#l&ds ff

[frostedfragments]

calling dr zayne! ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 2.2k words ✧.* only fans au summary: dr zayne stumbles across his favourite patient's onlyfans account warnings!: zayne breaks some rules!!!, masturbation, use of a sex toy, voyeurism note: couldn't help but imagine an au where zayne doesn't know you and you wind up as his patient...and breaks a couple of dr oaths lol note2: ive' never seen the of website so if the mechanics of it are innacurate pls ignore and lets stay playful together

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

There’s only so many online medical articles one can read before they need some mindless doom scrolling. It’s not often Zayne logs into his social media accounts, he much prefers to spend his small amount of free time reading or hiking, but he can’t resist catching up on what his friends and family are posting on Instagram. He doesn’t see them nearly as often as he should, and it’s the small trickle of guilt down his throat that has him scrolling on his computer, smiling when he sees a couple photos of his parents on their holiday, his co-workers on a night out he declined to join them on, and the occasional cat video.

He’s not sure how he finds it, but the explore page is such an overstimulating mess of faces and bodies that he usually avoids it completely. It’s only because his hand twitches that he even sees the post in the first place, but he looks. And continues to look.

The woman in the photo doesn’t show her face, just the long line of her neck and the soft, plumpness of her cleavage in a bra that leaves little to the imagination. He briefly wonders how a picture like this is allowed on the app, but he’s soon clicking on the profile before he can stop himself, intrigued by smooth skin and little else. He is still a man after all, and once he is exposed to the abundance of tantalising images on the woman’s profile, he is reminded how long it has been since he had his hands on a woman.

His favourite patient doesn’t count, he thinks reflexively, frowning that the thought even crept into his mind at all. You’ve been his patient for roughly six months now; you’ve had a heart condition all your life, one that is well-managed and non-life threatening, but still needs regular monitoring. Your previous heart doctor passed away, and so your case was given to Zayne.

He tries to shake the memory of your face out of his mind as he glances through the pictures, having every intention of clicking out of the woman’s profile and logging off for the evening. Maybe even taking a shower to rid his body from this sudden thrum of energy that radiates low in his stomach, but a link in the bio of the profile catches his eye. Snags his attention like a siren, luring him in with the promise of more, and he almost feels as if he’s doing something illegal when he clicks on it.

OnlyFans isn’t completely new to Zayne - there are a few colleagues he knows who watch adult content on the site, though he mistakenly always thought it was a place where fetish content lived. Feet videos, women humiliating men on camera, food play - not really his taste. But when the link has loaded, and racier images of the woman appear, Zayne feels his cock twitch, feels it begin to fill out as his eyes graze the image of the woman laying on a bed, back arched, breasts displayed beautifully in a black lace bra which leaves her pert, pink nipples completely uncovered.

God, he needs to get laid or something. He hasn’t had the time to date, or even the energy to masturbate, always exhausted from multiple surgeries in one day or typing up notes from said surgeries. His body reminds him now of the necessity to release all the pent up tension that collects in his spine, and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over the bulge in his slacks, sighing softly at the instant swell of pleasure.

His eyes dart back up to the screen, a flush warming his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he makes an account anyway before he can stop himself, typing in his credit card information and subscribing to the woman who seems to have come out of nowhere and locked in his attention with just a few pictures of her body.

Once he has full access to the page, he scrolls through picture after picture, some more explicit than others. When he reaches the video section, he notices one posted just a few hours ago titled watch me cum while i think about him. The thumbnail shows the woman in a pale pink lingerie set, plush thighs wrapped in white, lace stockings as she sits demurely on white bed sheets. Her neck, chin and full mouth are all that is visible of her face, and Zayne’s gut tenses as he moves the mouse over, clicking play on the video.

His speakers hum with the sound of the video as the woman walks towards the bed, sitting down and smiling softly. Her lips are glossy with a balm or something, and Zayne resigns himself to his base need, slowly unbuckling his belt as the girl shuffles back on the bed slightly.

“Hi guys,” Her voice filters through the speakers, and Zayne frowns, though he can’t think what it is about the voice that makes him pause, “I just got home, and I saw my favourite doctor today. Obviously, though you’ve all been asking, I can’t say his name, but just trust me when I say he’s…so fine,”

Zayne’s hand pulls down the zipper of his slacks, licking his lips, watching closely as she trails her hands over her skin that already looks flushed with arousal. The bra barely contains her full breasts, nipples already straining against the thin fabric. He needs to see them, his hands feel empty with the need to fill his palms with their softness, and he dips into his briefs to pull out his cock, already hard and red at the tip.

The woman has barely touched herself yet, and he feels so pent up he might come before she even gets started.

Reaching over, the woman grabs what looks to be a pink sleep mask, hands disappearing out of frame before she sits back on her elbows, her full face in frame, half covered by the mask. She rolls onto her tummy as she stretches across the mattress again, the sounds of a drawer opening and closing. Her ass is almost bare, round and soft in a matching pink thong. Zayne let’s his hand stroke experimentally over his dick, exhaling shakily.

The girl is back facing the camera now, long hair fanning out over the sheets. It has Zayne pausing again, the first shiver of alarm running through his spine as he spots something on her hip. A tattoo.

The same tattoo his new patient has. But surely, it’s just a coincidence. Maybe you and this girl just have similar taste. He pauses his movements, still as stone while his brain works overtime to avoid the truth of the situation.

By now the girl, or as Zayne realises with a start, you are fully spread out on the mattress. Your legs move restlessly, like you’re so turned on you can’t stay still, and Zayne’s eyes close at the way the thought sits heavy in his groin, balls tightening as his hand squeezes the base of his dick.

He absolutely cannot do this, he cannot watch a video of a patient writhing around on their bed in nothing but their lingerie. The item you had pulled out, a sizable pink dildo, is laying by your thigh, and there is no question between that and the title about what is about to happen. But then you start speaking again, and Zayne is forced to open his eyes at the sound of your voice.

“Will you guys stay with me?” Your voice is breathier now, and you lick your lips when your hand palms a breast. Zayne’s jaw clenches, “I’ve needed to come all day since my appointment. My doctor has such big hands, it’s so fucking hot -” You gasp, fingers twisting a nipple through your bra, and Zayne’s thighs tense, a thick bead of precum dribbling down his cock at the idea that you’re about to think of him while you fuck yourself.

He must be fucking dreaming. Or maybe it’s a nightmare, given that he’s breaking every single possible rule right now by not clicking out of this video. But his dick is almost throbbing in his hand now, and he can’t rip his eyes away from the screen when your hand trails over your stomach, fingers slipping under the elastic of your thong. Your hand presses back against the mattress as you moan softly.

“I’ve been wet the whole way home,” You whine, “His voice, it’s so deep and soft. And his eyes; he watches me like he could ruin me if he wanted to. I can’t stop thinking about him,”

Zayne loses the battle against his entire brain screaming at him that this is wrong, this is a terrible idea. That he needs to stop. But he can’t, how is he supposed to stop when you’re rocking against your hand, lips parted to accommodate the ragged breaths and throaty sounds you make. He strokes himself, all the air leaving his lungs.

Your other hand reaches down to your thigh where the dildo sits, forgotten, and you smile as you hold it up to the camera, “I chose my biggest one for tonight. I want to imagine him fucking - ah - fucking me,”

“Oh, fuck,” He grits, other hand gripping the arm of his desk chair. His balls ache, and he runs his thumb over the head of his cock, watching you with half-open eyes as you shimmy out of the thong.

“How much do you want to see?” Zayne almost thinks you’re speaking directly to him, and it feels that way with the intimate hum of your voice. Maybe you are, maybe you’re imagining him doing this right now. Breaking every rule and fucking his hand while you shift on the bed, facing away from the camera and falling forward to reveal your soaked, pink pussy and the tight hole above. Zayne’s teeth nearly bite right through his lower lip when your hand reaches back, small fingers pushing right inside.

His hand speeds up, the slick sounds filling the room alongside your moans, and he wishes you were right here with him. He wishes that instead of removing your fingers and sliding the dildo through your folds, that you were here, bouncing on his cock.

You sit up slightly, looking over your shoulder as you place the dildo at your entrance. Your lips curl into a smile, “I don’t even need any lube tonight. I’m so fucking wet,”

“Yeah, you are,” Zayne murmurs to himself, half-mad with desire to see you be filled up. Even if he can’t be the one to do it, his teeth ache as he clenches his jaw, waiting for you to sink down onto that silicone, imagining it's him.

Teeth pressed into your soft lower lip, you slowly take every inch of the dildo, thighs trembling slightly, enough to make the skin of your ass ripple a bit. When you raise your hips up again, the silicone is shiny with your need, and Zayne’s mouth is watering, his fist jerking almost too fast. He doesn’t want this to be over yet, but when you start to bounce it’s too late to slow down. You’re almost moving at the same pace as his hand, and he groans, falling back into the seat so he can jerk his hips up a little, fantasising that he’s under you, that you’re taking him like a good girl would.

“Oh, god,” You whimper, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself like a melody through Zayne’s speakers, “s-so big, oh he’s so big, I know it -,”

“Shit,” Zayne digs his nails into his thigh to stop himself from coming. There’s sweat running down his chest now, and he reaches up to undo his tie, tossing it to the ground. He can barley breathe, his cock so wet it’s almost like he’s actually fucking you.

“F-fuck- I waited all day for this. Since I left his - hng - office. God, I want him to fuck me on the desk. I bet he would be so good, so rough. Oh god, please,” You’re no longer bouncing on the dildo, instead grinding your hips on it, skin dewy and flushed red, “God, I’m gonna come, oh - oh, fuck -”

Zayne is shaking, his hand almost cramping from how fast he’s dragging it along his cock. His balls give a warning throb before he flicks his eyes up to see you coming with him, your thighs twitching, hips moving jaggedly as you continue to grind down on the fake cock. He twists his wrist at the head of his length and groans loudly, closing his eyes, imagining you’re coating his dick, coming all over it. His cum stains his fingers and his white shirt, chest dropping harshly with every breath he drags in. His body feels weightless, eyes heavy, and he opens them to watch as you roll over on the bed, on your back with your legs parted, showing him and the camera the mess you’ve made.

Zayne’s cock twitches back to life at the thought of cleaning you up with his tongue.

Before he closes the video, he watches till the end. Stares at the way you slowly come back down to earth, sleepily stretching and grinning at the camera, voice hoarse, “Thank you, doctor,” you giggle, before the screen goes black, and Zayne is left to stare at his sweaty, fucked out expression in the reflection.

“Fuck,” He says.

[ellealyssum]

put it all to rest ✦ sylus x reader ✦ fluff ✦ 900 words

insomnia's a bitch. good thing your man sleeps odd hours, too.

insomnia, cuddling, literal sleeping together, gn!reader

this is my first fic in many many years so please forgive me if it sucks... i have trouble sleeping and i love sylus so much

also on ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 You turn over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. No matter how tired your body felt, no matter how many times you yawned, sleep was still evading you. Stretching your arm out from under the covers, you check your watch that you'd left on the nightstand.

 3:56am. Three hours until you have to be up to get ready for work, if you still want time to brush your hair and shove some breakfast down on your way out the door, that is. It probably didn't help that the N109 zone was twice as far from the Hunter's Association as your apartment. 

 Pressing your face into the cool silk pillow, you mentally beg your brain to just shut up for five damn minutes. You didn't even have much to weigh on your mind tonight. The thoughts circling around your mind were all utterly trivial, but just enough to ward off the sweet relief of sleep. 

 What would the chef have ready for breakfast in the morning? Would the traffic be bad? Worse than usual? Have there been any accidents? They're a common occurrence in the N109 zone. People around these parts seem to love driving recklessly. Including the man whose bed you were trying, and failing, to sleep in right now. 

 Sylus had left around 10pm, being sure to give you your obligatory goodnight kiss on his way out. It was then that you had settled himself into his bed, expecting a restful night wrapped in soft sheets that smelled of soap and expensive cologne and him. He had promised you, quietly, lips inches from your own, that he would be home before you woke up in the morning. He didn't realise at the time that his promise was impossible to keep, because at this rate you would never have any sleep to wake up from.

 Through the silence of the base you hear a door shut and footsteps on the tiled floor. You know from their rhythm that Sylus was home, as if he were summoned by your thoughts. He lets out a brief sigh as he reaches the bedroom door. Whatever meeting or deal he had just returned from had probably been tedious, as usual. Not wanting to concern him with your lack of sleep, you roll away from the door and focus on slowing your breathing. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

 Sylus gently opens the door, being as quiet as he can as to not disturb you. Even after a hard day of work, your comfort was still his top priority. The lush carpet softens his footfalls as he makes his across the room. The gentle rustle of his shirt being removed and placed on the armchair reaches your ears. The bed dips slightly as he sit on the mattress, shucking off his shoes before reclining against the headboard.

 "I know you're awake, kitten."

 You should have known you can't fool him.

 You whine in frustration as you turn to look up at him. You know your eyes must be tired and red, but he doesn't mention it.

 "What's wrong, sweetie?" he asks, calloused fingers brushing the hair from your forehead.

 "Can't sleep," you mumble, slightly embarrassed at your apparent inability to do something so simple.

 "Too many thoughts racing around that pretty head of yours, hmm?" The corner of his lips twitch upwards into an affectionate smirk. He always said you thought too much.

 "I wish they would stop," you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to stem the tears you could feel coming. The last six hours of frustration had reached a boiling point.

 Sylus slides down the bed to be level with you, pulling you into his chest. You feel his lips against your scalp and his strong hands on your back.

 "It's okay, darling."

You sniffle against his skin and try to wipe your tears with back of your hand.

 "But I have work tomorrow!"

 "That can be changed." His usually teasing tone has dissipated, leaving behind only sincerity. "Sick days exist for a reason. Besides, you really shouldn't be confronting wanderers on no sleep. I'm sure the association would prefer for you to be well rested."

 You always had a hard time justifying taking a day off to yourself. Despite trying, you can never escape the feeling that you're letting your team down, letting yourself down, not being strong enough to deal with something as silly as an overactive mind.

 As usual, it's as if Sylus can read your thoughts. He pulls back to meet your gaze.

 "Linkon's Hunter's Association won't collapse because their star employee took one day off."

 His brilliant ruby eyes are soft, as if pleading with you. You have to admit he's right.

 "Stay," he breathes, kissing your tired eyelids. "Stay with me, right here, in my arms. Please, sweetie."

 This man always finds a way to melt your heart.

 You snuggle closer to him as he pulls the covers over himself. His slacks and socks are still on, but he doesn't seem to care. He'd rather hold you than change.

 You place a kiss over his heart, winding your legs with his. The material of his trousers is soft and his body is warm. You mind slowly, finally, stops spinning.

 Somehow, the world always feels a little simpler in his arms.

[mochieekittenz]

Thinking about pussy-eating Sylus 🐦‍⬛

──★ ˙

He doesn’t just eat you out. No.

He devours you. Like you’re something forbidden, something precious. Like he’s been starved for days and you’re the only thing that can satisfy him.

The second he’s between your thighs — the world stops existing. There’s only you. Only your taste, your scent, and your body quivering under his tongue.

When I say pussy eater, I mean all in. He spreads you open with his fingers like he owns the right to see everything. No shame. No hesitation. Just pure hunger and a mouth that knows exactly what the fuck it’s doing.

He doesn’t rush. His tongue buried deep, working in tauntingly slow, deliberate laps while the bridge of his perfectly sculpted nose presses against your clit— until your thighs shake and you swear you’re seeing stars. His tongue so deep it feels like he’s trying to taste your soul through your cunt.

And it’s messy.

The messiest messy mess you'll ever see. His whole face is soaked with you — dripping from his nose to chin. He doesn’t care. He wants to drown in it, if he has to be honest.

Every whine you make just fuels him. You whimper, fuck, you sob — You try to squeeze your thighs together? Try to run from it? From how much you’re feeling? — He simply doesn't-give-a-single-fuck. He's glued there. You're not going anywhere until he’s had his fill.

And he never has his fill.

His eyes are locked on you the whole damn time. He watches every twitch, every moan, every little gasp you can’t hold back. He needs to see it. He watches every single one of your reactions like it’s sacred. Like your pleasure is some fucking religion and he’s the last true believer.

Not to mention that he's steel hard, throbbing and grinding down into the mattress. Pathetically unable to keep himself still — he bucks up just enough to tease his own pleasure while his mouth devours yours. Chasing any kind of friction because eating you out is turning him on that fucking bad. You can't complain any second because when he groans against you — heaven flashes before your eyes.

Sometimes he pulls back — not to stop, but to slide his fingers inside you and lick them clean, or to spit slow and heavy onto your swollen pussy, watching it slide between your folds, waiting for it to drip all the way down to your fluttering hole — just so he can slurp it all up again.

Shameless.

And he doesn’t just eat you like it’s a favor. He does it like it’s a fucking obsession. Every flick of his tongue is purposeful, every suck, every slow grind of his mouth against your soaked heat is designed to make you beg — not to stop, but to survive it.

Because when Sylus is between your legs, he owns you. Not just your body — he owns your soul, your whole sanity. He builds you up slow, torturously slow, only to tear you down with a single flick over your clit that has you crying out his name, clawing at his hair, cursing the gods for letting a man like this exist.

When you come—holy fuck—you don’t just come.

It’s not an orgasm.

It’s an exorcism.

And the worst part? He’s smirking. That cocky, dangerous little smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing to you — and he’s nowhere near done.

[frogbogus]

‎‧₊˚ ✧ LOVE AND DEEPSPACE SYLUS ✧‧₊˚

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You’re injured during a car shoot out and try your best to hide it from Sylus.

This is PART 2 to this post: SYLUS - please read part 1 before continuing.

a couple of people requested a part 2 so, of course, i happily obliged. i hope this post finds its way to them, and i hope it’s up to your expectations. <3

[ Based ONLY on the TRAILER to the Death and Rebirth main story update ]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

In the darkness of your mind you hear a deep, resonant hum rumbling, like a lullaby sung by the earth itself. You can’t help but be drawn towards the sound, something about it is alluring. Almost as if it’s guiding you, grasping you with its chords.

Your eyes open slowly, squinting as you take in the surroundings. Your hands twitch and you feel a soft plush blanket along your finger tips. The dark red interior was the first thing you noticed, how meticulously every decoration is placed, the way the moonlight shines through the large window to your right. Your eyes follow the moons rays across the room, to reveal a silhouette sat on a couch in the corner.

‘’I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to notice me.’’ Sylus states with a small, teasing smirk curling at the edge of his lips. Two red embers glow in the darkness of the room, and though they would have frightened others, they only pulled you closer—familiar, warm, and impossibly tender.

‘’Was that you humming?’’ Comes a mere whisper from your mouth, before he could respond you add, ‘’It sounded beautiful.’’ Sylus stands up then, with a grace only he could adorn, and walks towards you to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

‘’How are you feeling?’’ His hand reaches up to your forehead, then to your cheek where it lingers for a moment before he pulls away. With him this close, you notice the faint pink tint to the top of his ears — Is he embarrassed?

‘’I feel… surprisingly good.’’ You state as you breathe a sigh of relief and go to lift yourself up to a sitting position, but his large hand grips your shoulders gently, ‘’Be careful, take it slow.’’ His eyebrows furrowing as he helps you sit upright.

‘’I’m really okay, Sylus… Thank you so much. How can I ever repay you?’’ You lock eyes with him, your eyes full of appreciation. ‘’Repay me?’’ He lets out a low chuckle, gentle and rich, like velvet brushing against your senses. ‘’You owe me nothing,’’ he says softly. ‘’Your heartbeat is my reward.’’

He grabs a glass of water and swiftly places the rim along your lower lip, ‘’Drink.’’ His red eyes bore into yours. You know you’re perfectly capable of just drinking it yourself but something in you halts, allowing you to just give into the temptation. Allowing him to fully take care of you, as he wanted to. His other hand slithers its way to the back of your head, tilting it upwards ever so slightly, allowing the water to flow freely into your mouth. You were so thirsty, surrendering yourself completely to the stream, letting it spill across your tongue and down your throat.

He pulls the glass away, placing it on the bedside table. You go to wipe your mouth but his thumb is already there wiping the water from your lip, the pad of his thumb ghosting over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. His touch was slow, deliberately slow. His gaze lingers on your lips for what feels like minutes, before finally snapping up to your eyes.

‘’Good,’’ Sylus breathed out, his thumb brushing just slightly along your lip as he said it. The word came out slow, controlled, like he was holding back far more than just words. A strained exhale escapes his mouth as he moves away, standing up, towering over you. ‘’If you need me…Don’t be afraid to call out my name.’’ With that he starts walking towards the door, his hand reaching for the handle, ‘’You’re leaving?’’ The words slip out of your mouth before you can think, the disappointment more evident than you hoped.

The pace in which he turned his head to look back to you is almost humorous, like he was secretly hoping you’d say exactly that. ‘’You want me to stay?’’ His words are careful, as if he doesn’t want to scare away a stray kitten. You nod faintly, feeling shy under his gaze.

He reaches his hand to his mouth pretending to be in deep thought, but really he’s just trying to hide the soft smile that has appeared in his face. He couldn’t help it. You were… undoubtedly Cute. ‘’Okay then,’’ He starts walking towards the bed once more, ‘’I hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep on that couch. It is very uncomfortable.’’

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, ‘’No - Of course not, this is your bed. Only makes sense for you to.. sleep in it.’’ You shimmy over slightly to make room for him and tap the mattress, a giggle about to escape your lips at how bizarre this situation is. You’re in Sylus��� bed. The leader of Onychinus. And now you’re about to be in his bed together.

He carefully peels back the cover and slides into the bed, right next to you. He’s laid still, one arm folded under his head as he stares off at the ever so interesting wall ahead of him. Sure, you’ll admit, there’s a slight awkwardness in the air, a weird innocence, nervousness. But it’s comfortable. You feel safe.

You go to lean on your side so you can face him, ready to start a conversation, but you wince out as you move your right shoulder. He reacts in an instant, facing you and warily hovering his hand over your injured arm. ‘’I told you.. To take it slow.’’ He states, his voice etched with concern. He begins to move slowly, and repositions his free arm under your head, becoming a makeshift pillow. Noticing your injured arm awkwardly laying against the side of your body, he takes a hold of it gently, ‘’Here, put your arm over my chest.’’

‘’Thank you…‘’ You sheepishly say as you allow yourself to mould against him. This feels nice. You tilt your head up to him, he’s already looking at you. His gaze softening. He feels a sense of pride and protectiveness as he looks at you. ‘’Can you hum for me?’’ You blink up at him expectantly, you know it’s a silly request, but he truly sounded beautiful.

He sighs, opening his mouth, then closing it again. He was about to decline. But how can he? How can he ever resist you? He begins to hum under his breath, the deep timbre of his voice wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. A quiet song only you get to hear. The vibrations of his chest begins to lull you to sleep. Your eyes drooping and before you know it, you’re in a deep sleep.

Sylus’ eyes have also drifted closed as he continues his humming, the warmth of your body against him offering the most comfort he has ever experienced. He’s never felt so… human. He opens his eyes slightly, glancing down to your sleeping form. A faint smile on his face as he leans down to plant a kiss atop of your head. ‘’Goodnight.’’ He whispers to you, inhaling your scent as he does so and the worries fade away as he gives into the best sleep he’s ever had.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

thank you so much for reading. i love writing Sylus. i hope i captured his true essence. i have yet to proof read this; so if there’s any errors i apologise.

[t-lostinworlds]

I live my life a quarter mile at a time. Nothing else matters.

THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS (2001) LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — Death and Rebirth

[iz-star]

Hidden Motive.

Full version

Misty invasion trailer knocked me out. That's all I can say for now.

[cherimoyatea]

𝑪𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

– A sequel to Tipsy

Pairing: Rafayel x You Synopsis: Sequel to Rafayel's Tender Moments, Tipsy. You miss him like crazy and send him a song that reminds you of him while being away for two months. Tags: Fluff, Romance, Long-Distance Relationship, Music related theme, Confessing. A little teasing from Rafayel’s end (no smut or anything). Oh, and I made a little reference to his 5 Stars Card Floral Promise if you notice. Word Count: 2677K Side Notes: So, I had this little fic in my head after listening to Can't Stop Loving You by Artemas shortly after Tipsy was released, and decided to write it down eventually. I recommend listening to the song to enhance the experience, but it's okay if you don't. Or maybe you enjoy the song and don’t like the story; that’s also fine. 🩷 Also: While I’m not new to writing, I don’t consider myself as professional as other writers. I appreciate constructive criticism as much as kind words, if you have any! 💕 Okay, here we go~

It's been six weeks since Rafayel saw you off at the airport and you boarded the plane that took you away from him. Six weeks since you saw his cheeky grin or his endearing pout in person. Six weeks since you sank into his arms or breathed in his familiar scent. And only two weeks left until your time at the training camp is finally over.

Yes, you were allowed to use your phone on weekends, and you counted down the days until Friday would finally turn into Saturday again so you could spend hours talking to him. But it wasn't the same, was it? It only made you miss him more...

You sigh deeply as you lie in the bed of your shared room. It's late, past midnight and it started raining a couple of hours ago. Your roommate, another Hunter, is fast asleep while you toss and turn in your sheets, unable to find sleep. Though you were used to being apart sometimes due to your irregular missions and Rafayel's busy schedule, this was the first time you hadn't seen each other for almost two months. It was harder than you had expected, and you only survived the intense training and nerve-wracking tasks during the week because you knew you'd be able to communicate with him soon. Lost in thought, you subconsciously grip the necklace around your neck, feeling the weight of the locket he gifted you on your last evening before your trip. Recalling how sad and lonely he looked, almost pleading for you not to forget him, makes your heart ache even more.

Rafayel did his best to support you from afar, by holding back his desire for you to return to him and showering you with encouraging words instead. His lingering gaze would always betray him whenever he looked at you through the phone, playfully responding in his usual cheeky way as you talked about the tough training, strict rules, and how sore your body felt. He looked at you with a sense of loneliness that tore at your heart in ways you never thought was possible. While his lips curled into a bright smile, pretending he was busy with his artwork, he was probably running a countdown on his phone, counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until you were back.

Only the constant ticking of the clock on your wall reminds you of how much time has passed since you lay down and started listening to the faint droplets tapping on your windows. You still have a few hours left until Monday morning, so you grab your wireless headphones from the nightstand and connect them to your phone. Opening the music app, you hope it will help distract you from your aching...

...but as the soft strokes of the piano resound in your ears, you feel your heart sink further, unable to stop your thoughts from drifting to the purple-haired man you love. Every line of the song you're hearing reminds you of him and how much you long for him. Was he still awake? Maybe you weren't the only one who couldn't sleep. Without a second thought, you tap the share button on your screen and send the song to your beloved.

🎶

And the sirens sang out the sweetest lullaby

It's the best I've slept in a hundred thousand nights

I couldn't help myself

I was hoping you would love me one more time...

🎶

Your eyes grow heavier as you look at the picture of Rafayel on your nightstand, with your phone being the only source of light in your otherwise pitch-black room. It's one of the pictures you brought with you–the ones that Rafayel accidentally found and teased you about the day before you left for the training camp. You would usually hide them inside the drawer of your nightstand after your roommate caught a glimpse and almost spat out her tongue in surprise. But tonight, you decided to leave his framed picture out to find little comfort in those sunset eyes.

🎶

I'm perfectly sane, I'm fine

Do you think I've lost my mind?

You shouldn't be surprised

Swear that I just really miss you

I'd go to hell just to kiss you

And I've got a couple of issues...

🎶

"Wait! Your boyfriend is Rafayel?! The renowned artist, Rafayel?? No way!!"

You chuckle quietly as you remember your roommate's wide eyes and open mouth when you asked her to keep it confidential, nodding at you excitedly. While you feel proud to be his girlfriend, causing a fuss at your training camp is the last thing you want.

''...only two weeks left... hold on, MC.''

Another sigh escapes your lips in an attempt to embolden yourself. You grab Rafayel's photo from your nightstand and give the framed version of your beloved a gentle kiss before pressing it against your chest, feeling your heart flutter at the mere thought of reuniting with him in just a few weeks. Soon, your heavy eyelids eventually close, and you drift off with the frame pressed against you, succumbing to a short, yet deep sleep.

Another week passes while your daily routine in the camp is dominated by lectures, training sessions, and intensive sports units. Like every Monday morning, you and the other hunters have to hand over your phones to your supervisors to avoid distractions and stay focused on the tasks ahead. So when you finally get your phone back on this Saturday noon, you can't wait to talk to your beloved and see his beautiful smile again.

After taking a shower, you are dressed neat as a pin, prepared for a long video chat as you tap on his name in your contact list, your heart beating in anticipation.

No answer.

''Huh?'' You frown and take a quick look at your watch. It's exactly 2 p.m., the time you both agreed on for your chatting dates. He usually picks up after the first ring and greets you with his cheerful smile, but this time is different.

You try again, but the line seems busy, and after a while, your call goes directly to his Voicemail, only adding to your confusion. The rest of the day is clouded with restless thoughts while you try to call him over and over. Your mood switches from worry to frustration, then back to sadness and irritation as you consider all the possible reasons why he stood you up.

The other hunters left hours ago to spend their free day in the town center while you declined the offer to join them and stayed back to talk to your boyfriend. But now, you bury your sulking face in your pillow and feel like crying as your phone remains silent. His phone was dead–no messages, no emails, nothing.

Hours have passed, and you're still lying on your stomach with your phone next to your pillow. As you hear your roommate enter the room after her trip to the city center, you reluctantly turn onto your back, forcing a smile to hide the disappointment you feel.

''You missed something! There was a little fair today with all kinds of snacks and street food!''

You listen patiently as your roommate excitedly describes the food stalls she and the other hunters visited, but in reality, you just want to sulk in peace.

''Oh! You wouldn't believe it! I saw someone today who resembled your boyfriend!''

You perk up your ears and look at your roommate with a surprised expression, lifting your upper body onto your elbows slightly. Rafayel? She must be mistaken.

''You're seeing ghosts; there's no way he could be here.'' You say, shaking your head with a slightly irritated smile as you shift your gaze back to the ceiling with a deep sigh. He probably just fell asleep after pulling another all-nighter and forgot to charge his phone.

''Yeah, I guess so. Because when I approached him and asked for an autograph, he drew an ugly pot on the back of my hand instead!'' Your roommate pouts as she lifts her hand, showing you the drawing. ''I mean, if he really were your artist boyfriend, he could've done better than a hideous doodle, right?''

''A pot?'' Your eyes widen as you recognize the drawing on your roommate’s hand. You jump up from your bed and grab her wrist, taking in the fine strokes you know so well. The resemblance is uncanny…

''This… this is not a pot! It's a fish head!''

You grab her shoulders, shaking your roommate desperately as your cheeks flush. Could it be? Was he really here? ''Where did you meet him? Around what time? Please, I need to know!''

After a brief description from your puzzled roommate, you storm out, rushing through the hallway of the dorm. Your heart races as you leave the camp, desperately trying to find your beloved. It's already getting dark outside and you wrap your long cardigan tighter around your body. Although the days are summery and warm, the evening chill sets in, signaling the change of the seasons. You just pass through the huge gates of the camp when you suddenly feel someone grab your shoulder from behind. You flinch at the unexpected approach and turn around to stare into a pair of familiar pink-blue eyes–the ones you've been longing to see.

''Gotcha!'' Rafayel grins at you, his bright smile wide as he takes in your surprised expression. He is holding a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers with the wrapping paper slightly crinkled.

''Rafayel!? It’s you! It’s really you!'' Your heart skips a beat as you look at him, your eyes wide, hoping they aren't just playing tricks on you. After all the yearning, he's really standing in front of you, his lilac bangs swaying gently in the evening breeze as the last rays of light quietly disappear behind the horizon. ''What… what are you doing here? Why are you here?''

''Why am I here? For you, dummy!'' He pokes your cheek, still amused by your baffled expression, trying to play it cool while his own heart bursts with joy at seeing you again. He hands you the bouquet with an apologetic smile as he notices the crinkled wrapping paper. You feel his sweaty palms brush against yours and can't help but wonder if he's a bit nervous. As if reading your thoughts, he clears his throat and quickly pulls his hands away.

''I heard the song you texted me last Sunday, and while I couldn’t ask you directly, I spent the whole week analyzing the lyrics.... and then eventually came here to ask you personally.''

You feel flustered as you recall sending him the song, not expecting it would lead to such a big gesture. Quickly, you change the subject. ''What about the fish head you drew on my colleague's hand? What was that for? You stood me up on our date earlier, and your phone was off! You could have at least texted me!''

Rafayel's bright smile fades into a sheepish grin as he rubs the back of his neck, lowering his head slightly. ''Yeah, my bad. I was thinking about a surprise visit, but everything went wrong. I spent the whole day arguing with your authorities and making calls, but they're super strict and don't allow anyone inside their camp. So, I had to find a way to make you come to me instead... without ruining the surprise, you know?''

He rubs his chin thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the side as he recalls the day's events. ''Then my phone died, and I overheard a group talking about the tough training while I was in town, buying a power bank. I was about to approach them when a girl tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was your boyfriend. That's when I knew she must be the roommate you mentioned. But I didn't want to draw attention, so I doodled the same pot ehm-I mean fish head that you once drew on my hand. I knew you'd recognize it and come out to look for me!''

As you listen to him, your eyes widen in disbelief. All this trouble–just because of a song you sent in a moment of emotion?

''Okay, but Raf... you could have simply asked me on the phone why I sent you the song. It's actually pretty straightforward. The lyrics are about missing someone, and...''

Your words get caught in your throat, heat rising in your cheeks. Shifting your gaze away, you nervously fiddle with your sleeve, trying to come up with something that would feel less embarrassing to confess.

''…and? And what, cutie?'' Rafayel raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes, his smile softening. It's clear you're struggling to finish your sentence with your cheeks turning pink as you avoid his gaze.

''Let me help you. After analysing the lyrics and playing the song on a loop for hours, I concluded that someone must be madly in love to send a song like this during the early morning hours. After all, that’s what the title says… 'Can't Stop Loving You', isn't it?''

He leans in and gives you a soft peck on your warm cheek, catching you completely off guard. ''Now that we've solved this mystery, there’s something else I need to know…''

Your heart nearly skips a beat as you look up at him, still flustered, lips slightly parted. He's so close, that you can feel his breath on your flushed face, stirring something deep inside you. You gulp and nod, waiting patiently for the words to form on his pretty lips.

Rafayel's lips are inches away from yours, and his beautiful eyes darken as he whispers, making your knees go weak. ''Tell me… do you really memorise every freckle on my back?''

Another lyric reference. Great.

With an amused chuckle, he suddenly pulls away and winks at you, a smug grin on his face. You groan and roll your eyes, trying to hit his chest playfully, only for him to catch your wrist midair.

''You! Stop teasing me!!'' You pout, feeling a little disappointed that he fooled you and ruined the romantic atmosphere. But you can't help but chuckle along with him. He always knew how to brighten your mood and keep you on your toes, and you adore that carefree side of him. But as the hand holding your wrist loosens it's grip, your smile falters when you notice the watch on your wrist–it's almost 9 p.m. You need to be back before 10 p.m. to avoid getting into trouble for breaking camp rules.

''You didn't need to fly all the way to me, Rafayel... I'm so happy to see you, but… I need to go back in a while. You troubled yourself for nothing…'' You lower your gaze, a sad smile on your lips as you feel his slender fingers grip your chin, gently lifting your head to meet his gaze.

''What else am I supposed to do when I want to see you? It's not like I can cast your name like a spell and have you magically appear before me, huh?'' he says, as his expression softens. Rafayel locks eyes with you, cupping your cheeks in his freezing hands. While you can feel his thumbs caressing your skin, you almost tear up from the rush of love swelling in your heart as you realise how long he must have been waiting for you outside for his hands to be this cold.

He leans in, resting his forehead gently against yours, whispering softly as his hands find yours, holding them firmly. ''I heard you calling out for me and I followed... simple as that. And I would do it again, even if it means seeing you for only a moment…''

Your grip on the bouquet tightens as you look up at him, emotions flooding over you. A warm smile spreads across your lips as you finally find your voice again, your words faintly whispered.

''We still have one hour left... let's go somewhere warm, shall we?''

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

[calebdatabase]

Caleb • 0400

"Caleb Xia will serve as a stark reminder of the power that Ever possesses across timelines."

SUMMARY | A private glimpse into the Farspace Fleet Colonel’s morning after being plagued with nightmares (and daydreams) about you. 

GENRE | Minor Angst, Missing Scene, Worldbuilding, Plot, Sci-Fi

TAGS | T-Rated, Mullet!ColonelCaleb, Brief mentions of F!MC, She's referred to as his adopted sister, Yearning ofc, Flashbacks, Stalking tendencies, Use of Evol, Mention of death, Brief panic attack, Toring Chip influence, Implied telepathic connection, Pre-Homecoming Wings, Implied feelings, Shower scene hiii, Questionable daydreaming

WC | 2.8k Oneshot A/N | Hi, welcome to my first LADS fic! Call me Vaix. I wanted to explore the significance of Caleb’s Farspace Fleet Colonel uniform and what it represents to him versus outsiders. We often get to see impressions of him in full Colonel mode through MC's pov, but what about when he’s alone with his own thoughts at 4am in the morning? That’s the Caleb I’m trying to uncover here. Enjoy 🩶

© 2025, Caleb Database. All rights reserved. Do not translate or post anywhere.

Caleb is met with pitch black as his eyes split open, skin damp with cold sweat, the Toring Chip working overtime to temper his emotions. He bolts up from his sheets like a spooked animal, fighting to distinguish reality from dreamscape.

Shaky, calloused fingers reach for his tag out of instinct only to graze his collarbone. He’s reminded that it's no longer in his possession and hadn’t been for a long time.

Caleb drops his head forward as he clings to that last perfect image he had of his adopted sister all grown up, right outside their childhood home. He tries to overwrite his haunting memory of nearly being consumed in flames with the stubborn jut of her chin and those bright determined eyes flashing at him just seconds before the incident.

“You can’t protect me forever.”

When she held his gaze and spoke her truth aloud, Caleb had some choice words to say in response. But he bit his tongue instead, conceded to her as he always had. 

And now? Things were different, and he’d be handling business on his own terms.

Thinking back, he wouldn’t have hesitated to forfeit Josephine’s life again to shield his sister completely from the blast. Although losing the woman who raised them no doubt caused the girl grief, there was nothing he would’ve done differently because she came out of it in one piece.

In his brief coma that followed, there wasn’t a second that went by where his subconscious thoughts weren’t filled with her. It was like he was watching an endless loop of their childhood memories bleeding together behind his heavy eyelids.

Some memories felt like home and others didn’t belong– white walls stained with red, endless syringes, the stench of death lingering in the air.

By the time he awoke on his deathbed, he was barely able to make sense of Lucius’ offer in exchange for his survival. In spite of his broken body, he found that he couldn’t quite let go. Not yet. 

In his most tumultuous moments, the common thread of devotion that tethered him to her always remained true.  

Relinquishing his freedom to the Ever Group for a chance at power to keep her safe was the easiest choice to make in his life. And now, he could make himself even more useful, redirecting Ever’s attention off her by molding himself into the ideal vessel for the conglomerate's most groundbreaking project in the works.

Once a pilot in training, he resigned to forfeit his life to the infinite darkness within the Deep Space tunnel. Now having returned to the cosmos that nearly swallowed him whole as the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel, he’d find a way to conquer it.

Caleb fights to steel himself, eyes narrowing in the dark as he kneads his throat. It’s dry and scratchy like he had been talking in his sleep again. Probably screaming. Luckily for him, the dense steel walls that made up his living quarters on the FSCV-01 were soundproof. 

Nightmares always left him disoriented beyond belief upon waking. He should’ve felt relief once he broke out of his dreamscape, but he doesn’t, not entirely. It’s not often he experiences fear while awake, but the effects of his dreams still linger in his nerves. 

Terror is an insidious thing, never failing to discriminate his state of consciousness to impose itself on him.

It made a home in his marrow, housed there since his childhood, festering from endless days spent in laboratories and surgical rooms that seemed like a blur.

He once felt trapped in loss and grief— a seemingly endless cycle when she would reappear in front of him after each experiment as if she were just meeting him for the first time. 

It’s a phenomenon that only occurs when she’s involved. A sensation exacerbated beyond belief by the mere thought of losing the only soul who affirms his miserable existence. An existence that grows more numb by the day...

Suddenly, the Toring chip finally feels like it’s doing its job to regulate his pulse. He breathes easier, but just barely.

Caleb spares a glance over his shoulder; the faint white glow of his alarm clock indicates that it’s just past four in the morning.

It would be unproductive to force himself back to sleep despite feeling like he’s gotten zero rest. By 0600 the starship would reach a point in their voyage that branches off into several different pathways, all marked for exploration.

A seemingly standard mission disguised as a trap set by the fleet’s old guard. Nothing to overly concern himself with aside from guarding his life with vigilance. He'd see to it that the mission would be completed regardless.

‘Just get moving.’

Caleb reaches for a thin silver remote on his bedside table and taps it. When he moves to stand, the floor feels like ice penetrating the soles of his feet but it wakes him up a fair bit.

A massive panel of smooth frosted glass flickers to reveal the inky cosmos swirling with glowing stardust as the starship continues on its set path through the Deep Space Tunnel. Filtered low light fills his otherwise dark room, slightly brightening the space for him to walk through with ease.

The bathroom lights activate to reveal his blurred reflection in the mirror. Ignoring it, he leans over to run the faucet and gathers a handful of frigid water to soothe his throat.

He washes away the sleep from his eyes before flicking droplets from his fingers. When he’s ready to face the state of himself, he lifts his head, bracing his hands on either side of the polished sink.

Dark amethyst eyes bore back at him briefly before they traced down to his bare collarbone. Unkempt tendrils of dark hair are plastered to his cheekbones and curl around the base of his neck.

Caleb hadn’t bothered to cut his hair since the day he was nearly wiped off the face of the earth. Guess he was lucky to still have a full head of hair in the first place after an explosion like that.

A wet sheen of perspiration coating his upper body just confirms his dire need for a routine cold shower.

He wastes no time in shedding his loose black sweatpants and turning the water temperature dial to cold before stepping under the rainfall shower.

Water pelts part of his skin like shards but it briefly soothes the throbbing behind his eyes. Beneath the spray of water, he flexes his right hand absentmindedly, the limb completely numb...

A small but mighty fist raps insistently at the wooden bathroom door. “Caleb you’re taking forever, quit hogging all the hot water!” He rolls his eyes at her insistence but quickly rinses suds from his hair. “I’m taking a cold shower, dummy, and it’s only been five minutes–” “Liar, it’s been twenty!” “Seriously, stop trying to barge in,” his voice drones over the splashing of water. He smirks when his accusation earns an affronted gasp from the younger girl. It's more than easy to picture her cute features scrunched in disgust. “Ew! I am not trying to barge in!”

Caleb scoffs as water trickles into his lashes, then the scene shifts imperceptibly. A sudsy head of hair suddenly leans into his touch, that familiar delicate slope of shoulders tight beneath his fingertips. Tense from combat training and in need of his usual service, he presumes– until she intentionally presses back against him.

Caleb nearly jumps out of his skin, blinking water out of his eyes, and realizes he’s staring at the smooth white wall.

Oh. A flicker of a daydream first thing in the morning was not a good sign. 

Guilt forms in a thick knot within his throat. He releases a sharp breath and pumps body wash into his palm before roughly scrubbing down. Of course, these memories choose to plague him this morning, of all mornings.

Maybe he should have just slid back into bed, endured the nightmares, and allowed his alarm clock to wake him up an hour from now.

Still, his mind threatened to linger there in the comfort of familiarity. Similar to how dark vines used to the shadows twist across a slab of stone warmed by the sun. Nostalgia had a way of suspending him in reverie more than he should’ve allowed. 

Within a few minutes, Caleb emerges from the bathroom with a towel tucked around his waist and icy breath. A double tap on the remote shifts the lighting to something more ambient, subtly revealing streamlined furnishings dipped in black and lustrous silver.

Everything in his quarters was impersonal from the lack of decor on the walls down to the missing photos of a certain someone that belonged on his bedside table. The kitchenette tucked away in the corner was seldom used except to brew coffee when he required a jolt of energy. It’d been a long time since he cooked anything.

The reality was that he only slept and ate on these excursions in rare stints; typical of his schedule even when he was a mere cadet.

Still, if the ruthless girl plaguing his daydreams caught wind of his slacking, his culinary skills would be under scrutiny– but it was futile wish to even entertain.

His hand waves across the air, revealing the luminescence of her hologram portrait. He's only half aware of how his shoulders unwind as he takes in her smile, the perfect balance of amiability and professionalism. So unlike the brat he raised. Caleb’s gaze softens, a rare sight these days.

The girl’s eyes lacked the gleam they once held, her gaze steeled from her experiences. That practiced smile of hers didn't fool him. She looked far from jaded but he could tell she'd been through it.

He had let her go through it all alone.

Would she resent him if she ever discovered he’d been alive all this time? Knowing he let her fend for herself?

Over the past year, he saved every piece of media he could get his hands on whenever she made the headlines as a Hunter. Soundbites of her voice, photos, and interview clips. Especially videos of her whereabouts outside of work, recorded by his private surveillance drones.

Nothing instilled more pride in his heart than seeing how far she’s come in her career. But the more she grows, the closer she gets to the truth…

Wherever whispers of an Aether Core begin, she would inevitably follow without realizing the dangers that lie ahead.

The hologram portrait disappears and dims his features as he drops his hand, fist clenching tight.

If she ever came within the vicinity of the fleet, he would resort to any and all methods to ensure her safety. No matter the cost. He made up his mind about it a long time ago. 

Caleb moves to retrieve the layers of garments that made up his uniform from his closet, slipping them over his taut muscles one by one. 

Black. Grey. Tie. More black. 

Caleb’s almost mindless as he fastens buttons and buckles in place, both human and synthetic skin efficiently hidden by a heavy garb that straightens his subordinate's spines when they lay eyes on it.

He’s worn a myriad of uniforms throughout his twenty-five years, but this was certainly the most prestigious one yet. Most people his age commonly experience bouts of impostor syndrome at an early point in their careers. 

Considering he was fast-tracked into this position by Ever’s influence, he should be the ultimate victim of it. And yet, he’s never wavered about his purpose since stepping foot into this role.

The first time Caleb wore this uniform, he embraced its suffocating weight knowing it would allow him to keep her safe in the only way he knew how.

Lucius silently circled the tall, dark-haired man, observing the way he donned the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel uniform as if he had done so for his entire life. Those who have worked to attain the rank of Colonel were often twice his age. He’d be an anomaly within the fleet, but it did not matter. There was nothing anybody could say or do to evict the new Colonel from his position. The uniform was flawlessly tailored to broad shoulders that would carry out Ever Group’s plans to infiltrate one of the many fleets to come.  Lucius was the kind of scientist who preferred to play to his experiment’s strengths and enhance them to the fullest. Selecting Caleb Xia for this task was a no-brainer for the Professor. Even he could recognize how the uniform conformed to Caleb’s brawn, making him appear more like an otherworldly entity than a pawn to be trifled with. Though, many would try.  The young man’s imposing stature, intelligence, and prowess as a pilot pointed him down this revered avenue of opportunity. Not to mention the underlying grit beneath that exterior of calm, stemming from his past as a child experiment. Whatever lies in his past may be a weakness to exploit later down the line, as needed. But above all, his gravity Evol rendered him practically untouchable. It was the sort of ability Ever lusted over, and now, they finally reclaimed one of two missing experiments they thought they’d lost in the Chronorift Catastrophe all those years ago. In due time they would obtain the other. Leading the simple life of a DAA pilot would have been a complete and utter waste of Caleb’s potential. Surely the boy can see it himself. With the best modifications and the Toring Chip’s influence, he’ll certainly give the fleet’s old guard a run for their money. The dogs may bitch and cry about it before being shipped off to Atley Island, but Caleb Xia will serve as a stark reminder of the power that Ever possesses across timelines.  A testament to Lucius’ great work– but their plan was still just beginning. Something twisted emanated from the Professor who merely inclined his chin towards the young Colonel. Caleb silently acknowledged that from here on out, he would be scrutinized by all from head to toe. He could hide nothing from his masters and enemies, one and the same. But he'd continue to hide it all from her, and if it came down to it, keep her hidden away from the world itself.

The metallic clinking of his regalia pulls Caleb out of the memory, his brows knit tight and that migraine back with a vengeance.

With a slow roll of his shoulders, a heft of gold chains brush against accents of maroon and navy. It settles across his chest, distinguishing him from the rest of his crew.

Pressed white trousers are swiftly tucked inside black leather boots that settle above his calves. A tactical holster containing his personal effects seamlessly clicks into place around his left thigh and his hip.

The Farspace Fleet’s insignia seems to sharpen beneath the overhead lights as he slides the hat into place. Black leather gloves cover up the last of his cold skin.

Caleb is already bound for the command bridge one and a half hours earlier than what's stated on his schedule. His crew will just have to learn to adapt to his time swiftly. 

The starship lurches violently, nearly knocking Caleb off his feet if he hadn’t half the mind to activate his Evol. The abrupt sensation reminds him of when he was trapped in his fighter jet in Deep Space and endured bouts of intense turbulence.

A different era entirely.

Obnoxious sirens swirl in flashes of red throughout the halls causing his head to pound even more incessantly. Caleb remains unfazed and continues to move forward.

Either it was interstellar turbulence or the attempts on his life had begun. If it's the latter, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s a target, nor the last.

At the his will, vantablack swirls split through the plane of space outside the paneled windows of the corridor. The strategically placed vortexes immediately influence the magnetic waves of FSCV-01’s flight path. For now, they'll stabilize the starship’s wild tremors until he can rule out the cause.

Caleb had a feeling he managed to execute something similar on a smaller scale while unconscious inside the belly of the Deep Space Tunnel years ago. Since entering the fleet, he's performed the skill countless times even as a cadet, and would always manage to smooth out the flight path of any vessel he was aboard.

Even without Ever Group pulling the strings for his promotion, the Farspace Fleet would have been stupid not to consider him an eventual candidate for Colonel.

At this point, Caleb was used to the universe's attempts to snuff him out of existence. Would a few extra power-hungry fleet dogs thrown into the mix make a difference?

Caleb fixes his stoic gaze ahead and continues to the brig, mentally shuffling through everything that could’ve gone wrong with the engine, personnel, or weather conditions. Whatever it may be, he'll ensure his starship’s return to Earth.

Because even now, light years away from his home planet, he feels an inexplicable ache within his chest.

Caleb knows he’s but a memory to her.

She’s already moved on. As for him?

He wouldn’t dream of it.

[nchant6dkitty]

Caleb's world stopped only twice. The first time was when  he died and the second, when you grew up and forgot about him. At twelve years, you stopped being able to communicate with him. He didn't understand why or how that happened. He wasn't just an imaginary friend like you thought. He was an actual ghost. You should be able to talk and see if him if you already did. Why did it have to stop now?. When you were getting closer?. Just when you were about to be a teenager and might need him the most.

Despite his initial hurt and confusion, he still stayed by your side everyday. He couldn't help but hope that you'd one day be able to see him. For things to go back to how they used to be. For your eyes to really see him and your warm smiles to be directed at him. For you to need him for being him once more.

Caleb who watched you grow into a teenager. Oh, how fast the time changes. Even though you couldn't see him or need him anymore. He still stuck to you like a shadow. Watching you,observing you during your daily life. He learned everything he could about you. Your new little quirks, habits, hobbies and the things you liked and didn't. His little pipsqueak was growing really well but he couldn't help the sadness that he felt for not being part of your growing little world anymore. He grew up silently by your side the realms of the unseen. A teenage ghost boy who lived with you and became like an older brother you needed.

Forgot your lunch or some of your books?  He always made sure to pack it  into your bag. Cleaning up your messy room and arranging the disorganized stuff when you were away or out.

He always made sure the fridge and the pantry had the snacks and the food supplies you needed. You always thought it was your parents who bought them so you never wondered about it. You fell asleep on the couch?. You'd find yourself waking up in bed the next morning. Couldn't find something you were looking for?. He used his abilities to bring the item out for you and you'd find it again the next moment you checked. You could've sworn it wasn't there before though but oh, well.

Caleb who felt proud that you studied hard but always wished you took it easy on yourself. You were always hard on yourself. Your perfectionist tendencies making you want to do your best but you also beat yourself up when you failed at something or did a mistake. Your overthinking mind haunting quite often and he wished you wouldn't do so too much.

He got worried when he started noticing how you sometimes didn't take care of yourself. You skipped meals, didn't sleep well enough or drink enough water. You either slept too much or too little, staying up late and being tired in the morning. You locked yourself up and stayed in your room longer, bed rotting whenever you could. He noticed your mood swings and your depression and anxiety you tried to cope with and conceal. He got angry when your parents called you lazy and scolded or said unkind words to you instead of supporting or trying to understand you and his heart ached when he watched how your mood worsened or how you silently cried about it. When he followed you outside, he noticed your social anxiety. By now, he could read you like an open book. Knowing how you felt even when you said nothing and could easily read your unspoken words.

Caleb scared off the first guy you brought home behind your parent's back. The boy avoided you or coming to your house after. Pretty sure, he thought your house was haunted. Well, he wasn't wrong either. He didn't like it when other guys tried to get too close. He made it his mission to get rid of the trashy boys  and fish out fake friends around you and succeeded. He was relieved when you made a few genuine friends who supported you though. At least they'd be more helpful than his invisible self who couldn't do much for you.

Ghost Caleb. Who couldn't help but notice how his attraction for you also grew as years passed and so did ache in his chest. How beautiful you'd grown to become and how other boys saw it too. If you could hear some of the things they whispered and talked about. Though some things he heard made him want to rip out the tongue of some of them and blind them for life. Such scum were not allowed within your circle or radius any day.

Caleb who one day walked through your walls to check up on you as usual, you had been your room for hours and he was shocked to walked in on you changing. You were in nothing but your underwear as you searched through the closet, singing the song you were playing aloud with your phone, oblivious to him as usual. He suddenly found time slowing down, his eyes taking in your exposed skin and body with wide eyes before he quickly teleported out. His face and ears flushed and heart hammering in his chest as he run his hand through his hair "Goddamn it, pipsqueak"

Ghost Caleb. Who couldn't help it when his gaze lingered on your curves,  falling in love with you silently as he stayed by your side. He craved the warmth of your body and your touch. Who missed you with every passing day. Even though you were always with him. Or rather- He was always with you. He missed you laughing and talking with him directly. He missed how you mentioned his name so warmly and held him close when you needed it. His world had become lonely. He became an unknown boy in your fast paced world. A boy who lost the person who made his bland life a little warmer and brighter. Why couldn't you see him?. Couldn't you see how much he needed you?. How much he ached for you? 

Ghost Caleb who comforted you on your bad days and whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you cried on the bedroom or bathroom floor, in bed silently at night . You couldn't hear him or feel him but at least he could do this much for you. He hoped his care for you would at least be felt even if he was invisible. He was like the voice in your head that whispered the encouraging words, the little gentle voice that helped you look on the positive side, to remind you that you weren't alone and pick yourself back up after breaking down and shedding tears. His heart ached when he noticed how your smile didn't reach your eyes sometimes, how you skillfully hid your pain behind a mask. How you easily hid your vulnerabilities from those around you.

Ghost Caleb. Who liked to touch you or hold you whenever he could. The only sign of you feeling his touch was the sudden shiver that run through your body and the sudden goosebumps on your skin. He cuddles with you and held you every time you slept, craving the warmth only you could give him.

Ghost Caleb who watched you with jealousy as you began dating stupid boys in highschool. He felt jealous of the pathetic boys you had a crush on or dated. They never deserved you or were never worthy of you. He did his best to ruin your dates at the beginning or when you brought them home. Sometimes he succeeded, other times what he did indirectly made you and those boys get closer. He couldn't help but feel euphoric when you broke up with them, but then felt guilty when he saw how crushed you become and hated how much you cried for them. He wanted to ruin the horrible exes  that made you cry and toss you aside. Those trash who cheated or played with your feelings. He followed you when you often went outside. Giving death glares to men who catcalled you on the streets. Playing tricks on boys who tried to approach you to stop them from coming near you. He'd make their pants fall down their feet, trip them when they approached, tie their shoelaces together and anything amusing he could think of. The more embarrassing, the better. And he mischievously enjoyed messing with them. He felt even better when such times could earn a laugh from you or when talked about those amusing incidents with your friends.

Part 2.!! Thanks for likes of the first part. This is my first time writing a ff here or sharing but I'll do my best. Feedback, re blogs and comments are appreciated. Thanks for reading and enjoy.

[moonlitbeth]

alrighty, let’s just take a deep breath and turn down the drama, because this is starting to feel like a kindergarten fight.

> coming after a fictional character is petty and just a clear sign that someone is still stuck in their edgy teenage phase. fandom witch hunts are pointless. they serve no purpose other than letting ppl dump their negativity on someone else.

> stop pointing fingers at specific mains when it fits you. liking any LI doesn’t define one’s intelligence or morality, real life doesn’t work that way. toxicity isn’t tied to a particular bunch of pixels, and a loud minority doesn’t speak for every other main. let’s not generalize.

> the latest takes on certain LIs being “planned earlier / earlier than another LI” and that’s why their content is more dynamic / faster-paced? baseless. that’s not how a big game dev operates (trust me). if anything, all LIs, including the 6th one, were conceptualized alongside OG3.

> if you’re mad, be mad at the company, not its players. the real issue here is poor user feedback management, an almost nonexistent roadmap (to the point we treat leaks as one), and missing BASE content for both Sylus and Caleb with the apparent imbalance in drop rates. that’s how corporate greed works — esp when dealing with a market monopoly.

> the “devs clearly have a favorite” narrative needs to die down.

and just fyi, this isn’t me saying we can’t be upset or disappointed (cuz i am, believe me). everyone deserves fair treatment, and both global and CN kittens have been pushing for that.

but let’s be real, we’re aiming our frustration at the wrong direction.

[ellealyssum]

come into my arms ✦ sylus x reader ✦ fluff/smut ✦ 1.6k words

It's almost unbelievable how much this man really loves pleasing you.

established relationship, v in p sex, creampie, unsafe sex, face sitting, dirty talk?, aftercare, fem!reader, not suitable for readers under 18

loosely inspired by sylus's upcoming "magnum opus" card because the tub in that bathroom would definitely seat two. he is the epitome of "i can do it myself/i know but let me" and i need him so bad. also i might do a chapter 2 for this if you guys like it! (however i fear this may be bad and it's been sitting in my drafts for several days help)

also on ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 You didn't really know what princess treatment entailed before you met Sylus. You'd been looking after yourself your whole life and the concept of other people doing things for you was strange at first. Sometimes it was just small things, like opening doors for you or picking up something you'd dropped. You'd thank him, a little pleasantly surprised, but it didn't strike you as anything unusual. Sylus seemed like a chivalrous man. You didn't even mind all that much when he insisted on paying for all your dates himself. You knew how disgustingly rich he was, and it was nice not to worry about affording things for once. But then you noticed how he'd buy you anything your gaze lingered on for more than five seconds, whether it be a chocolate bar or a pair of diamond earrings. And he kept picking you up and carrying you places when you were perfectly capable of walking all by yourself, thank you very much.

 "I know you're capable, kitten," he'd explained with a smirk. "I just happen to enjoy carrying you around." That's when you realised this man loved to please you. And he excelled at it in every possible way.

 Sex hadn't been something you'd had much experience with prior to your relationship with Sylus. It's not that you didn't like the idea of it, and you got yourself off plenty. You simply hadn't found someone you were comfortable exploring with. You didn't really know what you liked, and the thought of trusting someone enough to help you figure it out was daunting. But Sylus treated making you feel safe like it was his full-time job, and God was he good at it.

 A month ago you would have never imagined yourself gripping the headboard as you sat on Sylus's face, but now it was a common occurrence. You whimper at the way the bridge of his nose rubs against your clit as he fucks your swollen cunt with his tongue. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you firmly in place against his mouth. You can't help but grind against his face and his moan vibrates through your pussy. Your hand makes it's way down to fist in his hair, almost of it's own volition. "God, Sy, I'm gonna come," you whine, and he pulls you impossibly closer, encouraging you to let go. Your walls squeeze around his tongue as you come undone above him, thighs trembling as he licks up as much of your slick as he can.

 Tenderly, he helps you climb down his body to lay on his chest. His hard length nudges your thigh. "You taste good, kitten." He kisses you, rubbing his tongue along yours. You can taste yourself on his lips and it sends a delightful shiver down your spine. "Seems you agree with me." You roll your eyes at him, then yelp as he flips you over, laying you back with your head on the pillow.

 "You didn't think I was done with you, did you, sweetie?" You let him push your thighs apart and watch him stare at your sex. "I still need to fill your greedy cunt with something a little more substantial, wouldn't you agree?" Your answer is nothing but a whimper. Dirty talk was a recent discovery for the two of you, but the deliciously filthy words he uttered always turned you into a needy mess. "I can see you dripping, darling. Making a sticky mess of the bed." Two fingers stroke your labia and pull you open for him while another finger gathers up your wetness and pushes it inside you. You sigh and tighten around the digit. "Such a desperate little hole." You cry out when he adds another finger. "Listen to the noises my fingers are making inside of you. You're drenched." You can feel his breath on your exposed clit and the rhythmic squelching sounds that hit your ears have you groaning and arching your back. Pleasure surges through your body, making you feel heavy, sinking into the soft mattress. You reach down and grip his wrist, trying desperately to get him deeper inside of you. Sylus chuckles. "What do you want, love? Tell me."

 "You." You stare at him through half-lidded eyes.

 "You're going to need to be more specific, sweetie." He pulls his fingers out of you and you clench around nothing. "What do you want? My fingers?" He shows you the hand that had just been inside you, rubbing your wetness between his fingers.

 You shake your head, hair tangling against the pillow. "I want your cock."

 He rewards you with a devilish grin. "Where do you want it?"

 "Inside me." He raises an eyebrow at you. Your breasts heave along with your desperate pants. "In my pussy, Sy. Please."

 "Good girl." He strokes himself, coating his thick length with your slick. You feel his tip enter you, the slight stretch pleasant. "Still so tight, even after my fingers." You just nod, bringing your heels to his lower back, encouraging him to move. "So needy for me, princess." He leans down to kiss your breasts. "So perfect."

 He slides in slowly, letting you adjust. He's so big you can barely even think anymore, your mind so focused on the feel of him filling you up. You hear his voice as he starts to thrust. "You take me so well, pretty little pussy stretched around my fat cock." You look down and watch him slide in and out of you, coated in your wetness. "You want more, baby?" You nod eagerly, biting into your bottom lip. Your mind and body are chanting it like a prayer, moremoremoremoremore.

 He pulls out but you don't have time to complain because he's flipping you over and lifting your hips, pressing your tits into the bed as he moves a pillow beneath you. His fingers are leaving indents in your ass as he spreads you for him. He bottoms out in one swift move.

 He's so deep inside you. His cockhead kisses your cervix and drags across a spot that has you seeing stars. You feel his pace picking up, his balls slapping against your clit as his carefully crafted control recedes into nothingness. He's bent over you, breath on the back of your neck, rutting into you at a speed you can't even comprehend. You're vaguely aware that your mouth is open and you're drooling into the covers.

 "So messy for me. So beautiful. Gonna make a mess in your hot cunt. You want me to fill you up, huh?"

 "Yessssss." His words push you over the edge and you spasm around him. It's only a few seconds before he's sheathing himself fully inside you and you feel his cum, warm and thick, coating your walls in spurts.

 You don't know how long you lie there with him clinging to your back, dick softening inside you, slowly coming back to yourselves. He slides out of you with a groan and rubs your inner thighs affectionately. You can feel his spend leaking out of you and you twitch as he rubs some of the escaped fluid around your clit.

 "I love seeing you like this." He runs his big hands up and down your sides soothingly. "Thoroughly fucked and full of my cum." You mewl, satisfied and entirely worn out. "As much as I would like to stay here and admire you, my kitten needs some tender loving care." You let yourself be scooped up and carried the short distance to the bathroom. You doubt you could have walked there without wobbling around like a newborn giraffe, anyway. "Bath or shower?" Sylus asks as he gently sets you down on the tiled floor.

 "Hmm, bath." He kisses your forehead sweetly and leaves to fill the tub while you clean yourself up.

 He's bent over checking the water temperature when you're done. "I used the lavender bath salts you like." You take a deep breath in, the soothing scent filling your airways and clearing your mind. He sits in the almost-filled tub, arms out, beckoning you to join. You carefully slide in between his legs. The water is the perfect temperature and you relax easily, leaning back against Sylus's broad chest.    "Thank you, Sy."

 "It's the least I can do." He wraps his arms around your torso, holding you close.

 "I don't know how you do it."

 "Do what?"

 "Function after such an impressive... performance." You feel laughter rumble through his chest against your spine.    "Well, I have to take care of you, don't I?" You smile, knowing full-well that it was non-negotiable.

 "But I want to take care of you, too." He takes your hands, entwining his fingers with yours.

 "You already do, my love."

 "Hmm, one day I'll learn the secret to your stamina. Then I'll show you." The water covers your breasts now and you turn off the faucet.

 "My secret is you, sweetie." You shoot him an incredulous look over your shoulder. "It's true. Watching you enjoy yourself and come apart for me, knowing I'm the only person who gets to do that for you, makes me feel like I could run a whole damn marathon." It's almost unbelievable how much this man really loves pleasing you, but you suppose it sounds plausible enough.

 "You're letting the cat out of the bag, you know? Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine." He nuzzles into your shoulder, his familiar laugh gracing your ears. 

 "I'd love to see you try, kitten."

[j-helen]

"Your predator"

— Ты только поранишь себя, сопротивляясь, чтобы сохранить контроль. Твои руки уверенно сжимают шприц с оранжевой жидкостью. Словно раскалённая лава, густой наркотик переливается за стеклом. Ты никогда не чувствовала себя такой живой, как сейчас. Возможно, вколоть подобное «Хищнику» было глупой затеей, если не было расчета пострадать или умереть, но почему-то ты была уверена, что справишься. Ведь единственным желанием парня была ты.

— «Усилитель безумия?» Ты собираешься использовать его на мне? — Он скалится, пытаясь вырвать голову из твоих пальцев. Его голос непривычно хрипит и дрожит.

— Да. Как надзиратель, я должна знать, как подобное влияет на «Хищников». Лёгким и быстрым движением ты вводишь иглу в нежную кожу на шее мужчины. Пламенная жидкость быстро растворяется в крови, пуская по венам адреналин, а ты отточенным движением убираешь руку. Зейн задыхается и стонет от боли, ведь он ещё ни разу не терял контроль над собой.

— Прекрати себя сдерживать. Ты должен столкнуться с настоящим собой. Брюнет раздражённо выдыхает, сопротивляясь. Его спина выгибается, и ремень на груди лопается от натяжения и резкости. Настолько сильно он дёргается. Его сущность «монстра», коими считали обычные люди хищников, вырвалась наружу. Повезло, что парень остаётся прикованным к стулу.

Ты обходишь вокруг, изучая тело, а после садишься на колени, уверенная, что всё в порядке, в то время как «хищник» удивлённо вздыхает.

— Не волнуйся, я смогу позаботиться о тебе, — слова не успевают слететь с губ, как наглая ухмылка осаждает тебя. Этот парень совсем не похож на знакомого тебе Зейна. Разгоряченный, наглый и дерзкий. Или, может, ты просто не была знакома с этой его стороной?

— Ты хочешь, чтобы я подчинился… — резкий рывок, и чужие губы накрывают твои в голодном поцелуе. Это даже не страсть, это подобно чему-то первобытному, — но позволь мне сначала взять то, что я желаю больше всего. Зейн удерживает одной рукой тебя за голову, пока целует. Мокро и голодно, словно не может насытиться. Отрывается с выдохом. Не желает давать передышки, но твоя работа, если можно было это так назвать, еще не закончена.

— Где твой активатор? Или, правильнее сказать, деактиватор? — ты забавно хмуришься, активируя в своем снаряжении «поиск».

— Почему бы тебе… не потрогать меня и не найти самой? — шёпот оставляет совсем мало для полета фантазии, но всё же ты обязана проверить всё — по инструкции.

Твоя рука скользит по обнажённой груди, задевает холодные цепи, лишь усиливая ощущения. Ты пытаешься найти то, что тебе нужно. Его грудь вздымается и опускается от тяжёлого дыхания. Почти задыхается от твоих прикосновений. Это совсем не похоже на обыск, который ты предполагала. Ты осматриваешь и ощупываешь всё в пределах приличия, пока догадка не мелькает в голове — пах. Ты с недоверием отрываешь ладонь.

— И что дальше? — шепчет пленник. Проводит большим пальцем по твоей щеке, цепляя нижнюю губу и слегка оттягивая ее вниз.

Без лишних слов, кончики твоих пальцев очерчивают сосок и спускаются вниз к краю джинсов.

Он уже был твёрд.

— Не останавливайся, — эта лукавая усмешка, растянутая на аккуратных губах и лисий взгляд серых глаз заставляют кровь разогнаться по телу. Ты заводилась с каждой секундой, наслаждаясь тихими вздохами и стонами. Кажется, пытка пройдет немного в ином формате.

Подцепляешь пальцем ремень на его горле и тянешь на себя, но Зейн резко отпрянул назад, отворачивая голову на секунду.

— Впечатляет, — и вновь его довольная усмешка, которую хочется стереть.

Ты не успеваешь среагировать, ведь все происходит за считанные секунды, и лязг цепей оповещает о том, что пути назад нет.

Парень резко притягивает тебя к себе за талию, переворачиваясь и роняя вас обоих на пол. Хищник нависает над тобой, едва ли не касаясь своими губами твоих. Сердце бешено билось в груди, разгоняя адреналин по венам от происходящего только больше. Больше. Ты тоже хотела его всего.

— Сейчас у нас остается только одна вещь, которую нужно сделать, — От этих слов ком подступает к горлу.

Активатор находится здесь, — твоё колено достигает его паха, вначале мягко надавливая. Затем ты усиливаешь интенсивность и давление, заставляя Зейна почти болезненно сморщится. Терпение монстра улетучивалось с каждой секундой драгоценно утекающего времени.

Ты как будто находилась в другом мире и измерении, позволяя новым эмоциям унести тебя далеко-далеко, пусть и на короткое время.

Но у тебя есть выбор: ты можешь остаться с ним в этой клетке или уйти и больше никогда его не увидеть.

Парень издаёт утробный рык, который возвращает тебя к реальности, и оставляет пару лёгких укусов на шее, которые ты терпеливо переносишь. Он потирается о твое бедро твёрдым членом, пока крепкие руки задирают кожаную юбку. Пытают здесь тебя, а не его. Однозначно — жертвой стала ты.

Ваши губы встречаются в терзающем поцелуе; в нём нет и капли нежности. Хищник жаждет твоей крови, а ты позволяешь ему это, отвечая на его голод с преумножающей страстью. Это притяжение и сила, ввергающее суждение трезвое, что ни на есть, в чёрную тьму безрассудства.

Твоя чёрная форма трещит и разрывается, оголяя нежную молочную кожу.

Зейн отрывается, скользя рукой по внутренней части бедер, но его животную сторону не особо волнует насколько тебе комфортно. Впрочем, ты в полном порядке: это становится ясно по тому, как длинные пальцы собирают и размазывают смазку между твоих половых губ.

— Как же ты намокла. Будешь так хорошо принимать меня, — хриплый шёпот над ухом пропускает мурашки по твоей спине, а длинные чёрные волосы щекочут шею и щеки. Ты выгибаешься в спине и непроизвольно шире разводишь ноги, давая возможность монстру устроиться удобнее.

Внутри всё горит, и ты жмуришься, желая поскорее убрать ощущение пустоты внизу.

— Зейн, пожалуйста, — это похоже на мольбу, но Хищнику в таком состоянии повторять дважды не нужно. Его слух обострён, а заставлять ждать вас двоих он не желает. Ведь ты — способ его излечения, единственное подходящее лекарство.

Легкий скрип и вздох облегчения срываются с губ парня, когда он стягивает штаны. Член болезненно покраснел, а на головке образовалась капля предэякулята. Он дразняще касается твоего входа, который истекает смазкой, и скользит внутрь легко, слегка приоткрывая тебя. Острые ногти впиваются в его плечи, притягивая ближе. Ты сгорала: он подводил тебя к грани, но погибать ты желала только вместе с ним.

Плавный толчок заполняет тебя, выбивая все мысли из головы, и вы оба замираете. Зейн даёт время привыкнуть, а ты немного ёрзаешь, ища нужный угол. Стон срывается с губ прежде чем ты успеваешь понять, насколько он глубоко, насколько вы единое целое. Ухмылка расцветает на губах «монстра», которую ты упускаешь из вида. Зейн толкается бёдрами, с силой прижимая тебя к себе.

— Раз ты решила остаться в клетке, ты не сможешь уйти когда тебе вздумается.

Ты никуда от него не уйдёшь.

[vibinsanemoved]

CAVIER LUMIERE

[xinnn6]

filing this away for later.. anything with "zayne" and "dry humping" makes me feral

exclusive tutorial ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 4.5k words ✧.* friends to lovers summary: you ask zayne to teach you how to kiss warnings!: messy kissing, dry humping, fingering, zayne cums in his pants lol, touch starved!zayne note: this came to me in a dream. im kidding. im just horny for pathetic zayne note2: part 2 is here

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

Zayne is in his office reviewing a recent surgery when you come barging into his office one Friday afternoon.

Windswept and pink-cheeked, you look radiant and it takes a few moments of blinking away the lingering text printed on his vision for him to realise you’re speaking.

“Did you hear me?” You sound…nervous, almost, which is out of character for someone who routinely interrupts his working day to sit in his office and drop bagel crumbs all over his carpet. Your eyes drift around the room, flying over his features for a beat before you’re looking away again, and it’s intoxicating, for some reason, to see you shy around him. Usually he’s the one who’s hesitant, too weary to blur the line between your friendship and the depraved, desperate thoughts he has about you when he’s alone in his apartment.

There’s a well-buried part of Zayne that chooses to file away that coy expression on your face for such a moment.

Glancing back to the screen of his computer, he continues typing, correctly assuming you will fall into your regular pattern and plop yourself on his desk any moment now.

It takes you three seconds to do exactly that as he speaks, “No, I didn’t. It’s almost as if I’m working right now,”

One of his favourite things to do is tease you, to have your nose scrunch in annoyance when he plays dumb on purpose, or when he pretends he doesn’t want you around. The secret he keeps locked up tight is that he wants you near him all the time, his hands itch with it. He notices you stick your tongue out at him from the corner of his eye, and he has to suppress the twitch of his lips. You’re back to your old self for only a moment before you seem to remember what it is you wanted to ask him.

“I have a date,”

It’s not a question, though it doesn’t really matter. The corner of Zayne’s brain that, eons ago, would have demanded he hammer his fists on his chest or pee on the desk to assert dominance takes over for a millisecond as he files through a dozen different scenarios which all seem wildly inappropriate for the news he’s just received. As usual, he manages to tame his base urges when it comes to you, and he nods, calm and cool as a cucumber.

Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve dated. Zayne has known you since he was eight, and you were six. It’s not like he hasn’t witnessed this before; for a long time the concept of you with other boys never bothered him. At least not until the two of you hit puberty and he started taking note of all the ways in which you were different; softer, sweeter, prettier. Since then, it’s been a part of your friendship he likes to ignore.

Except when you force him to confront it, that is.

“Very good,” He speaks around a sudden tightness in his throat, feigning sarcasm if only to distract by the sudden grip of panic on his chest, “I’m thrilled you decided to come to my place of work to inform me,”

“Zayne,” The way you whine his name has his thighs tensing under the desk, and he really wishes you wouldn’t do that. He mentally files that away for later too.

He sighs softly, taking his hands away from the keyboard and turning his body just enough so that you know you have his complete attention. As if you don’t have it all the time anyway.

“What is it?”

“I have a date,”

His hand clenches, “I heard,”

Inhaling deeply, you let out a breath like you’re about to confess something. The soft, pink flush on your cheeks deepens slightly and you start doing that thing again where you look anywhere but at him, “I wanted to ask if you would help me with something,”

“Anything,” He says, because it’s true. He almost wants to wince at how desperate to please you he is, but as usual, he stays neutral.

“I…ahh,” You bite your lip, and another year is shaved off of Zayne’s life, “I wanted to ask if you would teach me…hosjskkss,”

He frowns as you trail off, speaking the rest into your chest as you tilt your head down. Your cheeks are glowing pink now.

“What was that?”

“Teachmehowtokiss,” You respond, lifting your head slightly but still refusing to look at him, not that it matters. Zayne is convinced his physical form no longer exists and he’s now a pile of ash and glasses on the desk chair.

He swallows hard, needing the extra moisture in his mouth, speaking in the monotone of someone who’s just had a major brain injury, “You want me to teach you how to kiss,”

It takes a couple seconds, but you nod before squeaking and covering your face with your hands, speaking muffled through the sleeves of your hoodie, “I’ve never…ugh! This is so embarrassing. Maybe I should ask Caleb- “

“I’ll do it,” Zayne speaks so fast he almost leaps forward over the desk to stop the rest of that sentence from leaving your lips. He is selfish, and clearly has no regard for his own mental state, but like hell is he gonna let Caleb put his grubby paws on you.

You meet his gaze with wide, impossibly pretty eyes, and something throbs deep in Zayne’s gut. He thinks he might do just about anything to keep you looking at him like that.

“You mean it? You don’t think it’ll be…” You shrug, “weird?”

Weird is the last word Zayne would use to describe how kissing you would be, but he can’t think of any others right now, so he just shakes his head.

“It’ll be fine,” His voice is scratchy, and he clears it twice, just to have the words coming out sounding the same, “I get off work at seven. You can come over, or we could…”

He’s unsure where exactly you want to do this, but the prospect of kissing you in his office and then driving home with his cock hard as steel sounds unappealing.

“I’ll come over,” You say, voice a little dazed and your cheeks still pink, “see you later, Zayne,”

There’s a good few seconds between when you knock on Zayne’s door to when he opens it that you’re almost positive you’ve made a mistake.

Because really, what were you thinking? Second only to Caleb, Zayne is your oldest friend, and now you’re probably going to implode the friendship by locking lips with him. Of course, there’s no guarantee that you’ll have to actually kiss him to learn how to kiss, but it’s implied. And the implication is enough to have your stomach in knots.

Maybe Caleb would have been the better choice; a little more laid back, less likely to make a big deal out of the whole thing. Not that Zayne would hold it over you, or anything. The reason you’d asked him, stupidly, was because he’s a doctor. He’s good at removing emotions from certain situations. As if that matters at all…you swear it made sense in your head at the time, but now as Zayne swings open the door wearing a grey sweater and black sweatpants, you wonder if running is an option.

“Hey,” He says, his expression giving nothing away about whether or not he feels as awkward as you do. Sweat gathers at the base of your spine as you step inside, unconsciously inhaling that expensive cologne he wears; woodsy and addictive. He smells like a hot, rich man - which he is. Rich, anyway.

You’ve never really thought of Zayne as hot, more…devastatingly handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you think of princes in fairy tales, or the hot guys you see in k-dramas or something.

He closes the door and stands in the entryway, watching you from behind his glasses with a slight tilt to his head, “You okay?”

“Great. Never better,” You sound like an idiot, and you sweat again when Zayne’s lips tip up into a soft smile, his eyes getting that far away, dreamy look that makes you feel like a teenager around her crush.

Which obviously you’re not…you don’t have a crush, and you’re twenty-five.

Twenty-five and yet you still don’t know how to kiss.

Zayne takes your jacket, and like usual, you sit on the sofa, pulling your legs under you as you watch him move around the kitchen. He opens a cabinet, pulls out two glasses and brings them over, along with your usual bottle of wine. It’s tradition, routine, almost, and yet it makes you feel warm. Your stomach dips as he strolls over, so…big.

How had you never noticed how large he was? Sure, you noticed but you’ve never noticed. His build is large and yet he doesn’t appear bulky beneath his sweater, his collarbones jut just above the neckline and for an insane moment, your fingers tingle with the urge to touch them.

You stuff your hands beneath your thigh and keep them sandwiched there, unsure what to do with them for the time being.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Zayne asks, his voice soft as if always is, and for a second you forget all about the kissing lesson and just enjoy the company of your friend.

“Um, sure,”

He shifts a little, lips downturned before his eyes dart away, “Unless you wanted to get straight to the- “

“The movie is good for now,” You smile probably a little too widely at him, and you wonder if you look insane.

He levels you with a look, as if he sees through you, and it makes you want to squirm under his gaze, “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, ___,”

He looks away before you do, moving to pour you a glass of red wine and you take it eagerly, as if it’s a lifeline. Surely after a glass you’ll feel a little less…like this. Jittery, achy, sweaty - as if there’s a thousand little feathers brushing your skin every time he glances your way.

This has never happened before, this awkward energy. With Zayne you’ve always felt safe, relaxed, and you never had to worry about whether or not your hair looks good, or if you have spinach in your teeth. He has always been a comfort blanket for you, but now with the thoughts of kissing on your mind, you can’t seem to relax. Your brain files through all the scenarios it can generate; will he kiss you soft? Slow? Will he put his hands on your face, or your waist, or in your hair? What does he normally do when he kisses women?

“When is the date?” Zayne asks, not looking at you and instead focusing on the tv, trying to find something mindless for the two of you to watch before you begin. His voice sounds scratchy, as if he’s coming down with something, but you get distracted once the movie starts and he sits back against the sofa, turning to look at you with an unreadable expression.

“Tomorrow night,” You reply. It’s a co-worker who asked you, a nice, good-looking guy who works in the office above yours. He offered to take you for food and it’s been so long since you dated, Simone convinced you to say yes, “We’re just getting food,”

Zayne nods, though he doesn’t look away, “So you’re already planning to kiss him? He must be quite the catch,” That odd look is still there in the depths of his eyes - moss green with a hint of amber.

“Wh- uh, yeah. Maybe, I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down into your wine, “I just think that it’s kinda embarrassing that I haven’t kissed anyone yet,”

“Nothing about you is embarrassing,” He replies so fast it catches you off guard, and when you glance up at him, the tips of his ears have gone pink. There’s a tension in his shoulders as he looks at you, almost easy to miss if you didn’t know him so well.

The two of you sink into a comfortable silence after that, both watching the movie and laughing when the girl on the plane starts insulting the air steward. After a while you’ve relaxed somewhat, only one glass into the wine, you’re back to your factory settings, awkwardness gone as you slouch into the sofa, your shoulder pressed against Zayne’s.

It’s when the character on the screen kisses the love interest before the credits roll that you remember why you came. You lift your head from where it had fallen against the sofa and you turn to find Zayne already looking at you, that strange look on his face again. Your lips roll inward as you look at him, your eyes flitting unwillingly from his mouth and back again twice before you look away, embarrassed.

Zayne’s hand reaches out to grasp yours, and his voice is rumbly and warm when he speaks, “Do you want to go?”

“No,” You swing your head around to face him, almost too fast, “I…ah, I’m just nervous,”

He keeps watching you for a moment longer before he shifts, turning so he’s facing you fully on the sofa, “It’s only me,”

“Yeah, but I’ve never kissed you,”

“You said you’ve never kissed anyone,” He tilts his head again, “Why don’t you take the lead? I’ll stay here like this,”

He remains still, not rigid, but relaxed. More relaxed than you feel as you mimic his posture, turning so you’re fully facing him. He’s backlit by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the golden summer sunset, and you feel an unfamiliar dip in your stomach again.

He’s watching you, cheeks a little rosy from the wine, and his lips are stained to match. You linger on them for a moment, licking the red wine taste off your own and wondering briefly if he will taste like you. You must be taking too long, because he shifts again, and a pillow finds its way into his lap. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and you feel as if you’re exposed.

The way Zayne is looking at you is nothing like any of the other times you’ve noticed him staring; his jaw is tense, eyes darting all over your face, he almost looks quietly angry, but you know that can’t be it.

“____?”

“Sorry,” You exhale softly, shuffling so you’re on your knees. It’s better this way - now you’re eye-to-eye with Zayne, though it makes that feeling in your stomach even worse.

Before you can think otherwise, you place your hands on his shoulders, briefly noting the way they tense and then relax. You mean to lean forward, but Zayne’s eyes have you feeling like a mouse caught in a trap

“Can you close your eyes?” You ask, and his lips twitch, but he does as you ask, his eyes sliding closed. His black lashes fan along his cheekbones, and you almost want to sigh wistfully - he really is handsome.

The second attempt is more successful without Zayne’s intense gaze, and you lean toward him, moving until your noses bump together and Zayne exhales softly against your lips.

There’s a sharp, warm press in your lower stomach, as if your body is just now realising what you’re doing. The feel of Zayne’s soft breaths against your lips is maddening; you’re hot all over, and it’s sudden, out of nowhere. The hands on his shoulder’s clench as your fingers dig in, and before you can chicken out, you’re pressing your lips to his.

He is going to explode, or come, either way it’s taking every ounce of restraint Zayne has to let you take the lead, to get used to him and this new, terrifying step in your friendship. His stomach drops like he’s on a rollercoaster, hands clenched over the pillow hiding his obvious erection that reared its head the moment he saw your pupils dilate.

Your lips are soft, warm as you press gently against him. He wishes kissing with his eyes open was socially acceptable because he hates that he can’t see you, that he can’t get a front row seat of you on his couch, hands gripping his shoulders, lips against his. For a long moment, you don’t move, you just stay like this, and Zayne can’t bring himself to complain. But, you tilt your head slightly, pushing your lips against his harder, and he feels his cock twitch impatiently.

Inexperience isn’t usually something that turns him on - frankly, the idea of deflowering someone has him coming out in a rash. It’s not that he thinks he’s bad at kissing, or sex, but the expectations put upon him are dizzying. He wants to make this kiss good for you, even while an animal part of him thrashes against its restraints, begging him to ruin you for any other man. His hands fist against the pillow in his crotch, and when you pull away, he almost groans at the loss of contact.

Zayne is the first to open his eyes, just a second before you, but it’s enough. Your lips aren’t well-kissed, not by his standards, but he can spot the signs of arousal a mile away. Your cheeks are flushed a gorgeous shade of pink, your lips even deeper, and when you let your tongue dart out to wet them just before opening your eyes, he feels a sharp punch of need deep in his stomach.

You exhale shakily against his lips, and he can feel his restraint fraying at the seams. He wants you so badly he feels as if he could come just from the way you’re gazing blearily at his lips, as if you’re drunk on him. It’s a maddening rush to his ego, to see you so undone after barely kissing him, and he can’t stop himself from lifting a hand, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb along your lower lip.

“Was that okay?” You ask him, voice thick with something he is too chicken-shit to name, for fear that he will actually pick you up and fuck you into his couch.

He swallows hard, licking the taste of your lip balm off his lips, “Y-yeah. It was,”

This is it, he thinks, this is all you wanted from him, and it’s more than enough. More than he ever expected when it came to you. Even a chaste, soft kiss is enough to give him material to jerk off to for the rest of the year like the desperate man you’ve turned him into. But the tender, hesitancy of the moment lasts only a few seconds before you speak again, obliterating his final shred of sanity.

“Can we do it again?”

He should say no. You have a date planned, you’re his best friend in the whole world, and he made peace long ago with the fact he was destined to want you from afar. The unrequited nature of his feelings and his desires have always been somewhat safe for him, something he can use to control himself around you, but to hear you ask him for more of his lips on yours awakens something hot and vicious in his gut.

He doesn’t really reply, too dumbstruck to speak, and you gaze up at him with dark eyes, dangerously eager eyes, your voice barely above a whisper, “Will you kiss me this time? Like you do with other women?”

The mere thought of it has the tip of his cock growing slick, need curling in his stomach, worming its way around the base of his spine as he tenses. But, he’s not as strong as he thought he was, because within two seconds he’s nodding, leaning in and groaning all in one breath, his lips catching yours in a real kiss. Your hands fist the material of his sweater, tugging him closer, and he loses it, brain splattered against his skull. Now, there is only you and him and this pulsing desire he has to tuck you against his body and make you feel just how bad he’s wanted you.

His hands find your soft waist, palming the dip and clutching hard enough for your t-shirt to rise up a little. The sliver of skin brushing against his pinky does insane things to his psyche, and he pulls you, knocking away the pillow in his lap and pressing you there instead. You gasp into his mouth and he wants to snarl into the kiss, wants to make you understand.

Do you feel how bad I need you? Can you feel how hot and hard and aching I am?

Your body is like heaven in his arms, and he suddenly realises he could die happy now, knowing intimately how the weight of you feels in his lap, pressing against his cock, knees on either side of his hips. A soft moan against his lips has him bucking up against you, thankful for your choice to wear a skirt so he has access to the warmest, wettest part of you instantly. He yearns, needs and wants like he’s never wanted anything. He wants to rake his nails up your thighs, push aside your underwear and run his fingers through the mess he hopes he’ll find there. The mess he put there, he realises, and he growls into the kiss at the thought.

“Zayne,” You whimper, whining like you did earlier in his office, and he can’t help but smile at the sound. He’s fucked his own hand to your voice more times than he wants to admit, and now he leaks against his sweatpants, drunk on the way you’re babbling in his arms, your lips wet from his spit and is tongue as it laves them, eagerly asking entrance into your mouth.

“Open for me, beautiful. Open your mouth for me,” Zayne’s voice is almost unrecognisable to his own ears, a soft, firm rumble. When you do as he asks, he lets his hands drift down to your hips, pushing and pulling you along the ridge in his pants as his tongue brushes yours.

It’s messy, and you’re not sure what you’re doing, that much is evident, but it doesn’t even matter. He wants every inch of you messy over him, wants to keep this lesson going until you leave his apartment with the knowledge of how Zayne kisses you, and no one else. He wants you to be as gone for him as he is for you, as he always has been.

You’re lost on him now, hips moving of their own accord, and Zayne thinks that if he can make you come, he will take that as his greatest accomplishment in life. Forget med school, forget every surgery he completed that others failed. All he cares about is the sounds falling from your lips, the way your fingers have threaded through his hair, the fact his apartment is filled with the sounds of your kisses, of your panting breaths, his deep groans as you rock against him. Nothing else matters.

His name falls from your lips again, like you’re asking for something, but you don’t know what. He pulls away from your slick, swollen lips only to run his tongue up your neck, relishing in the way you tremble against him.

“What is it, ___? What do you need?” He rasps against your ear, “You need me to make you come?”

You nod eagerly, clutching him tight enough that he feels flames roaring up his spine. He isn’t gonna last much longer with you riding him like this, and like hell is he gonna come without taking care of you first.

“Okay,” He breathes, winded and totally out of his depth. He’s never lost control like this, never had his hands shake with it, but he takes a deep, steadying breath, “Okay,”

His hand brushes your thigh and you sigh, the sound falling into a moan as you continue to roll your hips in circles, so hard that Zayne’s eyes roll back before he grips your skin, pushing up your skirt until he finds the spot he wants. You gasp, breath ragged where you kiss and lick his jaw, and he groans deep in his throat when he finds just what he’d hoped for.

“So fucking wet,” He murmurs, dazed and drunk off of you, “You got this wet from me kissing you, huh?” He knows damn well he was doing more than just kiss you, but he doesn’t correct himself. Instead, he palms your damp underwear, pressing against the material so he can feel the contours of your pussy. He uses his fingers to push the material aside, mouth watering when he drags his fingers through the center of you, “God, fuck,”

“Please,” You whisper, “Please, please -”

“Shh, beautiful,” He presses a soft kiss to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, a polar opposite to the kisses he’d given you a moment ago, “I’ve got you, okay? Does it hurt?” He doesn’t know why he asks, maybe because he’s so hard beneath you that he’s beginning to see double.

“So bad,” You sob into his shoulder, rocking your hips against his fingers as he continues to explore you, avoiding the spot where you need him and just enjoying the wet, silky, warmth of you. When you whisper again, so soft he barely hears you begging him, he smiles, out of his mind with it. He wants you to beg, and so he fucks his fingers into your soft, pliant pussy until you cry out. “Oh, god! Oh, please, please - t-there, yes. Yes -”

“Holy fuck,” He murmurs as you tighten up on him, squeezing so hard he can hear the wet squelch as he attempts to carry on thrusting his middle and ring fingers into you, eager to feel it. He blearily wonders what you would feel like coming on his cock before he loses the battle against his oncoming orgasm, coming wetly against the material of his sweatpants. “Oh fuck, shit,”

You’re still shaking when he pulls his fingers out of you, your head laying on his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed the room get darker as the sun finally set, but now the two of you are alone in the glow of the tv, still stuck and waiting on the netflix homepage. The only sound in the room is your collective breathing, soft pants as you catch your breaths.

Zayne’s mind clears once the cloud of lust dissipates, and he feels a cold stab of fear deep in the centre of his chest. He’s ruined it, he thinks, he’s lost you forever. You’re going to leave and it’s going to be awkward, and why couldn’t he just keep his damn hands off of you -

“Zayne?” You whisper, breath ghosting over his collarbones.

He audibly swallows, closing his eyes in preparation for the words. We shouldn’t have done that, this was a mistake…

“Yes?”

You shuffle against him, like maybe your foot is falling to sleep in the awkward position you’re in, but you make no effort to move. When you do speak, your voice is shy, if a little hoarse, but oh, so sweet.

“You’re a really good kisser,”

The cold icy dread Zayne had been waiting in cracks, and warm seeps in. He huffs a laugh, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to your hair.

[ley0615]

Rafayel came home at the worst time ever

I'm already broke, and while he did come home 18 pulls early, I can no longer scrape up enough to get my guaranteed Xavier😭

[iz-star]

[WIP]

"You can sleep for a bit longer. You don't need to wake up early..."

Master of Fate spoilers ahead:

Okay, we already know that things at the end of Master of Fate's myth don't end up quite well but can we talk about what happens in "Forest's Breeze"? The devs definitely f*cking knew what they were doing by leaving that card at the very end, because what better way of breaking our hearts surprising us than letting us know that once we all know that Zayne and MC don't end up together at the end of the myth, we get to listen to that card and discover that they promised of always being together and made love right after that?! LIKE COME ON I WANNA SCREAM.

Also it's not specified but it's quite probable that what happens in Forest's Breeze is located short after what happens in both 5 stars cards so Zayne and MC were already together in the myth (no wonder why Zayne joked about "The person you're destined to be with is stoic and not very affectionate"). Let's not even talk about what happens in Forest's Slumber because in there MC again made Zayne to promise not to leave her, in this myth she was really clingy and afraid of being left behind and there are several ocassions that she shows it. Zayne knew it and we all know that he wasn't willing to leave her and even if it's not clarified, he probably was still there with her, the only little detail is that she wasn't able to see and hear him anymore at the end of the myth and it's all just so... tragic and frustrating. Zayne will be there for her for all eternity, that's for sure, but they simply can't stay together and he's always willing to sacrifice his own happiness and own well being so that he can ensure she'll be safe, pretty much what happened with Foreseer too.

The PV of the myth really fooled me cause I truly thought for a moment that this myth wouldn't be sad. The same as with Foreseer's myth, it has left me with a feeling of emptiness and unfullfilment. So I'll be drawing a lot of fanart of them between comms ahaha. I'll be quite slow tho cause I can't draw as much as I'd like but I have to fill the void somehow ;~ ;

At least the chapters of the event story were genuinely sweet, Dr Zayne made me feel better with his sweet words so at least there's that. I hope nothing bad happens to him in the future ahaha or either I'm going to riot.