do. You let it go.

It hits fast — a broken sob, the kind that scrapes its way out of your chest like it’s been trapped for days. Your legs give out halfway, and he catches you without hesitation, strong arms winding around your waist as you crumble into him.

“I’m trying so hard,” you gasp against his hoodie. “But I can’t — I don’t know what day it is anymore — I keep studying and it’s like none of it sticks, and I can’t sleep and everything just hurts—”

“I know, I know.” His hand rubs gentle circles on your back. He holds you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You’ve been holding all of this in. Too much for too long.”

You grip the fabric of his sleeve, knuckles white. He lets you cry it out, lets you shudder against his chest without pulling away or trying to fix it too soon.

When your breathing finally evens, he gently guides you to the couch and sits down with you, pulling you onto his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair in slow, comforting motions.

“You know,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “breaking down doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re human. And you don’t have to go through this alone.”

You let out a weak laugh against his chest, still sniffling. “You’re saying that now, but I’m basically a snotty puddle on your hoodie.”

He looks down at you, eyes shining with the kind of softness that makes your heart ache.

“Then this hoodie’s exactly where it’s supposed to be,” he says simply.

You rest there, cocooned in his warmth, in the scent of his skin and the safety of his arms. He doesn’t try to distract you from your feelings or minimize them. He just lets them exist. Lets you exist — messy, tired, raw.

“You’re not a machine,” he whispers. “You’re allowed to break sometimes. I’ll be here to help you put the pieces back together.”

You pull in a shaky breath and nod against him.

“I don’t want to do this alone anymore,” you admit.

“You don’t have to,” he says, without hesitation. “I’ve got you. For however long you need.”

And in that moment, you believe him.

SYLUS

The clock ticks past 1:00 a.m. again.

Your shoulders ache. Your neck feels like it’s been fused into a single knot. Your foot’s fallen asleep from being tucked under you for too long, but you’re too buried in your notes to care.

Finals are chewing you up and spitting you out, and at this point, your body is just along for the ride.

You don’t even hear Sylus come in.

You feel him first — his fingers trailing through your hair, a teasing tug near the ends. You glance up and he’s already smirking, that slow, lazy grin that should be illegal this late at night.

“Well,” he drawls, “if it isn’t my favorite academic weapon.”

You sigh and let your head drop forward onto your textbook. “I’m dying, Sylus.”

“No,” he says. “You’re just crispy around the edges.”

His hands rest lightly on your shoulders. You expect him to tease you more, maybe nudge you about posture, but instead—

He presses down, slowly, deliberately.

You let out a sound you didn’t mean to make.

“...Oh my god.”

He chuckles behind you, voice smug and smooth. “Your tension level is catastrophic. Honestly, I’m offended you’ve been sitting here suffering without calling in your personal massage god.”

You laugh, barely — a short breath, tired but real. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeats, incredulous. “Kitten, you could wake me up at 3 a.m. with a full spreadsheet of muscle complaints and I’d show up with lavender oil and hot towels.”

You shiver as his fingers work deeper into the muscle near your shoulder blades, thumbs pressing with just the right pressure.

“Jesus,” you breathe.

“Nope. Just Sylus.” He leans closer, lips grazing the top of your ear. “Though I’ll accept divine praise if you’re handing it out.”

You swat at him weakly, but he catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, kissing the inside gently before returning both hands to your shoulders. His touch is grounding — firm and slow, like he knows exactly where you’re hurting without asking.

“You’re carrying too much,” he murmurs, voice dropping softer. “Not just in your body, but in your head. I can feel it.”

Your eyes flutter closed. You don’t even try to deny it.

“Turn around,” he says.

You do, obedient and boneless, swiveling in your chair until your back meets the edge of the desk. He kneels, warm hands cradling your bare foot, thumb pressing into the arch like he’s done it a hundred times. You bite your lip.

“You know,” he muses, looking up at you from under his lashes, “if this whole college thing doesn’t work out, you could always hire me as your full-time stress reliever.”

You arch an eyebrow, flushed and dazed. “Is that your job title?”

“Officially? No. But informally?” He kisses your ankle, light and teasing. “Yeah. It’s got a nice ring to it.”

By the time he finishes — feet, shoulders, and the tension melting from your neck — your brain is soft, your body heavy in the best way. He pulls you up and into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist like you’re the most important thing in the room.

And maybe you are.

“You good?” he whispers.

You nod into his chest.

“Don’t let finals take all of you,” he says. “Save some for after. For us.”

You smile, half-asleep already. “Only if you promise to keep the massages coming.”

He kisses your forehead.

“Forever.”

CALEB

Your textbook is glaring at you like it knows you’re about to give up.

You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes, and not even the highlighter in your hand knows what it’s doing anymore. You might be physically upright, but mentally? You're flatlining.

“Okay, emergency nerd rescue incoming,” Caleb announces as he flops onto your bed, legs swinging over the edge, a granola bar between his teeth and a stack of flashcards in one hand.

You blink. “You weren’t invited.”

He gives you a mock gasp, clutching at his chest. “How dare you. I’ve come here, out of the goodness of my gorgeous, underutilized brain, to tutor you. And this is the thanks I get?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re studying to be a pilot.”

“And you’re trying to survive Psych 201. So congrats — your knight in questionable academic armor has arrived.”

You snort, but he grins and scoots in beside you on the floor, back against the wall. He bumps your shoulder lightly. “Come on. Let’s get that beautiful brain of yours working. I’ll go easy on you… maybe.”

“You literally distract me,” you mutter, but hand him the textbook anyway.

“I distract you because I’m incredibly handsome,” he replies, flipping to the chapter you’d been silently begging the universe to erase. “It’s not my fault you’re weak to charm.”

“Delusion is a full-time job for you, huh?”

He wiggles his brows. “And I’ve got great references.”

But then he actually does start helping. In between the teasing and bad jokes — “Think of the amygdala like your brain’s little drama queen” — he breaks things down in a way that makes the information stick. He quizzes you without making you panic, celebrates your correct answers like you just solved world peace, and calls wrong ones “learning plot twists.”

You’re still exhausted, still overwhelmed — but he makes it feel lighter somehow. Like you’re not drowning. Like maybe, just maybe, you’re gonna be okay.

At one point, you rub your temples and let your head drop onto his shoulder. “Why do you actually make this fun?”

“Because I’m a treasure,” he says smugly, before softening. “Also, because I hate seeing you stress so much. You’re way too cool to be crying over chapter summaries.”

You laugh softly, and he bumps your knee with his.

“Let’s finish one more section,” he says, “and then we take a snack break. Or a cuddle break. Or both. You pick.”

You give him a tired but grateful look. “Thanks for helping me.”

He winks. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re not done."

You let out a groan.

[kkenmie]

caleb finds your prenatal gummies

how does caleb react when he finds the bottle of prenatal vitamins you’ve been taking—but not because you're pregnant?

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: caleb x female reader (afab) ━ ✧.˖ WORD COUNT: 1.9k ━ .ᐟ✧ WARNINGS: none really , pure fluff, but vague mentions of unprotected sex, talks of of pregnancy and having children, use of 'pip-squeak' ━ ✧.˖ LINKS: ao3 | twt

got inspired to write this as i was taking my supplements yesterday :') non-smut for a change ahhhh. enjoy!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

”Always so messy.”

Caleb speaks to himself, voice a low amused mutter as he deftly clears off the kitchen counter. You were staying the weekend in Skyhaven, evident by the random items strewn about his massive home. 

Yet, Caleb can’t help but smile as he eyes your belongings carelessly discarded all over his kitchen and living room. Your favorite fuzzy blanket draped over the couch’s armrest, grazing the floor. Your shoes haphazardly taken off by the front door, right next to, but not on, the dedicated shoe rack. Coasters left behind on the kitchen bar, still sticky with dripped apple soda.

You were a menace. But he wouldn’t trade your specific brand of chaos for anything in the entire universe. 

You were the one that made this lonely empty house a home, after all.

His grin widens as he remembers just how clean your own apartment in Linkon always is. Naturally, he comes to the conclusion that you only act like this when you know he’s there to pick up after you. To take care of you.

The most important job he’s ever had. 

The sound of the shower continues to run upstairs while Caleb tidies up the living spaces. He quickly returns ingredients back to their designated cabinets, abandoned after you so thoughtfully cooked dinner for him last night. As he shuts the cabinet, he sighs, eyes catching sight of the various vitamin bottles you’d left on the counter, nearly hidden by the rice cooker.

He gathers them up in his large palms, finding a spot for them in his own cabinet of medicine and supplements. 

One by one, he meticulously puts them onto the shelf.

Omega-3, vitamin C, collagen, creatine, prenatal gummies, vitamin B-12—

Wait.

Prenatal gummies?  

Caleb’s violet eyes widen, his breath stuck in his throat, as he reads those red words over and over.

Prenatal gummies for pregnant or nursing women. With folic acid and DHA. Whatever that meant.

His heartbeat quickens as his mind races a mile a minute, his thoughts landing abruptly on the only plausible explanation.

Were you really…pregnant? 

Was it possible? Yes. 

On more than one occasion, definitely way more times than he could count on two hands, he hadn’t been…careful. You’d begged for it, but he should have known better. It was his job to protect you.

But it’d always been on non-fertile days, or that’s what your little period-tracking calendar had always said. 

No, Caleb thinks in a sheer panic. Please no. I can’t be a dad. Not right now. Maybe not ever. 

He’d barely been able to protect you at the lab. He couldn’t possibly let down someone else—a child, a baby. Your baby. That you’d made together. 

He would not survive failing your child. Through heaven and hell, that is something he’d never be able to recover from. 

Caleb runs a shaky hand through his dark brown hair, his normally controlled and collected Colonel’s mask completely and utterly shattered at his feet.

Right now, he was just Caleb, the man who dedicated his entire life, who’d give up anything and everything, to protect you—and would do so until his last breath. 

And this Caleb had never been more terrified in his entire life. Through an entire life of experimentation, through traveling the Deepspace Tunnel, through an explosion that nearly claimed his life, he’d never been more scared than he was right now.

Fatherhood.

The world felt like it was closing in on him—every time he’d failed you replaying in the ever expanding black hole that was his mind. 

The lab. Losing you during the Chronorift Disaster. Every bully, every knee scraped. Ever. The Toring chip. The list goes on and on. 

His chest tightened until he could hardly breathe, his knuckles white with the force at which he gripped the bottle of prenatals. 

He wasn’t equipped for this. 

And yet…he couldn’t deny how many times he’d thought about this life, with you. A life of mundane and blissful domesticity. No Fleet politics, no Wanderers, no imminent danger at every fucking corner. 

A life you’d created together. When he’d grown up thinking there was no such thing. That there would never be a world that the two of you could truly call yours.

“Caleb?”

Your voice pulls him out of his all-consuming thoughts. His head snaps up to see you coming down the stairs, your hair wet, body swimming in one of his big shirts. Your face, beautiful as ever, is laced with concern as you see how uncharacteristically pale he is.

When his eyes meet yours, you can’t help but smile, always so happy to see his face and sparkling nebulous eyes—even when he looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Your smile doesn’t fade as you approach him, palms instinctively coming to rest on his chest when you reach him. 

And just like that, he wasn’t so scared anymore. 

The thought of a little you running around. With that smile?

A mini version of the most precious thing in his life. One that’d undoubtedly drive him insane with that same attitude he loved so dearly. 

That had your laugh as he pointed out different types of planes soaring through the sky. Or your mischievous curiosity as he taught him how to fly his very first jet.

Yeah. He could get used to the idea of that. 

“Did something happen? You look like you’re about to be sick,” you raise an eyebrow at him. It’s then he finally releases the plastic bottle of supplements, setting it down on the counter with a soft ‘clack’. 

Your eyes immediately drift to the source of the intrusive sound, widening when they see what he was so fixated on.

”Caleb it’s—”

You’re cut off by your own squeal, Caleb’s big palms gently but firmly gripping either side of your waist, pulling you so close you could hear his pounding heart. 

“Am I—I mean are we actually…Are you pregnant?”

You can’t help but giggle at his frantic words, stumbling over himself with none of the usual poise and polish of the Farspace Fleet’s revered colonel. 

Caleb’s hand moves from your waist to your tummy, his thumb stroking softly against the fabric of his ratty shirt. His palm cups against your naval without thinking, already instinctively providing a protective barrier between the most important things to him and the rest of the world.

”I…I don’t know if I’d be any good at this,” he whispers, nebulous eyes bright with emotion, “I don’t know if I’d be a good dad.”

Your eyes widen at his vulnerable admission, not expecting it in the least. You’d never expressly discussed starting a family that extended beyond the two of you, but it’d always felt like something Caleb wanted. A stark contrast to his words, you always knew Caleb would be an amazing dad, if that was what the two of you decided you wanted.

Before you can interrupt, Caleb continues, “But—God help me…I will never let anything happen to you. Either of you.”

Your heart flutters at the sincerity of his solemn vow, and you find yourself unable to form the words you should say.

”Caleb…you….” you trail off with a gulp, unsure how to verbalize the torrent of emotions you have for this unbelievably incredible man.

“You’d be the best father.” Your quiet whisper rings whole-heartedly, voice thick with adoration and a bubbling anticipation for your future with him.

Caleb watches you with rapt attention, his heartbeat still hammering like the thrum of a hummingbird’s wings amidst the silence between you two. You’re about to open your mouth again—tell him you’re not pregnant, when he picks you up and backs away from the kitchen counter so he can spin you around. His strong hands are secure under your armpits, the smile on his face so effortlessly Caleb.

Behind the thin mist of fear in his eyes, this was the brightest you’d ever seen Caleb.

You can’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, clutching his muscled shoulders.

“Caleb, put me down!” you demand through your unabashed laugh of delight.

”No,” Caleb grins, “You’re never walking anywhere ever again—never lifting a single finger. Not while you’re carrying our baby.” He suddenly swings you so that his arm is hooked under your knees, carrying you like a prince would a princess.

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt, but you know you have to tell him the truth. You couldn’t bear to disappoint him, but what’s worse was giving him false hope.

Reaching up to tenderly cup his face with your hands, your voice shakes, “Caleb…”

Caleb smiles warmly at you, his cheeks leaning into your touch, “Yeah, princess?”

You bite your lip at how adorably he resembles a happy puppy, his earlier fear seeming to have evaporated into pure excitement. 

You find tears inexplicably forming in your eyes, grieving a pregnancy that was never even there to begin with. Blinking them back, you rip off the bandaid.

“I’m not pregnant.”

Seeing the befuddled expression in his features, his amethyst eyes squinting with unanswered questions, you continue, “The prenatals aren’t for that. A friend recommended them for my skin. Since work’s been a little stressful and I’ve been breaking out.”

You clutch his jacket, staring at his chest—waiting for him to speak. To express disappointment. Maybe even scold you for letting him believe, even if only for a minute. 

“You’re stressed? How come you didn’t tell me? What’s going on at work?”

Caleb only stares at you with genuine concern, still not setting you down, holding you tighter. Your heart hammers at the worry laced in his voice, drowning in emotions that that was what he was most concerned about. 

Your troubles.

“N-Nothing serious, it’s just workplace politics—anyways! The point is I’m not pregnant, okay? I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” 

You can’t stop the apology from tumbling out, even when you know you have nothing to be sorry for. But just seeing how excited he’d been is enough to make you feel like a monster for being the one to squash it. 

Caleb sets you down so that you’re sitting on the counter, his thick body positioned between your thighs. Your heart can’t help but sink at the simple action that felt like it signified so much more. That he was disappointed with you.

But suddenly Caleb flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Hey!” 

“Dummy,” he mutters, thumb soothing the area he’d flicked, “Why are you sorry?” 

“I—you were so excited,” you say sheepishly, “I probably should’ve mentioned I started taking them before you found them yourself.” 

Caleb chuckles, almost in disbelief, hooking your hair behind your ear. Before he can respond, you whisper, “You’re really not mad?”

“How could I be mad?”

His hand abandons the edge of the counter, once again coming to rest over your stomach. His thumb strokes you reassuringly.

“Just knowing that you think I…” he trails off, his own voice murky with emotions. 

“That I’d be worthy of being the father of your children.” 

You place your hand over his, squeezing gently. It felt almost comical—the two of you in the kitchen, hands pressed over your stomach like there was anything there. 

“Besides, I’m not in a rush,” he smiles gently, taking your chin into his fingers and brushing his lips against yours. 

“We have a whole lifetime to make our own little pip-squeak.” 

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[kkenmie]

So Fucking Domestic

(mdni 18+) How many times a week is it normal for a couple to do it? Well... You and Caleb are definitely above average.

1.2k. small hc about domestic life and boyfriend!caleb with a little bit of spicy hihi

Since you and Caleb started seeing each other officially, it was only natural that you spent more time in Skyhaven and he in Linkon. You both had such dense and strenuous routines that at any free moment you tried to be together and make the most of it. On a particular day during the first month of your relationship, you arrived at the Colonel's apartment and found some step stools placed at strategic spots in the apartment. They were large and discreet, one near the kitchen counter, another by the bathroom sink, another by the bookcase in the study and many others. The answer when you asked Caleb about it was simple: when he became a colonel and got the right to an apartment, the Fleet asked for his height to make the furniture as proportional and functional as possible for him. Now that you were spending more time there, he made sure to have those steps made at the right height for you, so that you could be as comfortable as possible. In fact, you always wondered why the sink seemed so high when you brushed your teeth, and how uncomfortable it was to cut things on the counter when you tried to cook something. Caleb was always so efficient and attentive, and you loved that about him.

A week after steps stools were added to the apartment, you were used to them. One day, while you were at the kitchen sink, peeling some apples for a quick snack, Caleb came in from a night mission.

"Hey! Want an apple?" You smiled when he hugged you from behind, sinking his face into the nape of your neck easily because of the extra height the step stool gave you.

"What a miracle to find you in the kitchen," he kissed your neck and held your hips, gluing you to him. You brought a piece of apple to his mouth over your shoulder and forced him to eat it, to shut him up. "Hmpf" He tried to speak and you turned around, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"How was it today?" You gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

"Boring. I just wanted to come home to you." He rubbed his cheek against yours, sighing. "Buuuut, I had time to think of something"

"Hm?" You hummed with your eyes closed, feeling the warmth of his face against yours.

"I was wondering if... You'd let me put my cock inside you without me having to ask or with any ceremony." He said in a careful voice. "Of course, if you don't want to at the moment, just tell me and I'll completely stop. I totally understand if you find it weird and don't want to do this and I pinky promise we never have to talk about it again and I'll never bring it up ev-“

"I want it!” you said and threw your head to one side. His eyes widened in surprise. "Wherever you want. No matter when you want. I trust you." You kissed one of his eyes. "And I love the idea of you fucking me without ceremony and at any time."

"God, you're going to drive me absolutely crazy. Thank you." He squeezed you in a tight hug.

Once the two of you had agreed on this, you initially thought you'd be having sex the way you always did, hard, deep, kinky, full of fluids, scratches and bites, or doing intense quickies several times a day. But no, it was simple and intimate, simply delicious. Caleb just wanted to be with you and inside you all the time.

Little by little, you realized how the stool he had ordered served more than one purpose. Sometimes you'd be doing your makeup for work, standing in front of the bathroom sink, and Caleb would simply approach you, asking about your plans for the day. As the ordinary words and dialog went on between the two of you, he would gently pull up your shirt, pull down your panties and put his cock inside you. It was addictive. The fucking step step not only gave you the perfect height for the furniture in the house, but also to leave your ass at the right height for Caleb to find himself in you without having to hold you down, sit or lie down. It was usually like this: his cock nestling into you with slow, intimate strokes, while you both carried on chatting about anything, just spending time together.

By then, you made a habit of walking around the house in your (his) large shirt and no panties, knowing that Caleb liked to be with you, inside you, whenever he could. Of course, you still had brutal sex like two animals frequently, but it seemed that Caleb's obsession and need for you - and you for him - was able to bring about the most painfully intimate, simple and tender sex of your lives. It was just so good to trust so deeply in someone and to want someone so badly that no words or timing were needed. At one moment it was a "Can I stay here with you, baby?" and the next you were reading your book, bent over the counter, while Caleb slid his cock up and down between your folds, stroking himself against your clit, praising you and your pretty pussy. He did it not only because he wanted it, but because he could.

Sometimes he wouldn't even come, or even move. If you were watching a movie, he would surely be inside you, both of you cuddled up, relaxing after an exhausting day, cockwarming.

In fact, you liked it so much that when he didn't take the initiative, you went after him. There were times when he was reading reports, sitting on the living room sofa or in the office armchair, and you would silently approach him, fiddling with your cell phone, sit on his thighs, and soon his cock was hard and hot under his pants. Within moments, you were slowly riding his throbbing cock, while he used his thumb to caress your clit, slowly, just like the rise and fall of your hips. If you got tired, you didn't have to get up. You just kept yourself there, hugging Caleb, with his hard cock throbbing inside you, filling you up completely.

One day, talking to Tara and Simone at the pub in Linkon, the topic came up: "How many times a week is it normal for a couple to have sex?", and the girls debated curiously.

"I don't know, three or two times a week? It depends on their schedule." Simone said, sipping her drink.

"Some couples do it every day! Can you imagine? Having sex every day?" Tara said, her eyes widening. " What about you and your boyfriend? How often do you do it?" She asked, curious.

And that made you wonder. There was the mind-blowing sex, the longing sex, the dirty sex, the rough sex, the slow sex, the sex when you were reading, the sex when he was reading, the sex when you were on your cell phones, the sex when talking about anything, the sex on the kitchen counter, the sex on the bathroom sink, the bath time sex, the movie time sex, the bed time sex, the sleep time sex, the wake up time sex, the boredom time sex, the play time sex… And all you could do was blink, trying to calculate how many times a week Caleb and you had sex and it simply wasn't possible to count.

You laughed, sipped your drink and sighed.

"I don't know, I don't count." And it wasn't a lie.

[kkenmie]

∯ COCKOLOGY 101: ZAYNE & CALEB !

🫧✱ ݁ ˖ | a simple analysis about papi 1 & papi 2’s schlongs ♡ (i’m giving u full hex colours & measurements.)

pairing. — MDNI (17+) fem!reader x 𝐜 & 𝐳 (separate) warnings. dick measurements, overstimulation, mentions of shaving, mentions of porn, big cock caleb & big cock zayne, omg idk how to put the warnings for this one wc. 1.3k a,n. this is just for fun & obv on the unrealistic side don’t take this seriously. cuz i was laughing the whole time making this anywho enjoy !!!! <3

Ꮺ ZAYNE. firm believer that dr.zayne is on the longer side than the thicker one, don’t get me wrong i am no way calling this man’s dick skinny. it’s very thick but it is for sure hitting ur cervix no matter how unrealistic this sounds. his tip is a solid #e3b1b8 more on the pinkish side cuz have u seen this man’s nipples. they’re so PINK & he’s so paleish pink overall, rest of his cock is #edb8a8 still on the very pale side, transition colour from tip - rest of his inches is #e6a1a1 :3 his mouth-watering 8.2 inches (6 inches soft cuz i said so) (3.2 inches delicious girth wise) has the slightest, almost unnoticeable tilt to the right side that makes ur eyes cross

while we’re on the topic, zayne def shaves. we’ve seen his razor bumps, some days when his skin is a bit more sensitive he just does a simple trim in the shower and calls it a day, one of my hcs is that this man smells good. like you’ll never catch this man smelling off or even bad in your entire life, he takes his hygiene so seriously so i know he smells good everywhere. good quality cotton boxers, ball deodorant when he has longer shifts in the hospital, glycolic acid in every crack and crevice, really musky & light on the nose cologne paired with a nicely scented lotion, over all incredible hygiene.

daily cups of pineapple juice. firm believer that zayne has a lil morning routine ritual where he probably eats a spoonful of sea moss, takes his needed supplements & green juice so why not throw in a cup of fresh & organic pineapple juice to his routine? this man smells and tastes divine. and he knows it, he’s very proud of it and takes his sacred routine very seriously.

side notes: the way that he cums is sometimes sudden to him, zayne is very sensitive so when he’s wrapped around your walls that are continuously milking him he instantly gets lost in euphoria and doesn’t even realise how quick his climax is building up, sometimes he does have the focus to warn you but most times his head is in the clouds and he’s practically just babbling and rutting his hips unconsciously.

cums in warm, filling ropes of milky, almost watery cum. like i said, he takes great care of himself that paired with his obsession with your sweet cunt devouring his cock he cums so for so long, his orgasms are long lasting and intense. by the time the aftershocks of his high wash down his body he’s all over you again, kissing nibbling and licking every part of you that he can :(

not a big fan of overstimulation, but since you are he can’t deny you the fun at all. thing is, like i mentioned before he’s very sensitive, it’s ridiculously easy to make him overstimulated. a simple “you can give me one more, can’t you?” with a wink when you’re riding him is really all it takes. he turns into literal putty in your hands. thigh muscles flexing and sweat shimmering on his abs when he fills you up over and over again just because his pretty girl asked him to <3

his cock when overstimulated turns so red, his natural shade being a slight off pink colour that gets darker when he’s hard and fully crimson when you’re overstimulating him. a few slight, faint veins begin appearing around his base that you love to run your tongue all over just to feel him shiver under your touch, he loves it just as much as you love it.

in conclusion: pretty shaved & regularly trimmed balls, paleish pink 8.2 inches, lemon juice mixed with olive oil shots king and a sucker for pleasing his pretty gf <3

𖧷 CALEB. this man right here should be awarded for not having back pain bcs of the way he’s packing. i am a caleb horse cock truther ✋ 7.2 inches length wise but 4.5 inches girth wise this man is MASSIVE humongous gigantic BIG. he’s really big. (BIG CALEB!) thing is .. i’m also a believer in somewhat inexperienced caleb. he might’ve had a lil thing here and there but it never got serious or anything so he really doesn’t know how fucking huge he is.

(probably found out when he and gideon saw each other naked for the first time and he noticed the way gideon’s eyes were practically about to fall out of their sockets) now don’t get him wrong he’s watched porn and whenever he’s clicked on the “massive cock destroys—“ u get the gist, the dick in question always looked.. average in his eyes? it looked closer in length to his, he might’ve been longer even but that was considered to be massive? #BlessedButDoesntKnowIt #HeHasAWeaponOfMassDestructionAndIsntAware

he never really stressed himself about it, so quick side notes: tip colour #d9a593 more on the tanned side in comparison to zayne but it’s still so pretty rest of his cock is #ba8270 with a slight transition shade of #d99b82, regularly keeps himself trimmed but isn’t too serious or anxious about it, def believe that it’s very, very like extremely veiny. you’ve seen the veins around this man’s abdomen. has so many faint veins decorating his underside, and when i tell u that this man’s cock literally cannot stand upwards fully when he’s erect because it’s so fucking heavy i mean it.

i see caleb to be blessed with incredible genetics, good & decent hygiene but he’s not the type to really eat a spoonful of sea moss or coconut cult in the morning, he’s more like the kind of guy that makes himself green tea while blasting bruno mars at six am in his kitchen tbh. that being said he definitely tries his hardest to take care of himself by going to the gym and drinking water often so he tastes nice wouldn’t say that he’s not on the salty side bcs he for sure is, but it’s still very delicious.

going back to the good genetics & gym rat side; he has his cheat days (that sometimes might extend longer than intended, let a man be lazy for once he deserves it) but even when he stuffs his (godly) body with junk food or stuff that don’t really align with what he usually nourishes his body, it’s still literally perfect. his genetics come into play and it’s like he just had a green goddess salad with a side of cranberry juice, you’re definitely envious of his metabolism.

side notes: the way he cums depends on how he’s been fucking you, if it’s a quickie then it’s going to be an eye rolling orgasm for him. cums frequently one second he’s filling you up with long, thick like heavy ropes of glistening cum the next he’s still hard and fucking his cum deeper into you, on the contrary if he’s taking his time with pounding you against the bed, then he’s going to have a literal toe curling and back arching orgasm. he loves to cum deep inside of your fluttering walls, warm breaths fanning your ear as he keeps filling you up from behind, he cums for so so long if you pressed on your lower stomach you’d feel the way he’s stuffing you full.

is he ready for overstimulation? real question is, is overstimulation ready for him? a literal beast. this man fears nothing and is a freak. overstimulation should actually fear him. his gym obsession always comes in handy when it comes for inhumane stamina, he doesn’t mind fucking both of you dumb till he’s shooting blanks. whimpering, babbling, drooling till he can’t even speak coherent sentences and just mouths at whatever part of you he can reach. doesn’t care if his dick practically looks purple and feels like it’s about to fall off— if he’s overstimulating you both, he’s going to do it till you’re both passed out on his messy mattress.

in conclusion: caleb’s packing in the front and the back (papa packing never lacking), average monster cock, decent hygiene, salty addictive cum 🙂‍↕️

♥︎ : litr wrote this while listening to kitty kat by meg & thatpower by will.i.am so idek + this unserious drabble is dedicated to my caleb big cock believer & the reason why this acc opened in the first place: nia bunny :3 ♡

[kkenmie]

business trip

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 6.7k (good lord)

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, tiny reference/spoiler to lore, explicit sexual content, pure pure filth, dubcon if you squint really really really hard, size kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (f!receiving), lots of making out, finger fucking, tongue fucking, cum as lube, finger sucking, choking, slight inappropriate use of evol, slight use of y/n, dom!zayne

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: as promised she is here! this is based of the five-star card ‘business trip.’ a lot of the initial dialogue is from that card's story, with some small changes. this contains very tiny spoilers/references to some of the lore (honestly not really, if you’re reading this you’re probably addicted to the game enough to know the reference).

this is my very first finished fan fic/smut! i’m used to writing research papers and lab reports, so i am still learning to write fiction/dialogue! please be kind :) also fun fact i was writing this in first person but then decided to switch to second person so if there’s any stray grammar errors i apologize lol search and replace is so wonky

if you can’t tell i am absolutely feral for zayne and need to thirst for him with fellow zayne simps. my dumbass cannot write porn without a shit ton of plot/feelings. hope you enjoy!!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

People who didn’t know Zayne would assume that he was a cold person, and you couldn't really blame them. As a world renowned cardiac surgeon, and the chief cardiac surgeon of a massive metropolitan hospital, he had become an expert at control, especially that of his emotions. He let the world know only what he wanted them to know, and he was extremely selective about who he let truly know him. 

Having been Zayne’s girlfriend for a few months now, you had the privilege of being on the receiving end of his rare affections. And while he was undeniably blunt and straightforward, you knew he was anything but cold. Under the winter blizzard that was his exterior, Zayne was warmer than the summer sun. 

But despite being intimately familiar with Zayne’s affections, you couldn’t help but be disappointed when he picked you up from the train station returning home from your ten day mission. After months of dating, you were no stranger to the cardiac surgeon’s distaste of pda and need for professionalism, but after ten days apart you couldn’t help but be disheartened by his nonchalance when picking you up.

So when he put on a random movie and sat on your couch, you couldn’t help but pout and prop your knees up to your chest on the seat cushion next to him. 

"Do you have a question for me, Zayne?” You rested your head on your left hand that was leaning up on the sofa back. His face snapped to yours from the tv screen, eyes lighting up with amusement. They bore straight into your own, making you want to squirm in your seat. Even without touching you, Zayne was always able to make your blood heat and your skin singe. 

"What do you mean?” His tone held the faintest trace of humor and you had a feeling he knew exactly what you meant but wanted to hear you say the words. 

Feeling emboldened by his teasing obliviousness, you deftly swung one of your legs over his lap, and effectively straddled him on the couch. His hands instinctively gravitated to gently rest on the plush of your hips. You squeaked in surprise at the feel of his ice cold hands against your exposed waist, your shirt having ridden up. You could feel the distinct outline of something you’d terribly missed on your time away, and it made you harshly bite your lip to suppress the sounds your body tried to force out of your mouth.

The corner of his lips raised at you, the faint ghost of a smirk gracing his face. He murmurs softly, his voice sending shivers straight down your spine while his fingers danced down with it, "How was your trip? Was it okay?” 

Still sulking, you whined, "Not at first. After all, I could always see you whenever I wanted to.” Your hands softly ran down the smooth fabric of his suit vest, drifting over his expensive tie, "Then slowly I got used to it.” You shifted in his lap, intentionally grinding gently, hoping to Provoke any sort of reaction from him. You needed him to be as affected by you as you were by him. 

"Got used to being alone again? Right?” Besides his growing erection, he was as calm and collected as always. In your frustration at his nonchalance, you missed the little signs of Zayne losing the tight grip he always had on his control. His grip tightening ever so slightly on your hips, the brief but sharp intake of his breath, his jaw slackening gently as he bit the inside of his cheek. 

Exasperated, you climbed off his lap and settled back into your seat beside him. With Zayne, it could often be difficult to tell when he was teasing or genuinely oblivious. And your own frustrations were clouding your perception to any of the little indicators that he was anything but in complete control of the situation.

"Sure, but it’s not…” you trailed off feeling embarrassed, eyes falling to your hands on your lap. Maybe you were being too needy? 

Gripping your chin in his thumb and index finger, he lifted your head to meet his deep green eyes again, "Indeed, it’ll become dull regardless.” The unmistakable sound of need in his voice as his piercing eyes locked yours in place was beginning to utterly derail your thoughts. 

You cover his eyes with both your hands, unable to stand his intense stare, "You’ve been staring at me.” 

"But I can’t see you like this,” the amusement in his voice is undeniable. 

"Shhh. That’s the point.”

Gently, he pries your hands off his face without much resistance, "Let me see you.” His eyes once again found yours, holding bits of amusement, adoration, and hunger. You averted your eyes and childishly stuck your tongue out at him. 

"You wanted me to say something?” The teasing in his voice transparent as glass.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you whine, "Why did you act so normally at the train station? I was disappointed.” Craving his skin on yours, you reach your right hand out to gently brush your fingers over his lips. He wraps his much larger hand over yours and moves it to cup his cheek. Turning his head ever so slightly, his lips ghost the inside of your palm with a delicate kiss. 

When he finally speaks, his voice has dropped to an octave that sends waves of pure primal pleasure coursing straight down to your core, "What did you want me to do in front of all those people?” 

Biting back the shiver threatening to unleash through your body, you continue with your petulant ramblings, "We haven’t seen each other for a few days. Didn’t you miss or worry about me?”

"The weather was nice there and you responded to all my text messages. So you must have been fine,” he gently plays with your hand, still enclosed in his. "Now tell me, is there something you want to tell me?” 

You could tell Zayne knew exactly what you wanted to say and what you wanted him to say. But ever the tease, he wanted you to say it aloud. 

"Tell me what you want,” he’d always demand with his lengthy slender fingers stuffed deep inside you, thumb pressing harshly on your clit. Forcing you to say the words. 

"I…missed you,” you confess through hooded eyelids, only daring to peer up at him through your eyelashes. Your own daydreams were causing a dampening puddle to form at the apex of your legs which you squeezed shut tightly, embarrassed at how eager you were for him.

In a flash, his hand released yours to snatch the remote off the coffee table and shut the movie off, turning to face you again. His sudden movement snapped you out of your filthy reminiscing, "Why did you turn off the tv?”

Forcefully, he cups the back of your neck, entangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer until his face is a mere inch from yours, eyes glancing fleetingly to your lips. You could feel his minty breath against your lips and it made you unleash the uncontrollable shiver you’d been suppressing, "Are we really here for a movie?” 

Breathlessly and defiantly, you pushed him further, "Isn’t that what you wanted?” Your hands gripped his bicep, reveling in the taut bundle of muscles that you’d imagined far too many times on your trip, taking you so forcefully every night prior. 

"I’ve changed my mind now. Is that okay?” And with that Zayne closes the short distance between the two of you, capturing your lips with his. 

You couldn’t help but moan at the feel of his icy lips on yours after far too long, far too many lonely nights. He greedily swallowed it, hands moving to tangle deeper in your hair. Zayne’s lips were always a pleasant blend of winter ice but also a home-like warmth, the feeling absolutely addicting. A feeling reserved just for you.

Zayne pushed you down softly, until your back met the cushioned sofa. He parted your thighs and settled between them, hovering above you.

"Such a brat. Did you want me to take you like this in front of everyone at the station?” He murmured, hands leaving you to loosen his tie. The unbelievably erotic sight had your knees weakening, the dampness between your legs intensifying. They instinctively clenched at the feeling, which Zayne noticed immediately, evident by his satisfied smirk.

"Tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly and firmly as his hands found their way under your shirt, teasing the skin of your naval and dancing up just below the swell of your breasts. His cold touch pulled a needy whimper from you and your pelvis arched up seeking any Kind of friction against his body. Zayne’s actions fried your brain, rendering it nearly impossible for you to process what he was asking of you.

Suddenly his hands abandoned your chest and he raised his hips so your bodies no longer touched, to your dismay. The loss in friction had you whimpering pathetically for him. Instead, his hand made its way to your mouth and his thumb pressed into the parting of your lips, "Answer me.”

"Wh-what? What did you ask?” You panted dumbly, tongue intentionally grazing his thumb and savoring the salty taste of his frosty skin. You could see his erection growing against the restraint of his slacks at the feel of your tongue eagerly tasting him. 

Using his free hand, he ghosted it against your jeans covered cunt, just barely catching on your clit. Squeezing your eyes shut, you gasped and hoped he couldn’t feel how embarrassingly wet you already were for him, despite him only just having touched you. His touch was light and fleeting, just enough to leave you starving for more. 

His thumb, still in your mouth, pressed down firmly on your tongue. This time, he asked more forcefully, "Tell me how much you missed me baby.” His domineering attitude short circuited your brain and once again all you could do was moan and thrust into his hand. Zayne, dissatisfied with your repeated lack of response, pinched your clit, roughly enough to snap you back into reality and leave you panting for more. The truth came tumbling out so fast you had no time to be ashamed at how desperate he’d made you.

"S’much, I missed you so much Zaayne,” you slurred, unable to articulate your words through the lust, "Thought ‘bout you ev’ry night.” You reached up to run your fingers through the dampening black bangs that rested against his eyes. "Missed you s’much Zayne. Need you s’bad.” 

His gorgeous green eyes darkened and he shut them, "Fuck.” 

Satisfied with your begging, he bent down to capture your lips with his once more, pressing his erection against your heat, grinding torturously slowly. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, demanding access to what was his. You happily granted him entrance, enjoying the feel of his tongue against yours. Enjoying the taste of him so intimately close to you. 

He pulled away, groaning, "Do you want to know why I acted so normally when I saw you at the train station?” You whined at him pulling away, having thoroughly gotten over your previous brattiness and just wanting nothing more than him to utterly devour you. You reached your hand up to cup his cheek again, trying to guide his lips back to yours and shut him up. You continued to grind into his erection, rutting needily into his crotch, completely and utterly desperate for him. You were at the point of no return, and not even your own embarrassingly unabashed horniness could shame you into stopping.

Instead, he affectionately leans into your hand and shuts his eyes, like a cat purring into a palm. The pure adoration mixed with the fiery sexual tension enveloping the air surrounding you was absolutely suffocating. And you were positively addicted. 

He put his hand over yours, holding it lovingly against his cheek, "Even in front of all those people, I knew once I saw you again–” he brought your joined palms to his lips and grazed a fleeting kiss against your skin, then released your hand.

Continuing, "If I touched you again after all that time –” he bent down over you to gently graze his teeth against your racing pulse, suckling and nibbling carefully while his other hand cupped your sex again to which you eagerly ground into. His long slender fingers teased your slit, paying special attention to your aching clit.

He continued his ministrations on your pussy, his breathy rasps right next to your ear,  "I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.” 

His words snapped the coil that had been building in your core from the moment your eyes landed at him at the train station. You whined as your thighs trembled to a halt against his fingers. The culmination of it all, missing him terribly for ten days, the feel of his perfect body pressed against yours, the incessant teasing, but especially his confession, led to your quick unraveling. Covering your eyes in sheer embarrassment, you came against his hand, still completely dressed. 

Zayne peered down at his soaked hand, voice low, vaguely amused, and unbelievably turned on, "Did you just cum, love?” 

Embarrassed, hands still covering your reddening face, you wailed, "Y-yes..I'm sorry!” 

"Don’t hide from me Y/N,” his fingers, covered in your slick, pried your hands away from your eyes. "Did my little brat miss me that much? She’s so eager for me she came just from humping my hand huh?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, despite the sheer embarrassment, determined to please the man before you, "Missed you more than anything. Needed you s’bad. Haven’t felt you inside me in s’long.” He swore lowly under his breath, barely audible, his control slipping. 

"I’m sorry for not behaving the way you expected at the train station, my love,” he rose away from you, undoing his loosened tie. "Let me show you how much I missed you.” His words unleashed butterflies in your stomach as you watched him shed his clothing, layer by layer. Zayne was truly something sculpted out of legends. As his long fingers expertly unbuttoned his white collared shirt you pressed your palm against his hard stomach and murmured, "Wait let’s go to my bed.”

But he didn’t stop, instead arching his eyebrow at me, "Did you think I was joking?” 

Your eyes snapped away from the contours of his abs leading to the dusting of his pubic hair, not at all able to follow what he was talking about. "S-sorry?”

He chuckled, finally shedding his expensive white shirt somewhere on your apartment floor. He crawled back to hover over you and deftly removed your bottoms and panties, then spreading your thighs apart and using his own leg to keep them propped open. 

"We’ve already started, and I won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

You shivered at his words and hooked your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his. The kiss was bruisingly passionate and messy, his tongue exploring all the places he longed for the past week and a half. With one hand he gripped your hair, and with the other he skillfully unhooked your bra and caressed your nipple with his fingertips. You whimpered into his mouth as he played with your body in ways only he knew would have you completely ruined. Wanting to please him too, you reached your hand down to release his cock from its confines and grasp it in your hand. It stood completely rock hard against his naval, his prominent vein bulging and throbbing in your hand. Because of Zayne’s evol, he always ran very cold. His skin was often icy to the touch, but his manhood always burned your palms, blazing so deliciously hot. 

You held it tight in your hand, jerking up and down gently but forcefully. Teasing the underside of the head with your thumb, you briefly panicked at how he would fit inside you after so many days not being stretched to accommodate him. His manhood was like him in every way: intimidating, imposing, and glorious. 

Zayne pulled away from your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck and biting into the soft skin there. The most erotic groans spilled out of his lips against you, but his hand gripped your fist halting your movements. Through gritted teeth, he seethed, "Stop.” 

Scared you’d hurt him, you instantly snatched your hand away. He noticed the guilt on your face and half-smiled reassuringly, "I was about to finish all over your pretty little stomach from just your hands. This is how much I've missed you.” The more he spoke, the more your next orgasm was building, your body aching for his with every filthy word he uttered. 

His hands gripped the small of your back and lifted you slightly, giving him access to remove your top and unlatched bra. His eyes hungrily roamed all over your body until they settled on your eyes, "You are the most beautiful thing I will ever set eyes on, in all my lives.” 

Your head tilted, intrigued by his choice of words, "All your lives? Have you discovered the secret of reincarnation, dr. Zayne?.” Zayne chuckled, but did not respond, instead kneeling completely naked and god-like before you and you couldn’t help but beg, "P-please Zayne.” 

He smirked, confident as ever, hands reaching down to ghost right above your pussy, hovering so close but not touching, "Please what, baby? Use your words, you can do that for me, right?'” 

You bit your lip, trying to grind your crotch into his hand, whining when he shifted to dodge your advances. 

"Tell me what you want.” 

Unable to take the teasing any further, "P-please jus’ touch me, anything, please.” 

"My girl is so damn needy.” Finally he sets his fingers against your soaking slit, slipping his lengthy middle finger in. Throwing your head back, you moaned arching your back off the couch, rutting into his digit. 

"So desperate for me,” he practically purred, pumping his single finger in and out, "Did you have to use your own fingers when you were away?” 

"Y-yess thought of you every time,” you moaned, "P-please, more.” You shrieked in pure ecstasy as you felt his lips find your sensitive nipple while simultaneously inserting his index finger. 

Zayne has always been hyper fixated on your breasts. The way the skin pebbled under his touch, the way the plush fat felt underneath the massage of his palms, but mostly the way you writhed under the lathering of his tongue. While his fingers forked in and out of you, his tongue swirled dizzying circles around the peak of your breasts. He nibbles, gentle but still enough to make you yelp. You can feel his smile against your skin as he suckles soothingly. He alternates between the two, never wanting to leave the other one neglected. Your pleasure is the most important thing to him, a job he takes seriously. Only when you’re a squirming whimpering mess does he feel satisfied. 

Pleased with his work, he detached from your chest, trailing down further. He leaves a path of kisses down your torso until he finds himself facing his main course. As he admires your throbbing cunt, his fingers still scissoring in and out of it, his tongue swipes against his lips. The hunger in his eyes is evident, as if pondering all the different ways he could devour you. Finally, he graces your pussy with his attentive lips, wrapping around your clit and just barely grazing with his teeth. 

Zayne ate like a man positively starved, his tongue working magic on your body. He suckled diligently on the bud, making the filthiest slurping noises. Your toes curled, resting on his broad hard shoulders, and your thighs clenched around his jaw. With his free hand, he sought your nipple out, pinching gently against the pebbled skin, ravishing absolutely every inch of your body. He shifted downwards until his tongue was inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit delivering such relentless mind-numbing pleasure. His tongue fucked you earnestly and through the blood pounding in your ears you could hear him moaning at the taste of your juices, dripping down his chin. 

Zayne inserts his fingers again, tongue going back to lap diligently at your clit, "You can take another one cant you?” He grunted against your most sensitive region, his breath a warm caress. 

You sat up weakly on your elbows, absolutely winded from the blinding pleasure but determined to keep up with him, "I can! I can!” 

"That’s my girl.” He inserts another finger, stuffing you completely full. Moaning unabashedly, you latched onto his hair and fucked yourself onto his fingers. "You taste so fucking good. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, spread out for just me, while you were gone.” His filthy words went straight to your core and you felt your next orgasm building at an alarming rate. 

"Zayne Zayne Zayne,” you chanted, completely fucked out, "Please d-don’ stop.” His fingers quickened inside you, the lewd wet sounds of his fingers pounding against your skin filling the room. While keeping himself buried inside you, he shifted on top of you until his face was right in front of yours, eyes gazing into you deeply. Zayne crashed his lips onto yours once more, forcing his tongue in, claiming every part of you. Not that you objected at all. 

His kiss was so unbelievably filled with need, showing you just how much he had missed you. His entire mouth tasted of you, lips so wet from a mix of your spend and his saliva. The passion of it all was enough to send you reeling towards your second orgasm. Nails digging into his bicep, you tried to warn him that you were just about to come undone all over his hand. With his three fingers stuffed in you, he used his thumb to rub harsh circles on your clit, sending you reeling over the cliff of pleasure

"That’s it, juust like that baby. Cum for me,” he cooed. You were a babbling slurring mess as you trembled on his fingers, releasing all over his hand. He continued to gently pump in and out of you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm. You fought to stay conscious as the overwhelming pleasure of two climaxes bled into the sting of overstimulation. 

Weakly swatting at his hand still inside your puffy cunt, "S’too much Zayne. S’too sensitive.” He finally removed his hand, the sudden emptiness drawing a gasp from your lips. Zayne brought his absolutely drenched fingers to his mouth, devouring your slick off of them.

"Absolutely perfect,” he groaned, removing them and gripping the underside of your thighs. In one swift motion he pulled hard and had you pushed up against his own body, your rear end elevated to brush right up against his hard body, his unbelievably erect cock.

Tapping his member against your sopping cunt he gave you a lopsided smile, "You still with me love?” 

You sat up, unable to take your eyes off of where Zayne’s body would connect with yours. Following your eyes, he takes his manhood in his hand and teases it up and down, "I expect an answer when I speak to you Y/N.”

Your mind was mush and your body was still staggering from the sheer amount of pleasure Zayne had just given you, but you knew you needed more. You needed him and you needed him inside you. 

Peering into his eyes from underneath your eyelashes, you mewled, "Z-Zaayne. I need you. I can’t wait any more” 

He swore under his breath, his voice a deep sensual rasp, "So damn eager for me. Don’t worry, you will have me, many many times tonight.” You shivered at his words, a hard and fast promise, as he lined up his cock with your entrance. 

"Two of ten,” he muttered under his breath, teasing his head against your clit, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably as he smeared your combined arousals all over your cunt, better than any medical grade lube. Zayne always had so much pre cum from edging himself, always putting your pleasure above anything else, before himself.

"Ten what?”

A heart stopping cocky smirk graced his beautiful pale face, "You’ve been gone for ten days. I fully intend to make up for every single day tonight.” The full weight of what he was implying clicked and your eyes widened.

"Th-there’s no way!” 

"Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to show you how much I missed you?” He gave your pussy one last stern tap with his length, evoking a squeal from your lips as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut in anticipation. 

"I told you once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop.” And without waiting for you to protest further, Zayne softly breached into your warm and waiting hole. You moaned in surprise at the massive stretch. The only reason he could enter you at all was because he had thoroughly prepped you with the two previous orgasms. The pain ebbed pleasure was undeniable as Zayne stretched your body to the max. When you looked to see where his body was joined with yours, you gaped. He’d only managed to get his tip in. 

Zayne fell forward slightly, gripping the underside of your thighs with a bruising intensity. His jaw was locked and he panted out, "Please love, relax. Relax for me. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

"I’m tryin’, jus’ so big,” you whined, hands finding purchase in his soft hair. You took a deep breath, trying to loosen up, staring into his smoldering eyes while he pushed further into your guts.

"That’s it, such a good little slut for me. Always so obedient,” he cooed, slowly but surely seating himself fully in your cunt. After ten days without him inside, it felt like losing your virginity all over again. But every single word he muttered went straight to the wet mess in between your joined bodies, helping to overcome the resistance.

The initial pace he set was torturously slow and passionate, his eyes only leaving yours when he threw his head back to groan deeply, as if unable to contain himself while he was inside you. Any inklings of pain quickly dissolved into pure pleasure as his thick length burrowed deep inside. You watched Zayne bask in the unstoppable stream of sounds that escaped your mouth, his body always taking yours in the most delicious ways. Any embarrassment you previously felt went out the window as you made the most lewd and filthy cries for him. 

Hooking your legs around his waist, you felt him brush against your cervix with his tip and realized even fully buried inside you, Zayne’s length was not completely burrowed in your pussy. The sheer size of him made you clench around his thrusts, throbbing in ecstasy as he ravished your body. 

"So damn tight,” he groaned, the pace and force of his thrusts increasing, "Gonna have to stretch you back out tonight, all night.” His thumb rubbed figure eights around your clit while you held onto your breasts for support as they bounced wildly from the growing intensity of his movements. The sight seemed to please him as he grunted and reached one of his hands to release your thigh and take a breast into his own hand, teasing the nipple between his finger tips. 

Somehow even in your utterly fucked out state you were able able to moan out, "S’deep s’deep sooo good. Please don’t stop. Missed this s’much.”

The hand on your breast ventured upwards to gently close around your throat, with just enough pressure to leave you gasping in bliss, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. His fingers pressed into your pulse, "Taking me so well. This pussy was made for me, huh?”

A stray tear of pure pleasure slipped from your eyes. Zayne releases your neck and swipes his thumb across your cheek, wiping away the fallen tear, "Answer me Y/N. Who does this pussy belong to?”

"B-belongs t’you Zayne,” you slurred, "Allll yours, always.”

Pleased, Zayne folds your thighs into your chest, until your knees are nearly touching your breasts. Planting one foot on the seat of the couch, he begins thrusting with an entirely new vigor. The new angle allows him even deeper, cock brushing against all your deepest, favorite places. Drool dribbled from the side of your mouth as you cried out repeatedly in pleasure. His body was so satisfyingly heavy, imposing, and large against yours, a stark reminder of the sheer size difference between you. 

He shoved his hand between our two bodies to rest on your stomach, pressing down, "Can you feel how deep you I am love? Can you feel me here?”

Frankly, you could feel him in your damn throat, "Y-yes Zayne, feel it s’deep. Makin’ me feel so goood. Please don’t stop.”

"Don’t worry, don’t plan on ever stopping.” His promises drove you ever so close to your climax. You moaned, back arching off the couch so sharply that you were almost levitating. Zayne took this opportunity to wrap his two large hands around your waist, hoisting you off the couch leaving you squealing as he picked you up like a rag doll, seating you back on his lap, a mixture of your arousals moistening your thighs. His cock sat tall against your stomach and you longed to be stuffed again.

"Look at the mess you made,” he murmured, eyes trailing to the space you sat completely exposed on him. With one palm gripping your ass, he slid his other between you to collect your collective slick on his fingers and shove it gently back into you. You yelped but took this opportunity to lift yourself onto your knees and take his cock into your hands. Zayne watched you with amused eyes allowing you to take control, if only for a brief moment, before regaining it. A creature of habit, Zayne loved control. In the hospital, the operating room, and especially in the bedroom. Or well the living room. 

You impaled yourself on his length once more, a gasping and groaning mess every inch of the way. He kneaded the plush of your ass adoringly, trying to soothe the pain from the stretch. In this position, Zayne reached the deepest inside you, literally rearranging your guts. Using your fleeting strength, you began bouncing up and down on him, his strong hands on your rear guiding you along, but letting you do the work. The corner of his lips were slightly quirked up as he watched you struggle to keep up any semblance of rhythm or pace.

"Does my needy girl need my assistance?” 

Determined to wipe the smug smirk off his unfairly handsome face, you shook your head vehemently and only rode him more vigorously. But as his cock continued to spear in and out of you, the overwhelming pleasure in your gut and the burning in your thighs took hold and your knees gave out. You slumped your head breathlessly against his hard chest, as he chuckled and planted a kiss against the top of your head. 

"Don’t worry sweetheart, I've got you. Let me take care of you.” With the help of his strong hands, he bounced you on his lap. His large muscular thighs flexed underneath you as your eyes rolled back. Hours upon hours of surgeries honed Zayne’s endurance and he bobbed you up and down like you weighed nothing at all. Sitting on his lap like this, your abdomen was pushed right against his, your clit rubbing along his pelvis and your nipples dragged along his chest with each sinful thrust. 

"Eyes on me,” he commanded, his grip on your ass tightening enough to leave marks. In your fucked out state you force your eyes to focus on his, as his cock continues to deliver you unimaginable pleasure. With his eyes locked on yours, Zayne lets out a deep breathy moan and murmurs, "I missed you so much Y/N.”

Your heart swells, your stomach clenches and you knew you loved this man. The butterflies in your stomach must have manifested in your pussy clenching around Zayne’s shaft, hard. He hisses, but before he can speak you take his face in both your hands and press your mouth to his, swallowing his moans.

The feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth pushes you towards your third orgasm. Your lips separate, a string of drool connecting them still, as Zayne hammers into you. You drape your arms over his shoulders, clinging on while he pounds into your abused hole. Your clit continues to brush against his slick soaked pubic hair and has you seeing actual stars. 

He bent down to capture your nipple with his mouth, absolutely devouring it. Squealing, you arched into his mouth as your fingers clawed deep welts into his back while he ravished your breasts. He continued to bounce you on his lap, pace never faltering.

"M’close,” you warn over the erotic wet ‘pap pap pap’ sounds between you, "G’nna cum soon.”

"Yeah? Cum on me baby. Need to feel you all over my cock,” his thrusts continue to hit your sweet spot and you feel as if you’re about to explode. At his command, you barrelled through your orgasm, digging your nails into his toned back. The pleasure was immeasurable as it coursed through every centimeter of your body. Your head felt dizzy, toes curled, fingers clenched, nipples hardened further against him, and every nerve in your body sang for him. You wailed as he helped you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it as long as possible, still chasing his own pleasure. 

"That’s it, love. Make a mess all over me,” the over stimulation was starting to kick in again as Zayne’s thighs and hands continued to rock you on his cock. 

"P-perfect, you’re so fucking perfect. Do you know how many times I fucked my fist, thinking of this, while you were gone?” Zayne was babbling now, and his cock was twitching persistently inside you. You could tell he was going to cum soon too. You held on for dear life as you willed yourself to withstand the overstimulation, wanting Zayne to find release with you. It slowly ebbed into an addicting painful pleasure, making you uncontrollably squeeze your aching cunt around his throbbing cock. 

"F-fuck squeezing the soul out of me. I’m gonna cum,” he groaned into the crook of your neck.

"Cum for me Zayne I wan’ it so so bad you n-need it please. Need your cum so bad,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut feeling another orgasm approaching so so unbelievably fast.

Just like he had before, he gripped your chin with one of his hands, "Look at me. I need to see you when I cum.” You forced your eyes open and watched as he stared at you with such intense lust, need, and love.

"Where do you want me?” He grunted, his thrusts stumbling and you could tell he was finally at the precipice of his own orgasm.

"I-Inside please cum inside me Zaayne, I need you s’bad. Need t’feel it deep,” you sobbed, your cunt tightening around him as you were about cum again. 

"You want me to fill you up baby? Stuff you full of my cum? What if I get you pregnant?” You clenched in excitement at the vague warning of his words. Without fail, Zayne noticed. 

"My girl likes that idea huh? Want me to breed this pretty little cunt? Put my baby in you?” He was practically rabid now, the force of his bouncing rattling your brain, his words turning your body into putty in his hands. Tears of overwhelming pleasure filled your eyes at his filthy promises and you could only peer at him through your wet eyelashes and nod eagerly, with your tongue almost lolling out of your mouth.

Zayne cursed under his breath at the look you were giving him. He knew he could never deny you, not that he’d wanted to, especially not when you looked at him like that. He would spend his entire life, every one of his lives, loving you, taking care of you, protecting you, pleasuring you, if you’d allow him. 

As he watched the drool dribble down your chin, he thrust one last time, the brute force of it dragging the orgasm out of you while he spurted his release deep inside your womb. You were screaming, crying as the intensity of your last three orgasms made your body even more reactive to his cum painting your walls white. The culmination of it all had you squirting all over your joined laps. 

Zayne watched in awe as you made an utter mess on his lap, his grip on your hips tightened and an icy frost formed on the top of your soft skin, under his palms. The alarming cold only served to increase the ecstasy of your climax. He didn’t seem to notice as the beautiful snowflake etched frost danced up your waist. Yet you felt anything but cold as his hands held you against him. 

The aftershocks of your final orgasm caused your pussy to continue to throb around him, milking anything he had left. Zayne was a moaning and panting mess when he finally noticed that he was losing control of his evol, the glimmering crystals weaving up higher up your sides. 

"Shit, I'm sorry love,” he swore, pulling his hands away. You whimpered, not caring in the slightest, just wanting his touch back as you slumped against his hard chest, panting for air, body completely and thoroughly ruined. He took deep breaths to regain control of his evol, watching the iridescent flakes on your waist melt away as quickly as they’d come. As they faded completely, you shivered against him, cunt still quivering around him, draining every last drop of his seed into you. Zayne wrapped his strong arms around you, cradling you gently, making sure his evol was properly contained before relaxing into your delicate body. 

You must have drifted off briefly because the next thing you knew Zayne was placing you gently on your plush bed sheets, the sweat and slick cleaned off your skin. Despite the brutal pounding your pussy had taken, you could hardly feel any soreness. No doubt thanks to Zayne’s tendencies to care for you like a little injured duckling, even outside of the hospital. 

"You’re the best primary care provider, dr. Zayne,” you murmured happily, nuzzling into his strong forearm, as he set you down on the bed. He chuckled, sounding not the least bit tired, sitting down on the empty space beside you. 

"At home, you take care of me. At the hospital, you take care of me. How’d I get so luck to have a doctor like you?,” you rambled, utterly content. He continued to laugh, leaning over so he could stroke slow soothing circles on your naked stomach. 

"I will always take care of you,” his gleaming green eyes beam at you, while the rest of his face remains calm, collected. And then he slowly smirks, "Especially in the bedroom.” 

You blush furiously, your thighs clenching together again, his eyes never leaving yours. The circles he rubs into your skin inch slowly up, up, up until they’re caressing your breasts, again.

"Zaayne, there’s no way,” you whine, your thighs trembling at the sight of heat returning to his eyes. But despite your protests your core quivers in anticipation and you can't bring yourself to swat his hands away. He slowly crawls on your bed, into, in his opinion, his rightful place between your legs. 

"We’re only 40% of the way done love, and as a surgeon I must always complete what I start,” he murmurs mischievously, hands gripping your knees, prying apart gently, slowly. 

"Y-you can’t be serious!”

"Please? I missed you, Y/N.” 

Feeling how your body reacted so eagerly to those three words, the words you wanted to hear him say so desperately at the train station, you knew you were in for a very long night.

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[kkenmie]

just thinking about how a certain childhood duo interacted with mc over the years ₊˚⊹♡

notes: slightly suggestive, mdni. be prepared for more duo content in the future because the thought of them w/ mc is delicious. not proofread, but enjoy~

caleb and zayne! who always held your hands as the three of you walked through the park, swinging you in air just to here those bubbly giggles ripple out of your mouth. caleb always makes sure the intertwine your fingers when you land, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand, while zayne cups your hand in his, palm to palm, warming him up. nobody lets go until you’re at zayne’s doorstep, snot running down your nose at the fact he can’t come live with you, just like caleb.

caleb and zayne! who text daily to discuss any and everything you after zayne moves away. caleb tells him that you’ve started making more friends and are going out more. the teary faced emoji he tacks on at the end has a soft laugh escape zayne as he peaks at the notification over his pile of textbooks. caleb sends a barrage of texts, zayne reacting to every single one in acknowledgement. on the days caleb sneaks a photo of you, zayne saves it into the album he’s dedicated solely to you.

caleb! who lets you burrow your head into his neck, that all too familiar snot and tears soaking into his shirt as you’re wrecked with how much you miss zayne one night a few years later. he doesn’t tell zayne about this. he doesn’t want to worry him, he convinces himself.

zayne! who has to resort to your social media when caleb goes silent. he made a fake profile so you don’t know it’s him viewing your daily stories. maybe he should reach out, but it’s been too long at this point. you’d probably forgotten him, just as caleb had.

caleb! who hates the rotting feeling in his chest when you text him about your day while he’s off at flight school. your date had gone well with a boy caleb had stalked online the night before and you were excited for the next date. he texts zayne, the one person who could calm him down when it came to you… the message never delivers.

zayne! who acts like nothing happened when he sees you next, stunned in the hallway of hospital. as if years of questions, longing, and grief didn’t linger within the unfamiliar space between you two. he was content with being your doctor, not your friend. 

zayne! who locks his office door when you show up unannounced in your hospital gown, eyes unfocused and red, hands trembling, skin covered in burns and shrapnel wounds. he grabs your hand as you hover like a ghost near the doorway, unsure of your place, and drags you to the couch. there’s no words, just loud sobs and the sound of air lodging into your throat when you forget how to breathe. 

zayne! who treats you to sweets and stories of your fond childhood memories, placing himself in the void left behind by caleb’s death. he tries to convince himself he fits within that space in your heart. he hopes you can fill the same-sized hole in his. 

caleb! who watches you move on from behind a wall of monitors, sweat dripping down his back after a rather grueling experiment. his fingertips trace your smile on the screen. this is enough for him.

caleb! who wasn’t ready to see you yet, if ever, but there you are chained to the chair in front of him. a twisted warmth boils in his stomach at the look of you before him, anger and shock a beautiful mix of expression on such an innocent face. had you ever looked more irresistible to him before?

caleb! who unlocks your phone while you’re knocked out from cold medicine in his bed, indulging himself in going through your photos and texts before stealing the number of a certain doctor. he kisses your temple before leaving, locking the door on his way out. 

zayne! who wakes up to a random text, peppered with obscure typos and a photo of a feminine sleeping figure, the same figure that haunts his sickly dreams every night. maybe he should be worried. maybe he should call the authorities when you don’t contact him back well past your normal wake-up time. maybe he would’ve, but he’d never forgotten a phone number in his life, especially not one of a certain dead man.

caleb and zayne! who meet up without you knowing for coffee whenever they can. who text each other every night like kids again, but now the roles are reversed. caleb floods his inbox with questions about you and is annoyed by the lack of detail zayne provides. the least he could do is send a photo or two of you whenever the other gets to see you.

caleb and zayne! who leave you standing in your doorway stunned as they relax at your kitchen table, speaking casually about their respective day before smiling at you: caleb’s toothy grin and zayne’s softening gaze. none of you sleep that night, you had too many questions to ask and so many tears to shed.

caleb and zayne! who warm you back into that familiar pattern of them. you never think twice when they grab your hands or fret over your health or impose themselves on your daily schedule. they place themselves in every aspect of your life, swearing never to leave you again, not while they’re still breathing.

caleb and zayne! who become addicted with the way you feel between their bodies when you fall asleep, their cold hands ghosting your exposed skin, relishing in the way goosebumps light up across your body. not yet, they had both agreed. you needed to fully heal first before they went further and they were patient. 

that is if they don’t count the nights where they help each other get off at the sight of your drooling self moaning their names in your sleep.

oh boi, the brain do be rotting₊˚⊹

[kkenmie]

site that you can type in the definition of a word and get the word

site for when you can only remember part of a word/its definition 

site that gives you words that rhyme with a word

site that gives you synonyms and antonyms

[kkenmie]

converging threads | zayne

part one | part two

⤜ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ- “And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

“Now, he’s clawing his way into my thoughts, trying to make sense of a life that isn’t his to have.” Zayne’s hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, as if anchoring himself to something tangible. “And every time I look at you—” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he clutched you. “He’s reaching for you. And I don’t know if it’s me who wants you or if it’s him bleeding through.”

(Or… after the events of Chansia City, Zayne had started to avoid you. More than a week later, in the dead of night, he's outside of your door, struggling with his sense of self—blurring between two worlds.)

⤜ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ- zayne x female reader

⤜ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ- angst, smut, & fluff

⤜ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ- 8k

⤜ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ- nsfw, mdni, softdom!zayne, references to zayne's third anecdote (still in the dark), spoilers to zayne's main story branch (thorns under the moon) and four star memory (fragmented dreams), mentions of childhood trauma and violence, too much angst, oral sex (blowjob), dirty talk, penetration (p in v), clothed sex, riding, breast play, emotional sex, unprotected sex, and creampie.

⤜ ɴᴏᴛᴇ- As a dedicated Zayne main, I've always had a soft spot for Dawnbreaker!Zayne, I just want to give him the biggest hug! While he never explicitly took control of main story Zayne’s body, their connection through dreams and nightmares allowed them to see into each other’s lives. And so, I wanted to explore what it would be like if that connection blurred even further after the events of Chansia City, and how Zayne would react to it. I hope you enjoy reading!

The knock at your door was soft, barely audible over the hum of Linkon City outside. You might have missed it had you not been awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the restlessness clawing at your chest. Something felt wrong.

Hesitating for a moment, you peeled the blankets away and stepped towards the door. When you opened it, Zayne stood there, still as a statue. The warm glow from your apartment barely touched him; he lingered in the shadows of the hallway, his expression unreadable, like he was caught between two worlds—one where he stood before you and another far beyond, too distant to reach.

“Zayne?” Your voice was uncertain, your fingers tightening around the doorframe. He looked normal—his crisp shirt unwrinkled, his coat still shielding him from the cold. But his posture was rigid, like he was torn between memories, caught between the man you knew and something far more elusive, far darker. His breath came slow, controlled, but his fingers twitched at his sides, as if holding onto something unseen, something slipping away from his grasp.

It had been more than a week since you last saw him—more than a week since you clawed your way out of his dreamscape, fighting against the twisted phantoms of his nightmares and the suffocating pull of his uncontrollable evol. More than a week since he began avoiding you, and you couldn’t understand why.

You had searched for him—at Akso Hospital. 

You pushed open the door to Akso Hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling your nose as you made your way down the familiar corridors. The sight of the bustling staff, the low murmur of nurses giving reports—it should have been comforting. But it wasn’t. Every step you took felt heavier, the weight of worry pressing down on your chest.

You were looking for Zayne. It had been a week since you’d seen him, and the silence between you was suffocating. You had tried calling, texting, but there was no sign of him.

You found Greyson near the nurses’ station, chatting with a few other doctors. He noticed you first, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his usual, easy smile appeared.

“Hey,” he greeted, his tone too casual. Too… practiced. “What brings you by?”

“I was hoping to see Dr. Zayne. Is he around?” You tried to keep your voice even, but the question felt like a weight in your chest.

Greyson shifted on his feet, glancing toward the hallway where Dr. Zayne’s office was. “Oh, you know how it is,” he said with a shrug. “He’s been buried in surgeries lately. Really busy.”

You frowned. “Busy? He hasn’t been answering my calls. I’ve tried everything.”

At the sound of your words, Greyson’s gaze flickered uncomfortably, and before he could answer, Yvonne appeared beside him, her bright smile almost too wide.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here today!” Yvonne chirped, her voice all sweetness, but there was a subtle edge to it. “Greyson’s right. Dr. Zayne’s probably just deep in work. You know how he gets, don’t you?”

You nodded, but the unease in your chest grew. “But… I haven’t been able to reach him. And he’s been avoiding me. I’m starting to get worried.”

There was a beat of silence before Yvonne glanced at Greyson, then back at you. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion almost too practiced. “Oh, you know Dr. Zayne,” she said, her voice a little too smooth. “He’s a bit of a workaholic. And, well, he’s been dealing with some… personal things lately. I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he’s ready.”

Greyson cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s just focused on… other things right now.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach. Something wasn’t right. Both of them were too evasive, too careful with their words.

“So he’s just been… avoiding me because he’s busy?” You asked, your voice thick with skepticism.

Yvonne’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes shifted just a little. “Exactly! He’ll reach out when he’s ready. Don’t worry.”

But you weren’t convinced. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they weren’t telling you. Before you could press further, Yvonne’s phone rang, and she quickly excused herself with a bright, almost rehearsed smile.

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Zayne’s just… well, Zayne. He’ll be back to his usual self soon enough.”

The words felt hollow, like a lie wrapped in a smile.

You turned to leave, the knot in your stomach tightening. Something wasn’t right, and you were more determined than ever to find out what was going on.

You even went to his home not two days after. You had been patient, given him space, but the silence between you was gnawing at you, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You arrived at his place and paused outside the gate, your heart sinking. The house sat dark and still, as though no one had been home for hours. The front door was locked, the quiet expanse of the yard untouched. No sign of Zayne’s car in the driveway. No movement behind the windows.

Frowning, you reached for your phone, calling him once more. It rang, and rang… and rang. But there was no answer. No familiar voice on the other end. You tried again, and again—each unanswered call tightening the knot of anxiety in your chest. It was unlike him. Even when he was busy at work, he always answered your calls. You thought things had changed between you—gone beyond just childhood friends, past the barriers you once had.

You hadn’t been able to ignore the way things had shifted between the two of you, how you’d shared more, laughed more, and even kissed—moments that felt like stepping into something real, something undeniable. And yet now, in the silence, you felt that connection fraying, slipping out of your grasp.

You reached for the gate, testing it, but it was locked tight. The metal was cold beneath your fingers, the weight of it pressing down on you in a way you couldn’t quite shake. You knocked gently on the gate, your hand hesitant against the metal, but there was no answer. No sound from inside. No footsteps echoing in the distance. Just more silence.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the door, wondering if you were missing something, if you were just being paranoid. But there was no denying the gnawing sense that you were being shut out.

Yet now, here he stood, unannounced, uninvited. The sight of him should have brought relief, but something was off, like he was a mere shadow of the man you knew.

“You should’ve let me in sooner,” he murmured, a wry attempt at a smile barely forming before fading just as quickly. His voice was softer than usual, almost exhausted, like the fight had been taken out of him. You stepped aside instinctively, letting him in. He didn’t move right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on you—as if memorizing every detail, confirming that you were real, that this wasn’t just another one of his nightmares.

Then, finally, he stepped through. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the two of you in the silence of your small apartment. He exhaled, but this time it was unsteady—as if releasing a breath he’d been holding for far too long. His hands trembled, and he shoved them into his coat pockets, a feeble attempt to mask the unease rolling off him in waves.

“Zayne, where have you been?” The question came out before you could stop it. His avoidance had gnawed at you, making every second of silence between you feel like it stretched on forever.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor for a brief moment, like he was trying to find the right words. Then, finally, his voice broke through, hoarse and fragile, as if he’d been swallowing down too many words for too long. “Every time I close my eyes, I see a world where you don’t exist.”

The confession hit like thunder in your chest. Your breath caught, eyes wide with confusion, but something else too—fear, a strange sense of loss, creeping in. You stared at him, unable to comprehend, yet knowing there was so much more buried beneath the surface.

“It’s not just nightmares anymore,” he whispered, voice barely audible. His eyes flickered with something raw and unfamiliar—something you hadn’t seen in him before. “It’s bleeding into the day. I can’t… separate it. Separate me.”

You frowned, confusion tightening around your thoughts, heart pounding. “Separate what? Zayne, what are you talking about?”

He stiffened, jaw tightening as if he’d realized he’d said too much. He shook his head, dismissing the words before they could fully escape. “Ignore what I said.” he muttered, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

“Zayne…” You stepped closer, cautious but firm. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, but there was no humor in it. His hand drifted to his temple, pressing hard as if trying to force something out of his mind. “I don’t know how to explain it.” His voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in his composure. “I don’t even know if it’s mine to explain.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Zayne was rarely uncertain. But now, he looked lost, like he was trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. The man who had always been in control, who always had an answer, was unraveling in front of you.

“Then let me help,” you said softly, reaching for him.

He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists before loosening just as quickly, as if even that took too much effort. “I don’t think you can,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. The warmth of his body under your touch should have felt familiar, comforting, but there was something cold in the air around him that you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m here,” you reminded him gently, voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His shoulders sagged just slightly, his resolve faltering under the weight of something neither of you could name. 

You guided Zayne to the couch with a soft insistence, his steps heavy, like each one was taking him further away from something he couldn’t quite grasp. He didn’t resist, but his hesitation was palpable. You noticed the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he sat down, his back stiff, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

You sat next to him, your fingers brushing the fabric of his coat as you settled yourself. The space between you both felt charged, yet strained, like two magnets unwillingly attracted but refusing to align.

Your hand hovered near his arm, unsure, but you couldn’t ignore the impulse to reach out. The last few days—weeks—had felt like a slow, suffocating crawl through a fog. Seeing him like this, so unguarded, was both a relief and a deepening worry.

“Zayne…” You started, your voice low, soft. You weren’t sure how to approach him anymore. He had been pulling away, emotionally distant, and now, even his presence seemed fractured.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve.

At the first touch, his body flinched. Not an outward movement, but a sharp intake of breath, like a quiet shudder that ran through him. His hazel-green eyes were blown wide, pupils dark and dilated, swallowing the soft color until only a thin ring of green remained. For a brief moment, he looked at you—through you—like he was caught between two realities, struggling to tether himself to the one in front of him.

Then, just as quickly, his gaze flickered away, his throat working around a breath that sounded too controlled, too measured. As if he was holding something back. The air between you thickened, the weight of his restraint pressing into the space between your fingers. His jaw tensed, a sharp line of tension beneath his skin, and yet—he didn’t move away.

With a careful breath, you let your hand rest against his arm, your fingers curling gently around the fabric of his coat. You felt him tense beneath your touch, but it wasn’t from discomfort. No, it was something else. Something deeper. His body shuddered again, more pronounced this time, and you could feel his muscles ripple under the strain of holding back.

“Zayne…” You said his name again, this time softer, as though you were speaking to someone who was slipping away. You moved a little closer, hoping that your proximity would ground him somehow, though you weren’t entirely sure how.

His voice cracked when he spoke, low and hoarse, like a man speaking to a ghost. “Every time you touch me… it’s like… I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, your hand still resting on his arm, waiting, watching him closely.

Zayne exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides as if struggling to find an anchor. “I’ve always suffered from nightmares,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “The same ones I’ve always had since I was young. But after what happened at Chansia City…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It didn’t stop when I woke up.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You knew Zayne had always been plagued by restless nights, but this—this was different. You thought back to that moment at Akso Hospital, when you had found him slumped over his desk.

His brow was creased with the weight of exhaustion. His breathing had been uneven, his hands gripping the fabric of his coat as if he were bracing himself against something unseen. You had hesitated before stepping closer, unsure if you should wake him. But the quiet distress on his face made the decision for you.

“Zayne…” you had whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The moment your fingers made contact, he jolted awake with a sharp breath, his eyes wild with something you couldn’t name. For a split second, it was as if he didn’t recognize you, as if he were somewhere else entirely.

But then, his gaze softened, reality bleeding back into him. His breathing was still heavy, his shoulders tense, but when you knelt beside him, concern written all over your face, he didn’t pull away.

Without thinking, you had reached out again, brushing his hair back in a quiet attempt to soothe him. His body sagged under your touch, the tension in his shoulders melting just enough for him to lean forward. And before you could react, he rested his forehead against your chest, his breaths uneven as if the simple act of being close to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You had stilled at first, heat creeping up your neck, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, you let him stay there, your fingers threading through his hair in slow, absentminded strokes. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, the sound of his breathing evening out against you, his body losing some of its rigidness.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Just… let me stay like this for a while.”

And you had. Because for the first time, you realized how deeply tired he was.At the time, you thought he was just tired physically, but now you realized he was tired in a way that ran so much deeper as you watched him sitting on your couch, that same exhaustion clung to him like a shadow, only now it was accompanied by something far worse. He wasn’t just tired. He was unraveling.

“I thought I could ignore it,” he continued, pulling you back to the present. “I thought it would fade eventually. But it’s not stopping.” His fingers curled into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ground himself. “It’s getting worse.”

You swallowed hard. “The nightmares?”

“They’re not just nightmares anymore.” He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching before loosening again. “They’re memories of a life that isn’t mine.” His jaw tightened, his entire body tense with something unreadable. “And the worst part?” His eyes flickered to yours, dark and conflicted. “I feel like I’m walking on air, seeing things that aren’t there, feeling emotions that aren’t mine.”

You frowned. “Zayne, what are you talking about?”

His throat worked around a response, but for a moment, he said nothing, only looking at you with something close to desperation. He shook his head as if trying to shake off the words before they could leave his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, but you weren’t about to let it go.

“It does matter,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for more than a week. You look like you’re about to fall apart, and now you’re telling me ‘it doesn’t matter’? What’s happening to you?”

He let out a bitter chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t even know if I can explain it. It’s… there’s another version of me. One I can’t escape. And he—” Zayne cut himself off abruptly, dragging a hand over his face. “He’s ruining everything.”

The conflict in his expression made your stomach twist. You had never seen him like this—so lost, so tangled in something that seemed beyond even his understanding. And when you reached for him again, your fingers brushing past his sleeve against his skin, you saw the way he shuddered.

At first, you thought his reactions stemmed from discomfort—that every shudder, every tensed muscle was his way of pulling away. But then you saw it. The way his breath hitched. The way his lashes fluttered shut for the briefest second, as if savoring the warmth of your touch. As if he had been starving for it. 

It wasn’t rejection. It was restraint.

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally spoke, his voice raw. “Every time you touch me…” He exhaled sharply, as if the words themselves were dangerous. “It’s like my world’s losing its sense of direction.”

His confession stole the air from your lungs.

“But it’s not just me that wants this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s what scares me.”

Your fingers curled slightly around his wrist, grounding both of you in the silence between words. Zayne’s breath was uneven, his body strung taut beneath your touch. You could see it—the war waging within him, the push and pull of something he refused to name. His fingers curled at his sides, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was holding himself back.

But from what? From who?

The question burned at the edges of your mind, but you didn’t voice it. Instead, you did the only thing you could think of. You moved.

Slowly, you climbed onto the couch, onto him, your knees settling on either side of his thighs as you straddled his lap. His entire body went rigid beneath you, his breath stalling in his throat.

“You—” His voice broke, a warning tangled in desperation. His hands shot up, as if to push you away—but the moment his palms met your waist, he froze.

A violent shudder ran through him, his grip faltering but never leaving you. He barely held together, his fingers twitched against your sides, his body caught in an unbearable tension. 

“You shouldn’t…” he rasped, but even as he said it, his hands pulled.

Pulled you closer.

Pulled you flush against him, until there was no space left to retreat.

You gasped softly at the sudden contact, at the warmth of him, the way his body molded against yours like he had been starving for this. For you.

His head dipped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath came out in a harsh, unsteady exhale. His grip on your waist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel how badly he was struggling.

“Zayne…” You whispered his name, hands lifting to cradle his face, to guide him to look at you. He didn’t resist, but the moment your fingers brushed against his jaw, his eyes fluttered shut—his entire body reacting as if your touch was something he had been craving but forbidden from having.

“Every time you touch me…” He repeated, his voice was raw, nearly fractured. “I feel like I’m slipping deeper.”

Your fingers trembled slightly against his skin. “Slipping into what?”

His jaw clenched. His hands trembled against your waist, caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

“Him.”

The word sent a chill down your spine.

Zayne’s eyes finally opened, and what you saw there made your breath hitch.

Something was breaking inside him.

Something was bleeding through.

Like the fragile moment before dawn—when night still clung to the sky, desperate to remain, yet the light pressed forward, inevitable. A battle between darkness and the coming sun, neither willing to yield.

You didn’t know who he was, or why Zayne was fighting so hard to keep him at bay, but you could feel it—how much hewas longing for you. How much Zayne himself was afraid of that longing.

Your hands slid from his face to his shoulders, steadying him, grounding him. “You’re still you,” you murmured. “No one else.”

His fingers flexed against your waist, his breath ragged. “Then why does it feel like every time you touch me… I’m losing control of myself?”

He was slipping, unraveling, caught between two selves—one who had you, and one who had only ever ached for you.

And for the first time, Zayne wasn’t sure which one he wanted to be.

You sighed, your fingers curled against his shoulders, gripping him just a little tighter. His body was warm beneath your touch, but the tension in him never eased. If anything, it worsened.

“Zayne,” you whispered, searching his face. “Help me ease your mind, tell me everything. Tell me about him.”

His expression darkened instantly. His hands, still gripping your waist, stiffened before pushing you back—just slightly, just enough to put distance between you.

“No.”

The refusal was sharp, final.

But you didn’t let go. “Zayne, please.”

His jaw locked, his breath coming out in harsh exhales as he tried to rein himself in. But you had already seen it—the flicker of something raw in his gaze, the weight pressing down on him like it was crushing him from the inside.

He turned his head away, his grip tightening before he forced himself to let go. “I don’t want to tell you.” His voice was quieter now, but no less strained. “Because if I do…” His throat bobbed, his hands clenching into fists. “What if you look at me differently?”

Your chest ached. “Zayne—”

“He’s not me,” Zayne bit out, his voice lower now, edged with something close to rage. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes as if anchoring himself. “I don’t care what I see, what I feel—he is not me.”

You frowned, your heart pounding. “I didn’t say he was—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, his fingers digging into you much harder before he wrenched them away, as if touching you made it worse. “It shouldn’t matter. Because whatever he is—whatever he’s done—I am not him.”

His voice cracked at the end, his composure slipping, and it hurt more than anything. Not because of what he wasn’t telling you, but because he was carrying it alone, letting it eat away at him like he deserved it.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “Zayne, I don’t care what you think this means. I don’t care what’s bleeding through or what memories aren’t yours.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “What hurts me isn’t who you were or weren’t—it’s this.” You gestured between the two of you, the distance he was trying to wedge between you. “It’s you shutting me out, punishing yourself like you have to carry this alone.”

Zayne let out a sharp breath, his fingers curling into fists against the curve of your waist. His grip was tense, hesitant—like he was still fighting himself.

You watched him carefully, the weight of his silence pressing against your chest. He had been resisting, keeping himself locked away behind walls you couldn’t breach. But this time… this time, something shifted.

And then you realized it.

It wasn’t your persistence that made him falter. It wasn’t even the promise that you would accept him, no matter what. It was the fact that you told him it hurt you too. That his silence, his self-inflicted suffering, didn’t just wound him—it wounded you.

Zayne’s throat bobbed, his gaze flickering, as if weighing the consequences of speaking the truth. His fingers flexed against you, his breath uneven.

Finally, he asked, “Do you know why I became a doctor?”

You hesitated. “Because you wanted to save people.”

“Partly,” He let out a bitter laugh. “But mostly because I spent my entire childhood dreaming of a man butchering them.” His hands raked through his hair, gripping at the strands.

“It started when I was twelve.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I didn’t understand it then. I just knew that every night, I saw his hands, covered in blood. I heard the screams, felt the cold metal of a blade I never held.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “And every morning, I woke up terrified that I’d become him.”

You sucked in a quiet breath.

“That’s why I became a doctor,” Zayne muttered, his voice barely audible now. “To erase him. To bury him. Every life I saved was another step away from him.” His gaze snapped back to you, and there was something close to desperation in it.

He paused, and his gaze softened just slightly as it met yours, though there was still that edge of desperation.

“And… I wanted to help you, too. Since the first time I saw you struggling with your heart… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not like that.”

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

“But now?” His gaze locked onto yours, and you almost flinched at the intensity in his eyes. “Now it’s not just nightmares. After Chansia City… it’s like something cracked. Like I bled through him.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

His fingers flexed against your skin, then curled into a fist, as if the words physically hurt to say. “I used to only see flashes. His world, his sins—they were nothing more than fragments. But now? I see his everyday life.” His voice dropped lower, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “I see him waking up in an empty apartment, walking through streets that no longer have names. I see him looking for something—someone—who was never there.”

Your chest tightened. “Zayne—”

“And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

“Now, he’s clawing his way into my thoughts, trying to make sense of a life that isn’t his to have.” Zayne’s hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, as if anchoring himself to something tangible. “And every time I look at you—” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he clutched you. “He’s reaching for you. And I don’t know if it’s me who wants you or if it’s him bleeding through.”

Your heart pounded.

His pain was something you could see, something you could feel in the way he held you too tightly, in the way he refused to look away, as if afraid you’d vanish if he did.

“Does it change anything?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Zayne’s breath stilled.

“No, it doesn’t,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I want you. I do. I’ve never denied that.” His fingers curled against your skin, holding you closer. “But this… it’s never felt like this before.”

His gaze darkened, his brows drawing together. “Like I can’t go a second without feeling you, without needing you right here. And I don’t know if it’s just me—if it’s always been me—or if it’s him. But it doesn’t matter.” His voice dropped lower, rough with something unspoken. “Because either way… I still want you.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’re here, right now. Whatever he feels, whatever he wants—this moment belongs to you.”

His throat bobbed, the conflict in his gaze raw and unfiltered. His fingers twitched where they held you, as if he wanted to push you away and pull you closer all at once.

And then—finally—he whispered, “I don’t know if I can separate us anymore.”

Zayne’s breath hitched, his hands still gripping your waist like a man on the verge of breaking. His body was rigid beneath yours, every muscle coiled tight with restraint. His stormy eyes flickered between your lips and your gaze, warring with something unseen.

You could feel it—the way he was holding himself back, the way his fingers twitched against your skin like he was fighting the instinct to pull you in.

And then, just when you thought he might push you away—he moved.

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss rough, almost desperate. A sharp inhale left him as his fingers tightened at your sides, pressing you flush against him. It wasn’t careful, wasn’t measured like everything else about him. It was hurried, hungry, as if he had been drowning for far too long and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

Yet even in his desperation, there was hesitation—a tremor in his touch, a battle within him. His grip faltered, his breathing unsteady, as if his own emotions were overwhelming him.

For a moment, he slowed, his lips ghosting over yours, softer now—less frantic, more reverent. His fingers traced up your back, like he was memorizing every inch of you, terrified you might disappear.

But then when you surged forward to deepen the kiss, something in him snapped.

His restraint shattered as his hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. His other hand dug into your waist, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath against your lips, his body trembling beneath your touch.

It wasn’t just desire—it was longing. A desperate, aching need that had been simmering beneath his skin for far too long.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

He kissed you harder, as if trying to chase away the ghosts of a world where you didn’t exist—where he had spent endless nights reaching for something that was never there.

Zayne’s breathing was ragged as he suddenly tore himself away from you, his forehead pressing against yours, his grip on your waist still firm but trembling. His chest rose and fell in unsteady heaves, as if he had just surfaced from deep waters.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped, his voice thick with something raw and desperate. His fingers flexed against your waist before slowly dragging up your sides, his touch both grounding and possessive. “But I need to feel—” His words cut off, a quiet ‘fuck’ slipping from his lips as he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stop.

You could see it—feel it. The battle raging within him. The desperate need to claim this moment as his own, to separate himself, to make sure that this—this longing, this ache, this hunger—was his, and not something bleeding over from the nightmares that haunted him.

His fingers ghosted over your arms before gripping your wrists, guiding them up to rest against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms, erratic and heavy, proof of his struggle. His eyes searched yours, dark with emotion, pleading for something he couldn’t voice.

“I need to know it’s me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not him. Not the dreams. Just… me. But I don’t trust myself enough not to hurt you.”

His fingers brushed your skin, hesitant, reverent—like he was afraid of his own hands.

“But I trust you.”

The words felt heavier than anything else he had said tonight, laced with the weight of every nightmare, every fear, every ghost of a life that wasn’t his. He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I need you to take control,” he murmured, each syllable careful, deliberate. “I need to know this is real—that you’re real—that I’m real.” His hands curled into fists before he forced them to relax against you. “Because if I let go now… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

There was no mistaking what he meant. No mistaking the conflict in his gaze—the desperation tangled with restraint, the need warring with self-loathing.

Your hands slid up from his chest to cup his face, fingertips brushing against the sharp angles of his jaw. 

“It’s you, Zayne,” you whispered, your voice steady, certain. “You.”

You tilted his face up, brushing your lips against his—a whisper of a touch, just enough to tether him to the present, to this moment with you. He shuddered beneath your touch, his hands tightening at your waist as if anchoring himself.

“I’m here,” you continued, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another along the line of his jaw. “This is real. We’re real.”

A sharp exhale left him, his resolve breaking little by little as you pressed against him. His grip on your waist faltered, then returned, stronger—desperate.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmured against his skin.

He shuddered at your words, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he wrestled with the warring emotions inside him. When they opened again, the desperation had intensified, the dark gray irises nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils.

“Show me,” he rasped, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. “Make me believe it.”

You took your time, trailing kisses along his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt as your lips travelled down. You wanted to savor this moment, to make sure he knew it was him, that this was real.

As you sank to your knees before him, you looked up at Zayne through your lashes. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. You wanted to erase every nightmare, every fear, every shadow that haunted him.

“You’re real,” you murmured, your breath ghosting over his cloth-covered arousal. “This is real.”

With a steadying breath, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the bulge straining against his zipper. You could feel the heat of him, the throbbing need, and it made your own body ache in response.

You worked slowly, unzipping him with deliberate care, letting your fingers brush against his arousal as you did. He was already hard, the thick length of him stretching the fabric of his boxers. 

You haven’t seen him naked before, and crossing this line made your thighs clench. Glancing up at him, you caught his gaze, holding it as you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. His cock sprang free, long and thick and perfect, the swollen head already glistening with need.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around the thick base of Zayne’s cock, giving him a firm squeeze as you gazed up at him with hooded eyes. “You’re beautiful, Zayne.”

Slowly, teasingly, you started to stroke him, your soft palm gliding along his hard length. You could feel every throbbing vein and ridge, committing the shape of him to memory.

Leaning in, you breathed over his swollen cock head, then, with a deliberate slowness that was almost torturous, you dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein that ran from base to tip. You lingered at the sensitive spot just below the head, swirling your tongue around it before giving it a firm press.

Zayne shuddered and groaned, his fingers flexing in your hair as you dragged your tongue back down to the base, your hand following the same path. When you reached the bottom, you dipped your tongue into the neat little slit at the tip, tasting the first salty drops of his arousal.

Savoring his flavor, you wrapped your lips around the swollen head, your soft mouth stretching around his impressive girth. You suckled gently, your cheeks hollowing as you began to take him deeper, inch by hard inch.

“Your mouth… it feels so g-good…” he groaned.

The praise that escaped his lips made the flush on your face more evident. As your lips moved slowly down his shaft, encasing him in the slick heat of your mouth, your tongue undulated along the thick vein on the underside as you took him deeper, until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat.

You held yourself there for a long moment, relishing the heavy, throbbing weight of him, the musky scent of his arousal flooding your senses. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you began to bob your head, taking him deeper into your throat with each downward motion.

Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, stroking and squeezing as you sucked him. You could feel him growing harder, the thick length of him pulsing against your tongue as you pleasured him.

“Fuck… just like that…”

You couldn’t help but moan around his cock at his groans, your brain committing the sounds to memory. You doubled your efforts when you felt he was close, sucking harder, stroking faster, your tongue never still as it lapped and swirled and caressed every hard, throbbing inch of him.

His grip on your hair tightened, his hips starting to piston forward, fucking your mouth as you sucked him with wild abandon. You could feel his body tensing, his breath coming in harsh pants and groans. 

“I can’t… I can’t hold back much longer…”

And then, with a roar that was nearly feral in its intensity, he came. His cock jerked and throbbed as it erupted, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum down your eager throat.

You swallowed it all, working your throat to milk every last drop from his pulsing length. The taste of him was intense, the salty-sweet flavor of his essence exploding on your tongue.

As the waves of his release began to ebb, you slowly pulled back, letting his still hard cock slip from your lips with a lewd pop. You licked your lips, savoring the lingering taste of him as you gazed up at Zayne with a look of pure, sated desire.

“Zayne,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s you. This is you. You’re real.”

You placed a soft, lingering kiss on the tip of his cock before nuzzling your cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with a smile that was pure tenderness mixed with deep, abiding lust.

As the last tremors of his intense orgasm faded, Zayne reached down and gently but firmly pulled you up by your arms, urging you back into his lap. You went willingly, straddling his hips as you sat facing him.

His hands slid around to your back, one resting high on the curve of your shoulder blades, the other splayed across the small of your back, pulling you flush against his strong chest. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Gazing into your eyes, Zayne leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, with hunger, with a desperate need to claim you, to make you his.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him, pressing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, tasting himself on your lips and tongue.

As you both lost yourselves in the kiss, you could feel Zayne’s cock, still semi-erect and slick with your saliva, nudging against your core. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you ache with a renewed desire.

Almost unconsciously, your hips began to move, grinding against his in a slow, sensual rhythm. You could feel the heat building between your thighs, the dampness of your arousal soaking through your panties.

Zayne groaned into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt your hips rolling against his. His cock twitched and began to harden further, growing thicker and longer with each passing second.

Breaking the kiss, Zayne trailed his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse. “Ride me,” he growled against your skin, his voice low and rough with renewed desire. “I need to feel you, all of you, surrounding me, consuming me, making me forget everything but your name.”

You shuddered at his words, at the raw, primal need in his voice. Reaching down, you pushed your panties aside, baring your slick, needy sex to the cool air and his heated gaze. You could feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, a testament to how much you wanted him, needed him.

With a roll of your hips, you positioned yourself over his hardening length, feeling the thick head nudging against your entrance, you slowly sank down. You were so wet, so ready for him, that he slid inside you with a single, smooth thrust.

You both groaned at the sensation, your inner walls fluttering and clenching around his thickness as he stretched and filled you completely. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it brushed against your sensitive flesh, igniting nerve endings you didn’t know you had.

Zayne’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him. You started slowly, rising up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt.

“You feel so good, love.” he murmured, his lips parted open.

With each downward motion, you could feel the pleasure building, the coil of tension in your core winding tighter and tighter. 

You arched your back and Zayne leaned forward, freeing your breasts from the confines of your shirt as he lifted it by the hem. He captured one straining nipple in his mouth, suckling and nipping at the sensitive bud. His free hand slid from your hip to the juncture between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the swollen nub in tight, fast circles.

You cried out, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Your hips moved faster, rising and falling in a frantic rhythm as you chased your pleasure. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filled the room, spurring you both on.

His other hand inch upward, holding your head firmly, his fingers tangling in your hair, Zayne tilted your chin up to gently force your gaze to meet his intense, hazel-eyed stare. He let out a strangled moan, “Say my name, love. Come on…”

Zayne’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as he guided your increasingly desperate movements. His own hips surged up to meet yours, driving his thick length deeper, harder, faster into your clutching heat.

“Zayne,” you breathed, “You’re the only one I want, the only one I need.”

His breathing grew ragged, each exhale escaping through gritted teeth as he lost himself in the slick slide of your bodies joining again and again. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mixing with the staccato cries spilling from your lips.

Zayne’s hand moved from your clit to your breast, squeezing the soft mound roughly as he pinched and rolled the stiff peak between his fingers. He leaned down, his hair falling forward as he dragged his tongue over your collarbone, tasting the salt of your skin.

“Fuck, just like that…” he growled against your neck, his voice strained. “S-Say my name again—please…”

His words sent shivers down your spine, making your inner muscles clench around him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched you, filled you, owned you.

“Z-Zayne…!” you moaned.

Zayne’s thrusts became more erratic, more desperate at the cry from your lips. The hand on your hip slid around to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him as he pounded up into you. The couch creaking with each surge of his hips, the sound mingling with your cries and his grunts.

You could feel the tension building in your core, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter as you climbed towards your peak. Your nails raked down Zayne’s nape as you held on for dear life.

With a harsh curse, Zayne slammed up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his release overtook him. His cock jerked and pulsed inside you, painting your insides with his hot release.

The sensation of his release pushed you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, melting into him as your inner muscles clamped down around him while you came apart in his arms.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you gasping for air as the aftershocks of your release rippled through you. Zayne’s arms tightened around you, drawing you in close, his heartbeat steady beneath his damp shirt, grounding you in the moment.

In the quiet aftermath, as your breath began to steady, Zayne placed a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there as if memorizing the moment. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw and heavy with emotion. “For this. For everything.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding him to look at you. “You have me, Zayne,” you said softly, your words steady and sure. “No matter who you are, no matter who you become—I’ll never walk away.”

He paused as his fingers brushed gently across your damp cheek.

He spoke, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “All I know now is that… the only thing I’m sure of,” he began, his forehead resting against yours once more, “is you.” He swallowed, his grip around you tightening as if trying to ground himself in the present.

You thought that would be the end of it, but he exhaled, a shudder racking through him.

“I never believed in fate,” he added, his voice low, but without any trace of bitterness—only a quiet acceptance. “But now, I do. Because no matter where I am, or who I am… you’re the constant. The one thing that’s always been real.”

He paused, his words heavy with an ache that tightened your chest. “And I think… I think I’m meant to love you in every life, in every timeline. I’m meant to be with you. And no matter how complicated it gets, no matter what happens, I’ll always end up finding you.”

His grip on you tightened further, pulling you closer, as if to make sure you were really there. “Now… I can’t help but feel… bad for him.”

A heavy sigh escaped him, thick with weight and regret. “He doesn’t have you. He doesn’t get to have this—this connection.” His voice wavered, raw with something unspoken. “And I think that’s what hurts the most. No matter how much I try to separate myself from him, I can’t shake the feeling that a version of me is still reaching for you. That somewhere… in every universe, in every life, even if you don’t exist in it—it will always be you.”

part one | part two

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 if you want to check out more of my writings, head on to here — masterlist.

[kkenmie]

VOICE KINK - AN AUDIO SHOWCASE

I'm going to begin posting these weekly, where I will showcase a specific Card/Date/Secret Time/Memoria with some of my favorite voice lines attached! Zayne is my main, so I will probably be working through his cards first for the time being, but I promise I will eventually get to everyone! All of the actors are incredible!

If you haven't found the time, the desire to look-up, or even just missed out on Zayne's spiciest Secret Times, I've brought you some morsels to peak your interest and hopefully even your love of Zayne's voice.

Today, we're focusing on the absolute sleeper-hit, that is, Silent Poem. I will never be over this particular secret time. Those who disagree can pry it from my cold, dead hands, and it will still live on in my memory.

I'm going to let this card ruin you all now too...

I suggest using headphones so you will also be able to hear every delicious detail! This whole card is quite suggestive, but for the love of God, the last three clips are pretty NSFW so PLEASE do not listen to this in a public environment if you're foregoing headphones!

I think I had a mini stroke when he said this.

I would also just like to preface this by saying I think Zayne has some of the best audible kisses in the game. They are JUICY.

Still alive? These next ones might just end you. I placed the MDNI banner, because these are by far the most intense parts of the card and there are definitely...noises...in the background. However, this is also officially in the game itself, which does not yet have a Mature rating, so do with that what you will.

Have you ever wondered what he sounds like when he...you know..? You can stop wondering now.

CHEEKY BOY! the levels of both playfulness and pure filth are astounding.

"Say my name." I think we have actually ascended now.

Roll call! Is everyone still in one piece? I'm definitely not!

This card RUINED ME in the best possible way. I went in completely blind when I was collecting all of these cards and was focused only on the gorgeous artwork.

Honestly, I went into this card expecting heartache, pain, and LORE. What did I get instead? Something completely unexpected and deliciously filthy. (AND YES, IT'S ALL OF THEIR CARDS, THE VISUALS SCREAM LORE BUT THE CONTENT SCREAMS "HOW IS THIS GAME NOT CONSIDERED 18+ YET?!)

As I've mentioned in my last three posts highlighting this man's sensational work through Tomorrow's Catch-22 banner, I am already this VA's biggest fan. He has my favorite voice of all the LI's (this is NOT hate, they are all PHENOMENAL and fit their characters incredibly well!)

Zayne's voice just happens to hit differently for me. It is definitely not for everyone, as clearly expressed by those who find him too stiff or monotone. And I agree, his voice is stiff. It absolutely is monotone when you first meet him and even through the first few dates and interactions you have with him. But here's the thing - it's supposed to be. He's supposed to be that stoic, unapproachable, awkward man who you really can't get a read on.

It's not as sinfully deep as Sylus', or dreamy like Xavier's. It's definitely not as playful as Rafayel's and it's not quite as charming like Caleb's.

Zayne's voice is dulcet. It's not incredibly deep, but it is pleasingly low and he speaks with an even, gentle cadence. Once you pass all the cute awkwardness of the first few dates, you start noticing it more and more. The difference becomes stark, so much so that people have even questioned if it was a different VA. But nope, same voice - just different situations and definitely different levels of intimacy!

(I also think with the OG 3 VAs, they evolved so much from all of their original content and have made these characters their own! Sylus' VA came in as a heavy-hitter from day one, he's incredible! I can listen to his voice all day. Caleb's voice is taking some time for me to really enjoy, but listening to some of his Secret Times have gotten me to fold a bit)

Zayne really hits his stride when him and MC are past that "will we, won't we" flirting phase. After that he's just an absolute menace, and his stoic voice suddenly comes alive with teasing and deadpan humor. You can hear the smiles and laughter in his voice, even if you don't always see it in his expression. And I think the VA does such a lovely job of it. He shows you that Zayne isn't cold or shy at all, and that beneath that reserve he's incredibly confident and flirty with MC.

Ok...I can go on and on and on (and I will in other posts, probably) so I'll pause here for now. Hope you had as much fun listening as I did clipping these. Hope they inspired some dreamy thoughts about our dear, big snowman and that he does indeed have some heat to him!

As always, see you in the next one.

If you have any suggestions/requests for upcoming showcases or even certain lines you want me to focus on, let me know!

[kkenmie]

Sylus is attentive, extremely so. Nothing about you is secret from him, whether you wish it was or not. Since you've been together, you've found yourself a victim of his control-freak tendencies— the fact your location, step count, heart rate, and apartment security cameras had all become his personal business was something that took a while to get used to. He's respectful as he can be about it, regularly reminding you he does it only to make sure of your safety and always coming clean whenever he's been snooping. Over the months you've grown to find it endearing instead of creepy, because it makes crystal clear how he simply cares so damn much about you.

You can't hide from him, even when you want to the most. When you're holed up under the blankets in the dead of winter, the shitty weather and 4pm sunsets bringing out the worst of your depression, he texts: "Sweetheart, 150 steps? Am I reading this right?"

You cringe, wanting to disappear. "Stop tracking me," you respond back.

"Have you not gotten out of bed?" His follow up text comes in immediately, and then those three dots pop up on your screen again. He's not giving you a chance to respond with the "I'm fine" he already knows you've halfway typed out. "I'm coming over. No questions asked."

Before you know it he's at your door, making himself at home without asking, his care quiet and efficient. Mephisto keeps you company in bed, chirping and whirring on your nightstand as Sylus busies himself tidying the apartment. After a moment, Sylus brings you a glass of water, toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom, a hair tie— little things that make you feel a bit more like a person again.

He then slips into bed next to you, helping tie your hair back into a neat ponytail as you demolish the first glass of water you've had all day. You give him a wordless, grateful look.

"You know, I won't think you're weak if you ask me for help," he murmurs gently, his voice gravelly and tender. He squeezes your shoulder.

You want to tell him that you know, but that it's just really hard. He gives you a warm look that makes you feel like he's just read your insecurities like a book, his hand slipping into yours beneath the blankets. He intertwines his fingers with yours.

"This is why I keep tabs on you, sweetie. I need you to know that I'll always be here."

[A/N]: this a combination of some similar requests and an expansion on one of my sylus headcanons! if you sent a request along these lines hope you enjoy :)

[kkenmie]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.

[kkenmie]

🌳 y/n climbs a tree in the middle of the night and kenma tries to stop them. lowercase intended. gn!reader. fluffff and comfort and years of pining.

"you're not supposed to be out right now, y/n," kenma said, looking up and crossing his arms with a twinge of annoyance. it was 3am and without a second thought, you decided to climb up a goddamn tree.

and kenma - as your neighbour, childhood best friend and what your mother called: 'the most sensible one' between the two of you, he had no choice but to see what you were up to... again.

kenma would've never called himself 'sensible', hence the record of staying up late on exam nights to play video games. but after seeing your schemes - which he's certain you're doing it deliberately to annoy him, kenma reluctantly took upon the role of keeping you out of trouble.

but you were a mix of everything kenma was not. you were the type to throw in anything that caught your eye at the supermarket, while kenma would scrunch his nose, trying to read the expiration date before putting it into the trolley. he doesn't like causing inconvenience for himself, if checking the expiration date could save him a stomach ache and some panadol, he'd take it.

you always decided things on a whim, and being with you was like getting pulled into a tornado - anyone who you interacted with was in for a definite whirl. kenma was just another speck of dust to getting sucked into it.

while it did tire him and made him want to pull out every strand of his 'fake blonde' hair (as you liked to call it), he couldn't bring it to himself to stop you. yes, kenma liked conserving his energy for much better things, but something about you could not make him say no.

you make his stomach churn, and he's positive it's a bad thing. though kuroo proclaimes it's love with glint in his eyes and a tug of his lips.

kenma strongly disagrees, of course. he tells kuroo to 'stop trying to act smart' but his heart hammering in his chest said otherwise. afraid his smug faced best friend might be able to hear it, he drops the subject instinctively.

thinking about it, kenma never thought about love that much. of course he overheard some conversations about it in class, but he didn't exactly experience it before.

in kindergarten, a girl giggled and told everyone kenma was her 'boyfriend', but she broke up with him after 2 days - that was the closest thing he had about a relationship. kenma wasn't the kind to get passionate about many things, volleyball was already a big step out of his comfort zone.

don't get the wrong idea, kenma wasn't in love with you or anything. he just liked your company, that's all.

of course, you weren't rowdy 24 hours a day, there is a soft side to you that kenma manages to catch a glimpse of.

evening walks, for example. he treasures those walks with you more than he'd ever admit. by evening, you'd already be tired out, your shoulders would relax, your lips curling into a small "o" to huff a sweet sigh of relief as your eyes fluttered shut. kenma's knees feel weak just thinking about it, if anyone asked, he'd tell them that he was just tired after walking for too long.

you would retreat from your charming demeanor and return back to the person kenma's world would come crashing down for. the person who laughed at his.. certainly interesting facial expressions and smiled softly at the sight of kids playing in the playground. the person who tugged his hand lightly and showed him around the mall with a toothy grin on your face.

so here he is, trying to get you to climb down said tree, while maintaining a small bit of sanity he has left.

"you're no fun, kenma," you teased, giving him your million dollar smile.

the male grumbled in reply, "but you love me anyway."

those five words rolled off his tongue without any hesitation, or thought behind his eyes. perhaps it was due to the fact that it was 3:16am now and he was starting to let his guard down.

....

time passed so slowly in that moment. of course you loved kenma, and you were certain that he loved you too. but, which love?

love? or love love?

"is this a confession, kenma?" you whispered, as your fists tighten around the tree bark.

the boy doesn't respond, but you catch a glimpse of his redden ears in between his hair and you know what that means. you've known kenma long enough to know what that means.

"just get down from that goddamn tree. let's go back inside, please, y/n. it's cold and i'm freezing. we'll discuss it another day," he says, avoiding your gaze.

another day it is. fine.

right now, you're satisfied with the way things are between the two of you. but why is your heart beating so loudly that it hurts?

[kkenmie]

💤small timeskip kenma hcs, lowercase intended, super fluffy, reader is gn, sorry if there's mistakes i'm about to head to bed

towards the end of the day where office lights are switching off one by one, where shop owners flip the sign outside their store to "closed", where students are sighing a sigh of relief after crashing into bed, kenma never fails to make a phone call to his loved one - you, of course, to tell you that he's on his way home from work.

kenma, who watches gilmore girls with you on the couch when you're sad. he laughs at all the right moments.

kenma, who notices when it's getting late and your eyelids are getting harder to stay open. he reaches for the remote control and offs the tv. at this point, he can feel your breathing is already steady and he just knows your asleep. he pushes away the hair falling in front of your face and contemplates bringing you back to the bed. (he ends up falling asleep with you on the couch. you both wake up incredibly sore and he blames YOU for it.)

kenma, who is undoubtedly the big spoon in the mornings, especially if it's a monday morning. monday mornings can go to hell. beware, he will cling to you all morning like a moth to a flame.

[kkenmie]

it was kenmas birthday yesterday i didn't even notice </3

[kkenmie]

how are yaaaa 🥺

💌 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. 💌

AAAAA THE EMOJI HAS MY HEAD IN MY HANDS. but to answer ur question, im doing okaay whdnhwks

i haven't been active on tumblr HAHAHAHA 😭 btw i just realized u play genshin!!! (or do u still play?) are u on asia? (i feel like ive asked this question before hehe.....)

[kkenmie]

🥰

💌 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. 💌

that's so sweet 😭😭😭😭 *sends it right back to u*

the way u thought of me :( MY HEART IS SO TOUCHED. U ARE AWESOME-ER !!!

[kkenmie]

types of haikyuu chars on roadtrips!

after a car crash minor incident last time, he lets you drive. the wheel is all yours! (please, PLEASE drive.) but in exchange, he will be making the glorified roadtrip playlist, and he keeps reminding you about it - he calls it "gentle reminders". as if he hasn't stated it with his hands on his goddamn hips so many times when you both were planning the trip.

of course, you can have add whatever songs you want to, but remove one song of his favourites' and you bet he's making you sleep outside the hotel.

oikawa, just oikawa <3

unlike the previous group, do yourself a favour and let them drive instead!!! i like to believe they're a very hot driver. they wear sunglasses while driving and EVERYTHING. with their hands on the wheel, you can sit back and watch the view (aka, them.)

they've also prepared cut up fruit in a container, for you :D feed it to them while they're driving please, they will go red.

kiyoko, daichi & yamaguchi (hear me out)

huh? car? what's that? you guys will be driving IN STYLE... in a motorcycle. with your arms around their waist... mmm it's heaven (for the both of you)

they're thankful that the helmet can hide their blush because holy sht, this is something else entirely. the rush of the wind, the adrenaline in their veins, the beating of their heart - they hope you feel it too.

kenma (kuroo convinced him by stealing borrowing his car & leaving him to rent a motocycle), saeko 💘💘, nishinoyaa