#love and deepspace x reader

[sleepy-little-stars]

andy speaks: smth about zayne being asian parents' dream ... isnt he so dreamy sighs

the first time your parents heard of zayne, you didn’t really drop his name. you just mentioned during a casual family dinner that you’ve been going out with this absurdly handsome doctor who somehow makes you forget how to form full sentences.

in usual fashion, your parents were impressed. then came the questions. what kind of doctor is he? what area does he specialize in? how old is he?

the next time they heard of zayne was during your birthday. unfortunately, he wasn’t able to attend dinner because of an emergency surgery. if it wasn’t so urgent, he definitely would’ve been there. to make up for it, he sent a bouquet of your favorite flowers—he remembered, of course—and a custom bracelet with delicate jasmine charms, your initials quietly engraved on the back.

happy birthday, my love — z.

your mom raised an eyebrow at the note. your dad just muttered something about "setting the bar too damn high.”

it was enough to make you smile. one your parents noticed and it made them more curious about your mysterious man. (another thing they didn’t know was zayne was that he did make it up to you later that night. only this time, what he gave you couldn’t be worn.)

the third time they heard of zayne was when they finally got a name and a face to the man who makes their daughter happy.

zayne got an off day. you told him it’s fine if you two just stayed home and relaxed but he insisted on meeting your family. it was no issue to your parents when arranging a dinner last minute. in fact, they were ecstatic.

when you arrived, their jaws dropped in disbelief. this is who you were dating? doctor zayne li? as in, chubby cheeks, bowl-cut little zayne from your childhood who you used to drag around the neighborhood?

that little zayne who grew up to be such a fine man.

it seems like they have nothing to worry about. turns out, the hands saving lives in the operating room are the same ones holding yours.

[thalwri]

LOOK AT HER B☆TT!

STARRING: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb x reader

synopsis: you decide to be a bit of a tease to your boyfriend(s) and give them a good little peek. but you're freaks. of course it'll be more than just that. they'll always make sure you finish what you start. and if you can't, don't worry, they can take care of it for you!

warnings: porn no plot, backshots, inappropriate use of evol, super hard boners, masturbation, spanking, bathtub sex, public sex, cockwarming, dry humping, cunnilingus, panty fucking, choking, your men are just nasty freaks for you.

wc: 5.4k in total, roughly 1000 per li

an: happy belated birthday, @jadestone2!! here's one of the gifties i have for you <3. hope you all enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

XAVIER

There’s never a day where Xavier doesn’t believe the moments he wakes up from his naps aren’t blessings hidden as disruptions. 

Last week, he woke up to see you watering his plants looking like a cute bunny in one of his many hoodies. Two days ago he woke up to you halfway through placing a pillow beneath his head because he somehow landed up sleeping on the floor.

Today, he woke up to you cooking lunch for both of you. In nothing but one of his old sweaters.

It’s a particularly short sweater, even for him. The way it rides up your curves each time you reach for the cabinet hypnotises him. It’s like he’s in a trance, the way he hops off the couch —  bedhead and all — and stalks slowly behind you like a predator about to catch his prey.

Though, in this case, he is technically your prey. 

The outfit was a deliberate move from you. You had planned it the moment you realised he was asleep on the couch. You decided that instead of waking him like you usually would to teach him how to cook without burning the apartment down, you’d instead give him a surprise to wake up to. 

You blame ovulation, you just haven’t gotten to spend that much time with him since you’re both so so busy. Your fingers and vibrator definitely weren’t enough to substitute for the immense pleasure he gives you. Why not give him a little treat?

Xavier can feel himself throbbing in his pants by the time he reaches the kitchen. He doesn’t even have to glance down to know that his length is poking hard against his sweatpants forming a large tent. Judging from how the pulsation and heat down there is growing by the second, he’s definitely leaking precum from his slit.

His mouth waters at the sight of you simply humming to yourself while you chop away at the vegetables on the cutting board. Each and everything you do brings his cock to an almost painful throb.

The way your ass looks so soft and plush and barely hidden beneath his sweater— his sweater— boils deep in his core, so deep that all the blood rushing straight to his cock gets him lightheaded. 

His hands start grabbing the air in state of being half-sleepy half-horny for you. If you could just bend over just a little bit—

And you do. Fuck yes, you do.

You drop the your knife to the floor, quickly hopping on the spot to avoid the blade. In your eyes, you dodged a very sharp bullet. In Xavier’s, you just drove him deeper into his insatiable abyss of hunger for you.

The jump alone pushed the sweater up as far as your waist, revealing that delicious curve of your ass, your hip dips that he loves to lick and grip on, and your spine— fuck, he loves staring at your back.

“Oh my fuck,” You cuss under your breath and bend over to pick it up. The remaining blood in his brain is about to shoot out of his nose. He could cum on the spot. Being blessed with such a sight of your cunt openly greeting him makes his knees buckle. Drool is dripping from the corners of his mouth. Fuck.

Xavier has to fight the urge to just moan out loud from the sight alone. The way his cock keeps bouncing inside his sweats rubbing his tip against the fabric doesn’t make the situation any easier for him. He’s glued to the spot, hypnotised, enamoured, pussy drunk before he even gets a taste of you.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” He mutters under his breath. Not even a blink later Xavier finds himself on his knees right behind you— he teleported because he was mentally stuck to the ground. 

You obviously sense the change in the air, along with the new sense of warmth radiating right behind you.

“Xavier- oh.” You glance over your shoulder to find him nuzzling his head on your thighs, rambling incomprehensible words so fast you can barely catch on. A warm wet slither travels up your thighs and close to your core.

“Let me have a taste.” His whines. It would have been a command if it wasn’t for how high pitched his voice becomes each time he speaks. “Fuck, let me taste— please, let me taste."

Smiling to yourself, you sigh in relief that he finally woke up. “Of course, baby, take what you need.”

His mind snaps, shatters, splits into pieces—your affirmation is everything he needs to hear to plant his face between your cheeks and slither his tongue right into your cunt.

You both moan shamelessly from the contact, Xavier from tasting you and you from feeling you after so, so long. You hand immediately drops to his head to push him closer and closer, his hands fondling and squeezing your ass like a stress toy. It’s the only thing keeping him from stroking himself.

His hips jut up your leg in rhythm, bringing him to rut on you and spread his pre all over you through his soaked sweatpants.

“So good.” His muffled voice praises you. “You taste so good, fuck.” 

Your grip tightens on the soft tufts of his hair, burning hot into his scalp from his fingers reaching your bud of nerves. He circles, pinches, and rubs at your clit like he’s desperately trying to make you cum as quickly as possible.

“Xavier,” You whine, practically grinding on his face making his head bob in tandem with your needy ruts. “Need you inside.”

Literally anything you say can be a buzzword in his ears. Xavier shoots up to his feet, ignoring the dizziness that strikes his body in a flash to push his sweatpants down low enough for his cock to audibly slap his abdomen. 

His cock continuously bounces up and down, smacking his skin with his leaky tip to create a sticky string connecting his cock to his stomach. The lewd imagery is riveting, mind numbing, he can barely think straight. He doesn’t even notice you aligning his cock with your hand, stroking him while his brain goes dumb from desire.

“Snap out of it!” You hiss, practically losing balance from how much your pussy aches for him. “Xavier!”

A switch must have gone off to have him immediately slip inside until he bottomed out fully inside you. His arms wrap tight around your waist and he immediately ruts into you like he’s got a point to prove.

“‘M gonna make you feel real good, baby.” He groans, licking a wet stripe of spit up the length of your neck to your jaw. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

ZAYNE

Zayne can feel himself losing threads of his control. He can feel his cock beginning to strain against the confines of his slacks. 

All because you’re bending over to pick up a fork he dropped. 

It wasn’t on purpose, he swears. It was just that his hand slipped while he was talking to you. One long look at that beautiful face of yours, watching you laugh and his hand slips pushing the fork to the floor. He can’t help himself, he’s just so down bad when it comes to you.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to stand and reach to pick it up, despite him telling you it’s okay. What he really hadn’t seen coming was that you’d turn away from him and bend over, showing that you were barely wearing anything underneath your skirt.

And by barely, there was a very clear opening of the crotch area revealing your pussy to his eyes and his alone.

By the time you stand up straight, ice was creeping up his neck to cool his face down and reduce the blatant blush spreading across his face and ears. 

“You okay?” You ask as you place the fork back down by his plate. You fight the muscles on your face to keep yourself from grinning. Zayne only nods as if the ice has stiffened his neck.

You chuckle to yourself, he’s so cute. If it isn’t the sugar he relishes in consuming whenever he gets the chance, it’s how flustered he gets. Cheeks reddened, struggling to maintain eye contact… it’s all so cute until he starts to get back at you for putting him in that state.

You begin to turn away until his hand catches your wrist, grip cold and needy. Before you can even ask, you find yourself being tugged towards him, hearing the faint ruffle of his pants being unzipped and then the soft schlick of your cunt being stuffed by his cock.

“Not a sound.” His voice is cold as steel yet dripping with desire, holding you down tight by the waist to stop you from moving. You can just feel him twitching inside you. 

“I could’ve held back and waited until we reached the car but seeing you in that lace,” He adjusts, jutting his cock up deeper into you but not giving you the pleasure of fucking you good in the middle of the cafe. “Seeing that delicious pussy… you must be shameless.”

Feeling a slew of moans brimming at the back of your throat, you bite your lip hard enough to make it bleed just to hold yourself back. You wanted this the entire time but you didn’t expect it to happen this early. Not to mention literally sitting in a full cafe while cockwarming your lover.

If anything, the goal you had in mind was to get him riled up enough to humble you in his car. This, however, looks like it’ll be so much better.

“You’re getting so wet, my love.” Zayne whispers, feeling more at ease as his evol relaxes. His lips press hot kisses on the shell of your ear. His breath is hot on your skin and his once ice cold hands tighten their hold on your waist. “Is sitting on my cock in front of all these people turning you on?”

You won’t lie, it is turning on. You’re soaked through and through to the point where your arousal slick is dripping onto his pants. If it isn’t the way he’s teasing you in that hushed sexy voice of his, it’s his girthy length pulsating deep inside you.

Your walls involuntarily clench on him, making squelches loud enough for the couple in the booth behind you to hear. Zayne can feel his control slipping, feeling the plush of your ass so comfy on his lap, the way your pussy is just clamping tight on him— he just has to remind you to behave.

He raises your hips just a bit and slams you back down on his cock with a soft plap. You both have to swallow your noises of pleasure. Zayne can’t help himself but fondle your ass beneath your skirt, feeling that soft flesh that he loves so much.

“Zayne,” You whimper, feeling your core tighten in heat. “I need you.” There’s only so much discipline you have when it comes to cockwarming him— and being in a literal public space doesn’t make the matter any easier.

“Talk to me, darling.” Zayne murmurs, nudging your legs apart with his knee to grant himself access to your throbbing clit. Discreetly under the table, his fingers find your sensitive nub covered by sheer lace and gently rubs and teases you in cruel, rough circles.

“This is what you wanted, no?” He muses, now using two fingers to pinch and pull at your clit while his hips twitch into yours— a clear indicator of him being close. He would never admit it out loud, but the risk was turning him on too.

“After all that teasing, wearing those panties here for me to see, you didn’t think I’d give you just what you need?”

Before you can even muster a response, loud screams erupt around you followed by scrambles of people rushing to leave the cafe. You both snap out of your trance to see wanderers lurking outside the cafe and citizens rushing to escape.

Out of impulse, you move to stand up only to be held back down, deeper into Zayne’s length.

“Zayne, the—“

“Look, hunters have already been dispatched.”

You glance out the window to see a hoard of hunters already in battle against the wanderers, swiftly moving people out of the way. Mind still fuzzy from being stuffed, you ease back into his embrace.

“And since the cafe’s empty…” Zayne grins into your nape and presses a wet kiss on your skin. His hands roughly push your skirt high up your waist, relishing in the sight of your plump ass so close to him. 

He pumps his cock right into your cunt, shamelessly moaning into your ear as you whine from his ministrations. “Let’s take care of this needy pussy.”

RAFAYEL

He probably shouldn’t have asked you to join him in the bath.

Yes, you hadn’t seen him in a week, and yes the only time you could see him without disruption was coincidentally his bathing time. Buuuuuut… a little bath wouldn’t hurt, right?

WRONG! Rafayel can feel his cock rising beneath the water. He’s struggling to think. Look at you, reaching for the shampoo on the little side table next to the bath. Stretching so nice that he can watch droplets of water cascade down your spine and fall into the crack between your plump ass cheeks.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s seen you naked more than enough times to be well accustomed to seeing your posterior— he’s painted you like this more than fifty times. But this particular sight is something that not even paint can accurately capture.

He watches you spread your legs wider, exposing your core right to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck.” Rafayel curses under his breath. He wraps his hand wraps tight around his cock, slowly pumping his shaft beneath the water.

“What’s wrong?” You muse, wriggling your hips just enough to make your ass bounce and smack the water.

Just enough to tease him. Just enough to make him lose his patience, grab you by the hips and fuck you so good that half the water in the tub ends up splattered on the floor— along with a few other fluids.

You know just how much Rafayel loves your ass, plump and soft just for him to fondle and nibble on. You’d found paintings scattered around his studio and even more bound within his sketchbooks, all having a small note of his insatiable thirst for you.

Don’t get him started on the view he gets when he takes you from behind.

He’s shamelessly stroking his cock, feeling the heat of unbearable pleasure surge through his veins. He has a very strong feeling you know what you’re doing, rudely moving like that for him. Precum mixes with water and his breath goes heavy.

“Is it that hard to get shampoo?” He huffs in a huskier tone, one you easily recognise as him getting more aroused. “Can’t be that hard, cutie.”

“Can’t seem to reach it,” You deliberately whine, dramatically arching your back for the water to collide with your skin like a wave crashing with the shore. All that work and Rafayel just doesn’t seem to budge.

“Uh huh.” He’s in a daze. Eyes locked like glue on your ass, watching your sweet nectar start to drip from your core, almost as if your pussy could sense the rise of desire in his cock. You are his bride, after all. It’s only natural to share each other’s desires.

“Just— just keep trying.” His words slur as the sounds of his hand stroking his cock grow louder just enough for you to hear. “You’ll get it.”

The splashing and rhythmic pumps definitely catch your awareness, and that only irritates you more. Why isn’t he doing anything about it? You softly grunt and snatch the shampoo from the counter, ensuring you lean back directly above his crotch. 

“Got it!” You grin and glance over your shoulder. And my, my, my, is he a sight for sore eyes.

His cheeks are flushed redder than a tomato, his hand shamelessly jerks away at his length to pleasure himself while his eyes are locked on your ass.

“You were ignoring me on purpose!” You huff, hitting his face with water to catch his attention.

“Do you even know what you do to me when you act like this?” Rafayel releases his cock from his grip and holds your hips to align your pussy with his throbbing length. “I just had to wait for you to come back.”

You can feel your eyes twitching. “I wanted you to lean over me and fuck me senseless, Raf, why do you think I was taking so long?!” 

“Oh.” There he goes with that faux shock. “I thought you were just struggling. Wasn’t really surprised. But now that I know what you want…”

He swiftly pulls you onto him while raising his hips, filling you to the brim with his cock. He doesn’t waste any time to start snapping his hips to pound his cock as deep as it can possibly go— which isn’t that hard considering you’re soaked like a fucking sponge.

Your eyes roll as soon as he hits that delicious sensitive spot instantly, moans ripping from your throat to echo around his bathroom like a lewd symphony. His leaky cockhead continuously pokes that gummy spot as if it’s target practice. You can barely keep up with how hard he’s going, your balance keeps slipping from being half submerged with water despite the death grip you have on the edges of the tub.

“Rafa—“ Choke on your moans, practically hypnotised by the way the water moves with you, drenching you, him, and the floor completely. His thick length just stretches you out so so good you can barely think straight, your only ambition is to squeeze around him tight enough to memorise each vein— as if you haven’t already.

“Not— fuck— not gonna last long—“ Even better for you. You want to have him fill you up, that’s what you’ve been aching for the entire time.

“Don’t hold back,” You squeeze around his cock tighter forcing your walls to clench as hard as you can, stringing out a noise from his lips that sounds like a mix of a moan and a whimper. “Want you to cum deep inside.”

The water jumps out of the bathtub and up Rafayel’s thighs as your hips roll in tandem with his thrusts, landing a noisy slap of his sacks against your clit— only bringing you closer to unravel on his cock. 

The schlap schlap schlap of soaked skin colliding in an obscene tempo begins to create a symphony in his head that he forces himself to memorise. The pieces he could create from the sounds of your pleasure could make audiences break down into tears.

“Gonna fill you up good,” Rafayel muses right into your ear. “All that teasing… you deserve it, don’t you?”

You can barely speak from how hard you’re going, grinding your hips on his to chase your pleasure while bringing him to his own undoing. All you can do is nod, and that’s all the signal he needs to keep going.

And he won’t stop for a while.

SYLUS

You have no business bending down like that.

Especially not on his bed. In one of his many tailored shirts that barely cover your torso because it keeps slipping off your shoulder. Bending over his bed to reach for your book.

Why were you bending over in such a scandalous position? It’s simple, really. You threw your book off the bed in the midst of your cuddle/reading session because you read an unexpected plot twist. A very erotic plot twist.

Sylus had made a soft yet audible whine when you pried his hands off your waist but his little noises — which only you have the privilege of hearing — fell to silence when you crawled to the edge of the bed and leaned right over the edge, leaving the image of you straddling air for him to consume.

“Need help, sweetie?” Sylus muses as he watches your struggle, both amused and aroused. A very familiar hardening length is starting to push out of his robe’s parted front— and he conveniently decided not to wear anything apart from his robe tonight. 

“Nope.” You huff over your shoulder. The book is more than an arm’s length away— why did you throw it so aggressively? 

You’d been in that position for longer than you intended, fully absorbed on the goal of taking your book. What’s taking you so long was the fact that you are about to fall off the bed. Feeling gravity attempt to pull you to the floor (again), you swiftly wiggle your ass as you move your legs bit by bit to push you further into the bed.

All Sylus can see is the ricochet of your soft cheeks with each movement. It takes so much deep restraint to not crawl to you and bite your ass just for the fun of it. 

 But he’ll have to distract himself even if his eyes refuse to look away. “How’s the search going?”

“Terribly.” You huff— but it sounds more like a suppressed moan from stretching your body to abnormal lengths to reach for that damn book.

That just makes it worse for your poor kindred lover. His hard on reveals itself by pushing his robe out of the way— that’s just how strong his love and desire is for you when you unintentionally tempt him. Now imagine what happens when it’s deliberate. 

He doesn’t even try to touch himself, knowing the eventual slick noises will catch your attention. It’s becoming unbearable to watch you in the midst of your hunt, trying to keep his eyes on you when all he can see is your arched back accentuating the curve of your ass all while his length twitches and leaks in his peripheral. 

Each movement of your reaching forward or rebalancing yourself made your flesh jiggle. Every. Single. Movement. That plush, softness that he’d always grip on tight when you clench on him hard, or that he’d smack soft or hard when he aches to hear you moan so deep in his ear that it’s engraved into his every thought. 

When you move one more time, if you jiggle that ass one more time— and you eventually do— Sylus closes his eyes in blissful resignation. 

Fuck it.

Smack!

It’s been hours. Hours since he pounced on you.

His hand collides with your cheeks to watch that delicious, cock throbbing ricochet that makes him harder and harder than he’d like to admit.

You’re hours deep into him being deep inside you, still bent well over the edge of your bed with the only thing keeping you in place being his powerful grip on your hips.

“I feel like you did that on purpose.” Sylus purrs and pulls your hips flush against his to ensure you can feel the curve of his cock dive into your pussy with each powerful thrust. “You could’ve hopped off the bed— ffuck— and yet-“ smack! “You chose to be a tease instead.”

You can only respond with a giggle that sounded more like a moan. Blood is rushing to your head like a current, your hands grip the bedding to claw at every time he pounds your weeping pussy harder and harder just how you like it.

Was it intentional? Maybe.

In your defence, you did actually throw the book out of shock. You were about to simply hop off the bed to make it quick but you had stopped and came up with the idea to tease your lover. Just a little bit. You did neglect the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt that you wore and that the book made you wetter than you’d like to admit.

Another thing you underestimated was that Sylus is down horrendously bad for you. So down bad that seeing your pussy glisten in the dimmed lights while you’re bent over the edge of the bed would drive him mad. 

“Took— took you long enough!” You whined as a harder push of his hips almost threw your off the bed, bringing you closer to your edge (for the fifth time tonight). 

The position you are in is just too good. The bed’s already soaked through and through with cum from both of you that somehow managed to leak out of your hole while he’s been plowing you. Your skin is warm and sticky with sweat and slick adding extra deliciously maddening friction for every time your hips collide.

Sylus is grinding— no, rutting on your ass, moaning loud into your ear from how soft and cushy it feels, how your pussy literally swallows his cock and refuses to let him out. 

“Keep squeezing me like this and we’ll end up making a big mess, Kitten.” He seethes, bending over your body to lick the shell of your ear while his cock still ravages you, dragging through your gummy walls until its shape is ingrained in you.

“S-Sy!” You whine. You can feel yourself falling. At an instant, a gust of black and red mist swirls round your body and raises you both to keep you in place. 

“Relax, I got you.” That purr is more than enough to make you cum again. “I’m not done yet. You teased me with this pretty ass of yours.” Another smack! hits your skin— you’re sure it’ll leave a mark of his hand.

“I plan to make the most of it tonight.”

CALEB

He can literally smell your arousal in the air. 

It’s not even like you’re doing anything. He can just smell it. 

That sweet musk that he chases to inhale whenever he does your laundry. That delicious scent the snorts into his brain whenever his face is locked between your legs slurping up your slick to satiate his thirst that only you can provide. 

You aren’t doing anything. Just lying on the couch. Legs spread. Wearing as little as a crop top and one of his favourite panties. One that he’s definitely used for other purposes. 

Lying on the couch with a pillow underneath your abdomen to keep you comfy while you scroll away on your phone. Lying on the couch with your ass up in the air, panties bunching in to accentuate your curvaceous form.

You aren’t doing anything. And that’s the problem.

Your legs hang casually over his lap, directly above his crotch. You can literally feel his boner growing beneath you but you’re playing it off, pretending you don’t even notice. Pretending you don’t even notice the strain in his voice, the need brewing in his core like a pot boiling over onto the stove.

“D-Do you mind, uh—“ Caleb stops himself before a moan slips out from his lips. His knuckles are about to turn white from how hard he’s gripping the couch to stay in place. Anything to stop his hips from acting out of their own accord.

“Huh?” You stretch your legs right over his bulge, making sure you rub just enough to build up friction. You’re such a tease.

Caleb’s rendered speechless. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavy through his nostrils to gather some level of control. Jokes on him, that flew out the window the moment he saw your ass.

He can’t seem to stop staring at it. Seeing how you naturally get wet just from being within his proximity, how your slick coats your underwear and exaggerates the puff of your pussy lips especially when you’re horny, how he can literally smell it—

“Caleb?” 

His throat goes dry hearing his name leave your lips. Not even, he’s salivating. Literally dribbling from the mouth like he saw a meal after weeks of not eating. He might as well assume that is the case.

“Yeah?” He chokes out while forcing himself to pull his gaze away from your ass. What was he trying to ask earlier? “Oh— you mind moving your legs a bit? I need to stretch.”

“Stretch?” You innocently ask — but that grinch-like grin slapped on your face only widens. “You just sat down.”

That is just all the confirmation he needs to know you’re doing this intentionally. He sighs and grips your thigh. Tight.

“I’m going to turn over and eat you out through your panties if you don’t let me stand up.” 

You didn’t expect him to fold that quickly. Usually, when either of you play this teasing game, it can take up to hours for either of you to fold— be it literally grinding on each other or using subtle innuendoes. This time, he looks extra needy for you.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, wondering if he’s joking. He’s not. His eyes are practically turning another colour from all that arousal brimming deep within him, not to mention the his hard length raging in his pants.

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, gracing him with a Cheshire grin. Caleb doesn’t even bother speaking. He plants his face right onto your clothed cunt while the rest of his body follows suit, laying comfortably in a makeshift sniper position to eat your pussy until you soak the couch.

“Fuck yeah.” His breath is hot on your skin, prickling goosebumps all over your body. 

He can hear the squelching gush of your arousal spill out of your pussy like a bursting faucet. His tongue slurps up a taste of your desire through your panties, suckling as much of your taste through the fabric as he can.

He might ruin this pair of panties but he’s more than happy to take you out to buy replacements— just to ruin them later. 

Your taste is divine, heavenly. He could worship you every damn day if you ask him to. He’d do anything to drown in your taste, your scent, in you. It all just feels too good not to rut his cock on the bed like a dog in heat.

“Oh, fuck, Caleb,” You sigh into the cushion trapped between your arms, bucking your hips back for him to ravage you completely. No matter how many times either of you try to tease each other, nothing beats the satisfaction that comes from breaking.

The way his clothed cock just perfectly fit in the junction between the cushion and couch is mouth watering. Eating you out while the stimulation going off in his cock like alarms is more than enough to make him cum, but he’d never waste his seed on something that isn’t you.

Caleb reluctantly pulls his face away from your core and strokes himself while he aligns his cockhead with your sobbing cunt. “I think I’m gonna ruin these panties, baby.”

“No, they’re my favourite!” You whine at the feeling of his cock rubbing up and down your clothed cunt, the stimulation from how wet you are makes your back arch like a cat. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t worry,” You can practically hear the smile spread on his face as he leans over you to press his cockhead into your cunt, pushing his panty-covered tip inside. “I’ll just fuck your panties a little bit. Then I’ll give you just what you need.”

The mere heat of his tip throbbing inside you drives you into a lust-dazed frenzy. You hump your hips in tandem with his short, torturous thrust, relishing in his swallowed moans from how your soaked panties rub on him just right. 

“So tight,” He whines into your ear, arm slithering under your head to put you in a gentle headlock, just the way you like it. “Pussy’s so tight— fuck—“

Caleb’s arm slides between you to tug your panties to the side then slides his cock right inside, slow and deep. The tight fill just burns so good that you both make noises loud enough for anyone outside the house to hear. 

“This is so mmmuch better,” You smile into his arm. 

“Yeah?” The muscles of his biceps and triceps bulge as he tightens his headlock on you. You choke on your breath just as his cock starts to pound into your cunt, wet plaps from his hip smacking your ass sounding in the living room. “Good. We’re gonna stay like this. Nice ’n snug. Til neither of us can think."

a/n: this was so fun to write, LET ME BE FREAKY!

[rafayelscutiee]

a man who yearns is a man who EARNS.

[humanjarvis]

runner's high

synopsis: you and sylus play a game of cat and mouse.

tags: predator/prey, primal play, rough sex, sensory deprivation (blindfold), semi-public sex, established relationship, established kink, tracking (mephisto), begging, biting, licking, struggling, manhandling, marking, coming inside/breeding, light evol use, mocking, slight body worship, crying, destruction of public and possibly private property, a blink of aftercare and then fucking until dawn. some previously consented rules listed in italics throughout

pairing: sylus x fem reader (reader referred to as “girl”)

word count: 4.6k

a/n: i tried to tag everything, as you can see. this was nowhere near high priority on my calendar originally but i genuinely do think i need to practice writing smut

Linkon City is known for its nightlife. 

Bustling crowds flooding the streets, sweeping stragglers up in their revelry. Glittering neon signs stacked on top of each other, so garish that passersby never know where to look. Thumping bass and the piercing bleats of car horns, constant and deafening. 

The perfect place to run. The perfect place to blend in. 

Your feet ache as they thud erratically across the pavement. They take the lead in steering you tonight—your wide, unfocused eyes are much too busy playing lookout. 

Around every corner, you think you spot him. A tall frame, a steady gait, a knowing smirk on a chiseled face. 

Around every corner, you’re relieved to be mistaken. 

You’d started as soon as the sun had set. Blood pumping through your veins, heart racing as you threw wary glances over your shoulder. 20-minute head start. 

And oh, had you used it. Darting off in one direction, only to circle back and slink away in another. If you had any chance of making it through the night, you had to be everywhere and nowhere, all at once. 

Anxious pangs propel you forward, past streetlights and food stalls and closing shops. A baritone laugh—no, not him—and your gut roils with unease.

For just one second—all you can afford—you falter. 

To your left, the menswear store with the crooked mannequin out front. Didn’t you already pass it a while ago? 

Traitorous wisps of fatigue, unwelcome and insidious, lick at your stumbling heels. 

You’ve been out for too long. 

Quickening your pace, you scour the busy strip, looking for somewhere, anywhere, that you can rest for a moment. 

The simple dive bar at the end of the street fades into view like a desert oasis. When your eyes settle on its browning bricks, eroding walls, and the bright green sign that flickers like its life is near its end, you allow yourself to feel a glimmer of hope. 

When rowdy college students trickle out the doors and the sour scent of cheap beer wafts through the air, that hope only burns brighter. 

Never, even on his worst day, would he be caught dead in there. 

Relief soars in your chest. It’s perfect. 

The beer really was cheap, according to the yellowing menu on the counter in front of you. 

The bartender, young and heavily tattooed, nods in greeting. “What can I get you tonight?” 

You skim the limited options with disinterest. “Just a water, please.” 

“Not many people come here just for water. There’s a vending machine across the street, you know.” 

Smiling sweetly, you reach into your pocket. The bartender’s eyes bulge when you deposit a neatly packed wad of cash on the table. Take it with you—no buts. Use all of it if you have to. “Will that cover it?” 

“Coming right up,” she squeaks. 

As she whips around to grab a clean glass, stumbling over her own feet, you take the moment to survey the lackluster interior. A row of wobbly stools, mismatched posters on the walls, a pool table that looks like it’s seen better days. 

It’s hideous in here. And for you, right now, that’s beautiful. Your heart feels lighter already. 

Suddenly, a figure slides into the stool to your right. “Hey, you here by yourself?”

He’s a blond, lanky college-aged kid. Not too drunk, by the looks of it, which is better than the alternative. 

“I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” The answer is evasive, but not untrue. 

He leans back immediately. “Oh, sorry. I’m here with mine, too. I was just checking in on you—too many girls come here alone.” He shifts his eyes around. “It’s not the safest of places, you know.” 

But for you, at this moment, it is. “Well, thank you for checking. You’re very sweet.” 

“No problem. While I’m here, can I get you anything?” 

Smiling softly, you shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m not drinking tonight.” Just as the words leave you, the bartender slides your glass across the counter, not-so-discreetly palming the cash off the surface. 

The boy nods. And behind him, you swear you spot a flash of silver hair.

No. There was no way. No way in hell that he’d—

Glasses and a round nose. Not him. 

Relaxing your tensed shoulders, you breathe a sigh of relief. But all fantasies of this place as one of refuge dissipate. 

Nerves alight, you dig out your cell and spare a flighty glance at the lock screen. Phone on you at all times. 

Precious minutes have slipped through your fingers. You have to keep moving. 

Cursing, you down your water and hop off your stool. 

“That…was not a very long visit,” the boy says in obvious confusion. “You didn’t wanna stay for a while?” 

You grimace as you lay an apologetic hand on his shoulder. “I don’t really have a while right now. It was nice meeting you.” Then, with a slight tip of your head, you head for the back exit. 

The air has cooled since you were last outside. 

Rubbing your hands over your bare biceps, you shiver as you stalk forward, ready to vanish into the night once again. 

“You really should try harder, sweetie.” 

Your foot hovers mid-step. 

Behind you. To the left, somewhere. Not many more than a few paces. 

Slowly, you turn. 

Polished leather shoes are the first thing you see. Fitted slacks that swell at the thighs, a shining silver belt buckle, a dark button-up under an expertly tailored overcoat. 

His sharp face is illuminated in the warm streetlight.  

Attentive red eyes subtly check you for injuries. When he finds none, a self-satisfied grin spreads across his lips. 

He opens his mouth again. But before he can speak, you spin on your heels, nearly smacking straight into a passing couple. 

A full, sonorous laugh, rich and mocking, echoes between your retreating footsteps. 

You’re more than a little unnerved.

Sylus—infallible, inevitable Sylus—had stood there, still and smirking, while you ran from him like he was a monster. 

Why had he let you get away? 

Sweat beads at your hairline as you slip through crowded sidewalks, heart thumping as loud as the bass in the background. 

Wiping your brow, you stare longingly at the distant tree line, wishing you could take the chance and disappear into the woodland. But alas, stay inside the city limits. 

Frantic footfalls take you to a sparse street, the city’s soundtrack fading behind you. On your right is a modern train station—open, but deserted in the midnight slowdown. 

Your stomach starts to tighten from your constant movements. But with a determined shake of your head, you push forward. 

Until the unmistakable, eerily perfect call of a crow sounds from above. 

He’s right on top of you. 

“And no Mephisto,” you proposed, knowing full well he’d argue.

His scoff was immediate. “I don’t think so.” 

“But that’s not fair! I won’t even have a chance if you get to use him. I’ll be a sitting duck out there!”

“You won’t be out there at all if I don’t use him. I won’t risk your safety just so you can feel the thrill of evading me for a little longer.” 

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he caught your jaw in his hand. 

“This one is nonnegotiable, kitten. Mephisto stays.”

And now, his master is toying with you.

You should have negotiated. 

The flapping of wings sounds overhead. In a panic, you look back to the train station, weighing your options in your scattered mind. No public transit. 

You step toward it. 

No public transit. 

Another caw. Closer. 

No public transit. No public transit. No public transit. 

The rule blinks in your mind like a warning light as you disappear through sliding doors. 

Since you’ve been with him, you’ve been no stranger to luxury hotels. 

You don’t know why you fled to this one. Maybe it’s the familiarity—you’d stayed here twice before. But you’d never ventured up to the rooftop lounge. Not until tonight. 

Ducking under velvet ropes, you take in the lavish setup. Cocktail tables and plush seating decorate the space, with tea light candles and white floral arrangements scattered throughout. Someone’s hosting an event here. Soon, by the looks of it. 

Inching forward, you pass a sign painted in beautiful calligraphy. Tom & Katie’s Engagement Party! 

Tomorrow’s date, big and bold, sits underneath. 

You’ll be gone before then. In and out, without a trace. 

You’d chosen the roof for two reasons: one, if—when—he comes, you’ll be able to see him well in advance. And two, not even that incorrigible crow can sneak up on you now. 

Nodding shakily, you step to the center, your attention stolen by a small photo frame. 

A shift. An electric charge in the air.

A hand around your nape.

“Caught you.”

In an instant, you lurch forward, barely suppressing the blood-curdling scream that rises in your throat. His hand slips from your neck as you attempt to flee, only to splay across your heaving ribcage as he corrals your body flush against his. 

Cautious as he is, his grip is firm, unyielding. But that doesn’t mean you’ll just give up like this, fall limply in his arms without a fight. You truly are a caged kitten as you thrash in his grip—a flurry of fists and elbows flailing wildly in the air. You’re not sure a single hit lands.

The threat of conquest looms with each passing second. His strength is unimaginable, the way he swiftly pins your arms to your sides with only a few annoyed grunts, as if your perseverance were merely a nuisance to him. An obstacle for him to surmount. 

He restrains your limbs with just one hand, his thumb firmly encircling both forearms against your clenched belly. As he leans downward, excited breaths brushing the shell of your ear, something long and hard and familiar prods your lumbar spine. 

“Playing with cornered prey is…tedious.” The words are a flippant, smug purr. He’s a lion that’s returned from a fruitless hunt, only to find a lost fawn in its den. “I’d much rather you conserve your strength. You’ll need it.” 

Anger flares at his assumption. Baring your teeth, you thrash against him again, but his power quells all protest. And with the way he pulses behind you, you’ve only made him more eager to consummate his victory. 

His free hand returns to snake around your throat, petting your feverish skin with hungry affection. Chuckling deeply, he raises it just to your jaw, circling two tantalizing digits around your mouth. It’s crude. Mocking. But it’s the opening you need. 

Parting your lips, you let his fingers slide onto the pad of your tongue, closing around them with a servile moan. Then, with a sudden snap forward, you sink your teeth into his prone flesh, just enough to leave an angry red imprint. Immediately, a harsh rumble sounds in his chest, the rippling waves against your spine a beacon of hope in your heart. If you’re lucky, he’ll let you go. 

But where you pray Sylus will flinch, pull back, do anything that will give you space to breathe, he only pulls you impossibly closer, lifting your head with his wounded hand. 

His eyes gleam with wicked delight. He leans down, brushing his nose to yours, feigning a pout as he tightens his grip on your chin. “If this is how you show thanks for my mercy, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do when I get mean.”

A suppressed whimper. Another failed thrash. And Sylus sighs with false sympathy, pressing a lewd, lasting kiss to your scalding cheek. 

“You’re so nervous, sweetie. Anxious animals often calm themselves when their eyes are covered. I wonder if you’ll do the same?” 

The words have barely hit the air before you’re plunged into darkness. With strong arms still subduing you, a strip of fabric secures itself around your eyes, leaving you blind and vulnerable to his whims.

So much for no Evol. 

His skin is hot. He smells of spice and fading cologne. And when he whispers in your ear, asking you how you feel now, the tip of his tongue hits the roof of his mouth with a sinful crackle. As if he's drawing out his dominance. Savoring it. 

Before long, you’re being maneuvered in his hold. Gathered and hoisted. 

Confident footsteps rattle the rooftop. 

You’re falling. Something soft hits your back. By the divots between cushions, it’s the oversized sectional you'd seen before your world went dark. 

You feel around the plush fabric for his hard, unwavering body. You snarl when you come up short. “Take this off! Take it off.” 

Somewhere before you, he tuts. “I was going to take my time with you, sweetie. But if you insist…”

Nimble hands sweep down your body, tugging your pants off with practiced ease. A choked gasp leaves you at the sudden movement, the cold night air nipping at your bare legs. 

You swipe wildly at an invisible target. “You know that's not what I meant!” 

“You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands right now.” Amusement bleeds through his tone. “There’s a much better use for your current…situation.”

The unsettling weight of his Evol lands on your shoulders, pulling and laying you flat on your back. A quiet thud sounds on the stony floor. Several beats of silence. 

And then, a hot tongue swirling on the inside of your ankle, soft lips sucking on untouched skin. 

“Sylus,” you hiss, failing to jerk away thanks to the heavy hand on your calf. 

He only hums dismissively, set on continuing his journey upwards. Slowly, methodically, he trails open-mouthed kisses and teasing nibbles over your calves, your knees, your thighs, ghosting a feather-light peck on your clothed core when it comes within reach. Throbbing with need, you hold back a whine when he stays his course, his eager lips coming to mouth at your tense lower belly. 

A moment later, and his touch leaves your skin, the nighttime breeze chilling you in its place. There’s a clinking sound, a soft rustling below. For a moment, you fear abandonment. But when the cushions dip and your shirt is swiftly tugged off, you know he’s just getting started. 

You wonder how you look to him—helpless and quivering, protected only by thin strips of fabric you’re sure he’ll conquer next. You wish you didn’t have to imagine the hunger in his eyes.

The next time he looms over you, his bare legs brush yours. The heat from his chest flows into your hips as his tongue reunites with your prickling flesh, dipping into your navel with unabashed intent. 

He leaves a wicked trail over the center of your stomach, stopping only when he reaches the lace hem of your bra. You try to sit up, try to push off, but fall right back down when his mouth closes over your stiff nipple. 

A wanton moan escapes you as his tongue roves over your clothed left breast. The friction is teasing, taunting over the flimsy barrier. A glimpse of what you could have if you gave yourself to him. But until that moment, he’s a cautious predator, refusing to be fooled twice by his prey playing dead. 

He’s right to do so. You’re desperate now, flexing fingers tugging sharply at his thick hair. When you scratch at his scalp, he scoffs around your dampened cup, his hand lifting to give your right peak the same treatment: tugging, pinching, rolling it under his thumb, all while relentlessly hollowing his cheeks around your other breast. As you writhe in his steady hold, sharp teeth threaten your swollen bud, and you arch fully off the cushions, pushing yourself even further into his waiting mouth. 

A few more greedy sucks, and he releases you with a pop, giving your tender flesh a much needed reprieve. “Still a feisty little thing,” he murmurs, “but you have gotten calmer, wouldn’t you agree? When you’re like this, supple and breathless beneath me…I can finally savor my prey.” 

Searing lips steal yours in a claiming kiss. With gluttonous audacity, he swallows your squeal, and you can feel his smirk as he tries to lick into you. Coming to your senses, you clamp your mouth shut with stubborn shakes of your head, denying him the triumph of tasting you. For a moment, you think he’ll relent—until he snakes an arm around your hips and gropes your backside in his hand. 

The bruising touch makes your lips part in a startled gasp, and the small opening is enough for him. Without hesitation, he plunges into your mouth, massaging the smooth insides of your cheeks before tangling his tongue with your own. 

His fervor chips away at the foundations of your resolve—slowly, precisely, as if waiting for it to topple like a felled tree. You barely struggle against him. You barely can, with the way he lays claim to every inch of your mouth, suckling your tongue like it’s candy. He tastes like sin and wine, and you’re anything but clean. 

You don’t realize when you start panting below him, breathy whines spilling from your lips in a frenzy. But he swallows them all with undisguised avarice, letting you moan into his mouth like he plans to siphon your voice alongside your energy.

The waistband of his boxers brushes your hips as he shifts, and his thick, heavy length throbs against you. But you’re so drunk on him, so high on his flavor, that the feeling of fabric sliding down your legs is only a passing thought.

Stars burst behind your blindfold as he spears into you. 

You convulse almost immediately, gasping at the sudden intrusion. He’s so warm and rigid, you don’t know how he’s lasted this long—you can practically picture his swollen tip, dripping with milky fluid under his boxers as he crumbled your will before taking you. 

From the relieved, guttural grunts that fall with each pump inside, you know your imagination isn’t too far off. 

His eager forward thrusts awaken the last of your instinct to push, to act—like a lamb fighting for its last breaths in the maw of a wolf. Surging upwards, you reach blindly around him, bumping your chest against his as you scratch wildly at his back. Your nails drag down his heated skin, catching at his rippling muscles, but you don’t let up. 

He snarls into your ear. “Give me it. Give it to me—everything you have. Exhaust the last of your strength and let me claim you completely. When you’ve worn yourself out, I bet I’ll reach even deeper.” 

Your nails sink further as your walls clench around him, sucking him in despite your brain’s protests. 

He leans closer. His nose ghosts the shell of your ear. “You feel it, don’t you? Your body taking me in? That means your time is running out. This is your last chance to prove to me that this night ends with anything but my seed spilling into you.”

The threat makes your heart lurch—anticipation masked as fear. With waning energy, you give a resolute grunt and thread your fingers in his hair once more, pulling until he hisses at the sting. But all the while, he never slows his thrusts—reveling in your weakness, ensuring no escape. 

With every surge into your tightening walls, Sylus takes what he won from you—what he knew he’d win from the moment you said no public transit. You knew he knew. For just one second, your eyes had shifted downward. Your guilt was fleeting for such a bold lie, but it’d been enough—enough for him to know you. Enough for him to chase you here and trap you with his foresight.

And now, you pay the price. Your frantic pants slow. Your fingers slacken in his hair. You’re barely wriggling in his hold now. Each relentless pump inside you, testing your limits, kissing your furthest depths, molds you more and more into willful prey. Under the sweat-slicked blindfold, where his touch is your only concern, your racing heartbeat calms to a steady pulse. 

He knows as much, with the way his strained grunts have turned to drawn-out moans—the way he coos in the ear he’d just snarled in, praising how smart you are for handing yourself over to him. How beautiful your surrender is. 

It’s not long until you’ve melted in his arms, clinging desperately to him as the steady slaps of skin on skin echo in your ears. Weakly, you kiss the closest thing you feel—his chin, it seems—and adoration burns through his resulting chuckle. 

Reaching under you, he deftly unclasps your ruined bra, finally freeing your tender breasts. They follow his thrusts with aching bounces, your hard, sore nipples ricocheting off his chest.

He kisses you again, cupping your cheek below your blindfold, and you open for him instantly, keening quietly into him. The pitiful sound wins a groan from him, and he laps at your mouth a final time before pulling away, a string of mixed saliva snapping as he does.

Whimpering, you paw at his chest, wanting to follow but not knowing where to go. His only response is to smooth a hand over your furrowed brow before dropping it to the cushion below, bracing himself on your makeshift bed. 

He pulls out, leaving you cold and empty, and you nearly wail at the loss. 

And then, he snaps forward with otherworldly precision, his hot, pulsing length pistoning into you with devastating speed. Dots sparkle across your darkened vision, and the obscene slaps of his hilt on your flesh carry into the night. 

Your walls are gushing around him, likely staining the expensive sofa below, but you’re well past the point of propriety. 

As need builds in your core, you cinch your legs around his waist, all but gluing him to you. A growl rips from his throat at the pressure, and he swipes his tongue through your mouth, nipping at your swollen bottom lip before he speaks. 

“Is this,” he begins, gasping between scorching waves of pleasure, “another tactic of yours? You squeeze me like this until I black out and make your grand escape?”

The euphoric buzz in your brain delays your answer. 

Until he licks a long stripe up your neck, biting down where it meets your shoulder. His tongue swirls around the angry bruise, the wet sounds of his mouth on you mixing with the rapid echoes of you sucking him in. 

A whine bubbles in your throat as tears slip from your closed eyelids, their sticky heat pasting your blindfold to your skin. “No,” you cry. “No escaping. I don’t want to, I only want—I need it. You promised me. You promised me if I gave in, you’d…” Your voice breaks. You can’t bring yourself to say it, even as you beg for it. “I need it, Sylus. All of it. Please.” 

Mirth fills his husky laugh. “That wasn’t what you were saying earlier, sweetie. You were fighting me so valiantly—what changed?”

Another whine from you. 

He rumbles in amusement, reaching between your legs to roll your swollen bud under his thumb. When you gasp, he bites your slackened jaw, suckling on your sweat-sheened skin. “I could hear your heart beating out of your chest. But you were never afraid of me. You know better than to be afraid of me,” he growls, surging far into your fluttering walls for emphasis. “Then…did you like being caught? Did you like me overpowering you? Do you like falling apart around me, begging for me to fill you?”

You’re practically sniveling as you nod your head, agreeing faithfully to his every accusation. Your safeword is Elysium.

“Filthy girl. And here I was, thinking I was so mean for giving you exactly what you wanted.” 

A broken sob escapes you. Shame, exhaustion, his bruising pace inside you still not letting up. At this point, you’ll give him anything he asks for. “I wanted you to catch me,” you hiccup, clinging to his arm like your life depends on it. “I wanted it so bad. I wanted you to pin me down and I wanted to fight, a-and I wanted you to win because you’re just that strong. I…I wanted you to break me, and now I want you to finish. I want to feel you inside me, even when you’re not there.” 

For just this moment, you’re thankful for the blindfold, knowing you don’t have to see the way his eyes gleam. 

“Hm,” he drawls, kissing your eyelid through the fabric. “Works for me, kitten.” 

He dips his head to lash his tongue around your breast. Its naked peak blossoms to life at his touch, still remembering his earlier onslaught. 

At the same time, he hurries the hand between your legs, circling and tapping the twitching nub until chants of his name spill from your mouth. When whispers turn to screams, he tugs it firmly between two fingers, and a rainbow of stars explodes under your eyelids.

You seize and clench around him, lodging him in your quivering core as your body eagerly broadcasts your defeat. 

He pulses once, twice, buried to the hilt in your heat, before warm bursts coat your flexing walls. Slumping forward on top of you, he buries his head in your shoulder with a guttural groan. 

His scent surrounds you until you're not sure where he ends and you begin anymore. But it’s exactly what you asked for. By nature's orders, you're his.

Reassuring touches are exchanged as you both catch your breath, embracing in the moonlight with the stars as your witness. After a while, he lifts slightly off of you and gently unfastens your blindfold, and when you blink your swollen eyes open, the purpling marks and scratches on your slick bodies are the first thing you see. The second? The once pristine decorations that lay scattered across the rooftop, misshapen and covered in dust. 

The third is the worst of all: the impish, arrogant glint in his eyes, so brazen it sparks a petulant pang deep in your gut. Squinting furiously, you surge upward and attack his lips with yours, emboldened by your captor’s brashness.

Again and again he takes you—until the hazy pink beginnings of dawn threaten to expose the outcome of last night’s hunt.

When he carries you down the lobby’s staircase, sauntering coolly past disgruntled overnight staff, you can only bury your head in his shoulder, blocking your vision once more. 

It’s late afternoon when you rouse beside him, kicking him under the covers in retribution. “You never said anything about a blindfold.” 

Sighing sleepily, he turns to face you and hoists your leg over his hips, trapping it for its insolence. “And you never said anything about raking your kitten claws down my back, so I guess we’re even.” He shrugs. “I was improvising, sweetie—didn’t you enjoy it? You certainly seemed to when you were begging me to—”

“Okay, okay! You don’t have to go there.”

He coos. “But what if I want to?” 

“I don’t care what you want,” you grumble, flipping over with a huff when he allows you to wriggle free. “Just…go back to sleep. It’s still your bedtime.” 

A rich chuckle envelops you as you drift off again.

The next morning, a mailman drops a deep red envelope on a hotel reception desk. Inside it are a seven-figure check and a small greeting card, the diamond ring on its front stained in swooping black ink. 

To the happy couple.

[rafayelridesfisheatsfish]

New redeem codes for anyone who missed the live<333

Valid till July 20

[diyahatnight]

How they ask for sex

Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Caleb x gn!reader (Separately)

Warnings: Suggestive, sexual themes, established relationships, minors DNI, 18+

AN: Sorry if any of them are ooc.

Word count: 5.8k

Xavier

Xavier would be the type to tell you straight up, or at least hint at it. They wouldn’t be subtle hints either, he’d be straight up with his hints and make suggestive comments that on the surface don’t seem inappropriate, but most definitely are. Though before he ever gets to say anything, his body always speaks before his mouth.

You and Xavier were laid up in bed together, him behind you spooning you. He held you close to his body, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. He was holding you this close because—right before you both got into bed—you tried to kick him out of your apartment. As a joke, of course. But now he's making sure you can’t sneak away from him.

You assumed he was asleep while you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Initially, he was sleep, but he had an oh-so-delicious dream about you that woke him right on up. You felt him shift behind you and assuming he was now awake, you spoke to him.

“Are you okay baby?” You asked… but no response. You shrugged it off and continued to scroll on your phone. After a couple minutes, you felt him shift behind you once again, this time pulling you impossibly closer, like he was trying to get in your skin. Or… your clothes.

Xavier waited a bit before loosening his arms around your waist and trailing them lower, finally slipping his hands beneath your shirt. He then pressed his body against your own and that’s when you felt something hard press against your backside. Xavier was rock hard and he wasn’t hiding it, he wanted you to know so you’d do something about it.

“Xav-” You choked out, before he cut you off. “You know, Honey, I’m quite hungry right now, but there’s something specific I’d like to eat and i’m not sure if I can have it.”

Xavier didn’t wait for a response before he started to kiss your neck and caress your body underneath your shirt. You let out a soft hum and bathed in the feeling of his touches before speaking.

“And what exactly are you craving right now Xavie?” He paused his kisses for a moment, before sticking out his tongue and swiping a quick lick from your shoulder to your jawline, and then sucking the area for a bit to leave a nice pretty hickey.

“This food is one of a kind…” Xavier started as he nibbled on your shoulder. “There’s only one in the whole world, you can’t get it anywhere else.”

Xavier started to explain the food he was craving and he described you in explicit detail before saying, “And I’m afraid I need a taste of this food or my hunger won’t be subsided.”

You hummed once again and then softly said, “There’s definitely something we can do about that.” You felt Xavier’s smile on your shoulder and he let’s go of you before getting up and climbing over your body, moving you to lay on your back.

Xavier spreads your legs and settled between them, moving them to rest around his hips. He turned off your phone that’s been sitting there, replaying the same video over and over since he started, and he sat it on your night stand. He leaned down into your neck and whispered into your ear.

“I hope you’re prepared, Honey. Because it’s going to be a longgg night. I’m not letting you go until I’ve had my fill—again, and again." He said before attacking your neck.

Rafayel

I feel like Rafayel wouldn’t be the type to ask you straight up to smash. He’d be a little too flustered to say anything. He expects you to know when he wants to have you. You know him so well right? So read him like an open book. Rafayel is soooo obvious when he wants to have sex.

You and Rafayel went out on a date to the beach. He wanted to collect a bunch of seashells for you and make you something special. But after not even five minutes, the rain started pouring down.

You two were still a twenty-minute walk from your apartment, but you didn’t feel like listening to your fishy complain about walking in the rain. So, you suggested that you both stay at a nearby hotel for the night.

The nearest hotel was a three-minute walk, which he was fine with, even though he complained a bit. You paid for one hotel room for both of you, with one bed and Rafayel thought that this day couldn’t get any better.

After settling into the room, Rafayel told you, “Hey cutie, I’m going to take a quick shower.” He winked as he said it and made his way to the bathroom, hoping you’d follow him. Instead, you told him you’d be back. He turned to you with an offended look on his face.

“What do you mean, you’ll be back?” he asked as if you just told him you ruined one of his paintings.

“I’m just going to the store down the street to get us some clothes to sleep in, I won’t be gone for long.” You said with confusion evident in your voice and a tilt to your head.

For some odd reason he looked even more offended “So you’re saying that you don’t want to bathe with the love of your life?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, “Rafayel I did not say that.” You folded your arms, “Do you or do you not want warm clothes to sleep in?”

“Fine, hurry up.” He said as he shooed you off. You sighed as you walked out of the hotel door, closing it behind you. The two of you had just gotten here and he was already being a brat. He’s gonna get it when you get back.

After a bit, you returned to the hotel room with a bag of clothes and entered the bathroom. Rafayel was standing there in a towel, letting the shower water warm up.

“Took you long enough,” he said with his back turned to you. You rolled your eyes as you put the bag down and started to get undressed. “Rafayel, I was gone for five minutes.” Rafayel took off his towel and stepped into the shower, “Yeah five minutes too long.”

Rafayel watched you get undressed and then step into the shower with him. He turned his back towards you and grabbed a rag, putting soap in it, and began cleaning his body. He didn’t say a thing to you nor did he even offer to help clean your back. He’s usually sassy on the regular, but today in particular he’s being more bratty about simple things.

After the shower, the two of you stood in the hotel room in your towels. You offered to put lotion on Rafayel’s body and he declined. With a sigh, you tossed the lotion on the bed and approached him with your arms folded.

“Alright, what’s your problem Rafayel?” He folded his arms too and turned his head the other way. “I have no problem,” he said matter-of-factly.

Your arms unfolded, and you traced your hand down his torso while quietly speaking, “Come on, baby, you know I know you better than that.” Rafayel grabbed your wrist and guided it lower, letting you feel his hardness press insistently against his towel — practically begging to be let free.

“Well obviously you don’t know me enough, cutie,” he said as he turned his head back to you to watch your hand. You started to rub him a bit while he guided your hand.

“Aw, baby why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you said, while he let out soft sighs at the friction, simultaneously softly grinding his hardness against your hand.

“Well… now you know.” He said as he backed you up until you fell back onto the bed.

Zayne

Like Rafayel, Zayne doesn’t say anything at all. He usually just waits until you feel like you want to smash because he likes to please. But if he’s feeling extra needy and you’re not, you can tell by the way he gets super touchy. When he feels like it’s been a while since he bent you over, he’ll be a little extra clingy, like an extra shadow, but he’s subtle about it. He makes it just the perfect amount of obvious so you’d at least get the hint.

After a long day at work, Zayne returned home, putting all his stuff down, taking off his jacket, and slipping off his shoes. As he walked further into the house, he spotted you sitting on his couch watching TV and that brought a faint smile to his face.

The night prior, you had spent the night, and in the morning while he was getting ready for work, he suggested that you should spend the day at his house since you have the day off. He’d love to see your face first thing when he gets home, your face makes his day.

Zayne sat on the couch beside you, and before you could even turn and hug him, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair taking in your scent. He sat there for a minute just breathing you in like you were his lifeline —the very thing that kept him going. Oh, he loved your scent so much… It turned him on after a long day.

He sat there for a long while before you shifted and spoke, “You okay Zayne?” He didn’t respond immediately and lifted his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “Just fine.”

You shrugged it off and pointed to the kitchen, “Well, I made you dinner, you should go eat. It’s in the microwave.” He nodded to your words, before pressing a couple more kisses to your cheek and jawline before getting up.

He returned with the plate of food and sat beside you again, closer this time. He rested his hand on your thigh as he ate, slightly gripping the inner part every once in a while.

After he ate, he put the empty plate down on the coffee table and then brought your legs up to rest across his lap. He caressed and massaged your legs before speaking, “Must have had a long day, you need time to relax.”

You giggled. “Baby, I’ve been relaxing all day.” He hummed, “Mmm, as you should.” his words came out in almost a whisper.

Zayne’s eyes remained solely on those pretty legs of yours, his eyes sometimes trailing up the rest of your body. He continued to massage your legs until he felt your calf accidentally rub against his hardness. The feeling made him shudder and he abruptly stood up.

“I’m going to go shower,” he said, leaving before you could even say anything to him.

Thirty minutes later, he quietly returned, sneaking up behind you on the couch and wrapping his strong arms around your neck. He buried his head into your neck breathing in your scent once again — the sensation traveling straight down to his core.

He started to rub your shoulders, fighting everything in his being to trail his hands down your shirt and caress your chest. Instead, he settled with massaging your collar bones.

“Zayne are you sure you’re alright?” you asked him once again, you knew there was something wrong with him. Still, he didn't answer.

He started to kiss your neck and you felt the couch start to softly rock — he was grinding his hardness into the couch. Soft moans and sighs escaped him, right in your ear.

And finally, he let it out, with a soft audible moan, “Please… I need you so bad.”

Sylus

Would be the type to tell you straight up that he wants to fold you like a pretzel and make sweet, sweet love to you. But instead, he gets a thrill out of making you guess that he wants to smash, and then he twists the narrative and makes you beg for it instead.

There was a little festival going on and you and Sylus were out together. The two of you walked side by side while he watched you with a smirk pointed out different stalls. You wanted to buy little trinkets, play different games, try different foods, etc, etc. You were definitely in your element and that brought a smile to his face.

Even though it made him happy to see you happy, seeing you so giddy turned him on oh so much. It was so endearing, so much so that he was ready to take you to an alley and have his way with you there. But he decided that on this fine Saturday afternoon, he’ll keep it cute for the time being.

You had strayed away from him, trying one of the games at a stall and he approached you from behind, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching what you were doing over your shoulder.

“Having fun, Kitten?” He asked as his hand slightly squeezed your waist and he pulled you a little bit closer to him. He watched you nod your head as you played the game and that made him smile.

After you played the game, you showed him the prize that you won, it was a cute little cat plushy and you wanted to give it to him. He gladly took it from you, when he grabbed it his hand slightly grazed yours, and he realized that you were quite warm. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it.

“Your body temperature is quite high, would you like some ice cream?” he nodded to the ice cream stand not too far away. When you said yes he led you to the stand.

While in line at the ice cream stand, he let you order while he stood directly behind you. You felt him push his body up against you and you turned your head back at him.

“Sylus why are you so close?” You asked, your expression quizzical. He had a sly smirk on his face, “Whatever do you mean Kitten?” he said, but as he did so, he ground his hips against the cleft of your backside and he looked around like he was confused.

“Sylus what the hell-” “Your ice cream is ready.” He cut you off, pointing at the guy holding out your ice cream to you. You scowled at him, before accepting the ice cream from the guy and thanking him, then Sylus paid.

The two of you sat on a bench while you enjoyed your ice cream and he rested his hand on your inner thigh. You felt him keep his hand up every once in a while and you ignored it. Things go away when you ignore them— allegedly.

Sylus noticed that you had ice cream spilling down your forearm and instead of being a normal person and grabbed a napkin. He brought your forearm up to his mouth and sensually licked up the melted ice cream while holding eye contact.

You watched him with your mouth agape and your eyes widened when his lips sealed around the tip of your ring finger, to get the last bit of melted ice cream off. He also noticed the bit of ice cream you had on the corner of your mouth and he leaned in to lap that up too.

You popped him with your hand and he sat back with a smile, oh was he ready to eat you whole. But to his dismay, you turned your back on him, though his smile never faltered.

Later that evening, both of you returned to your apartment. He slipped off his shoes and watched you with a hungry gaze as you took off your jacket. Without warning he walked up to you, pinning you to the side of your couch. He started to kiss your neck, leaving a nice hickey.

“Do you know what I want to do right now, Kitten?” he asked, his breath hot against your shoulder. You shuddered at the feeling and spoke, “What is it Sylus?”

And that’s when he just let go and walked away to the kitchen to wash his hands. You were confused, you were so sure that you and him were about to get down and dirty on the couch, but he just… walked away? You followed him to the kitchen, closing the fridge door on him as he was about to grab a bottle of water after washing his hands.

“What the hell was that, Sylus?!” you scoffed. “What are you talking about?” he said seemingly unbothered. You frowned at him and folded your arms before speaking again. “You can’t just... do that and walk away.”

Sylus smirked when he heard you say that, and he slowly approached you, backing you up against the fridge. “What do you want from me, baby. Tell me, I’m all ears,” he said as his eyes raked over your face, he was ready to pounce, but he was waiting for you.

“Just… please Sylus, don’t do this to me,” you said, but in an instant, you were picked up and placed on the kitchen counter.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he started as he began to slide off your shirt. “You know closed mouths don’t get fed, Kitten.”

Caleb

I actually don’t know how Caleb would ask for sex. I feel like he’d say it straight up but he’d mainly wait for the natural progression of sex to happen. When he’s feeling needy, he’s going to kiss you like he needs you oh so desperately and then let everything else smooth sail. (I will be feeding into pantie sniffer Caleb allegations.)

Caleb was over at your apartment fixing a plumbing issue that you’ve been having for the past couple of days. Yeah, you could’ve fixed it yourself but you loved seeing Caleb play big provider man… it turned you on. So you saved something that he can fix, just so you can watch.

After fixing the plumbing issue, he came into your room to let you know that the issue has been solved, “Hey, Pip. The issue has been fixed, your sink should be working just fine now.”

Aw, he fixed it too fast, you were just wondering if you should go out there while he lies on his back, working under your sink and ride him, for moral support… of course.

You sat up off the bed with a sigh, “Thank you for your hard work Caleb, are you thirsty?” you said, as you got up and walked your way to the kitchen and he followed you.

“If you’re offering, then yeah — I am,” he said, all too giddy.

As you got to the kitchen, you opened the cabinet and reached for a glass. Caleb’s eyes locked on your midsection — the way your shirt slightly rose, exposing your pretty skin to his hungry gaze.

The shorts you wore sat low on your hips, and when your shirt lifted just a bit more, he caught a perfect glimpse of your panties.

Freshly worn panties… mmm perfect for a sniff, he thought. He knows you smell delish, good enough to eat. His mind started to drift, daydreaming, wondering if you’d let him smell your panties while they were on you.

His nose pressed against your mound getting a good whiff, while fighting the urge to lick. Oh, the things he would do for that right now.

“Earth to Caleb,” you called out to him, waving a hand in his face. “Oh sorry, Pip Squeak, I was just thinking about how… nice the sun is today,” he said, subtly angling himself so you wouldn’t notice he was completely hard from his daydream.

Curse those stupid tight pants he decided to wear today. He knows how much you like his butt, so when you called him to come fix your sink, he put on the tightest pair he owned to make it look extra plump for you.

You nodded at his response and poured both him and you a glass of apple juice. He took his with a quiet “thank you” and looked around awkwardly as he sipped it.

Then his eyes landed on you once again, and widened the moment he saw a drip of apple juice trickle down your face and chin. He swallowed hard holding back a moan at the sight and the way his hardness jumped in his pants.

He choked on his drink and immediately you turned to him, grabbing a napkin, putting down your drink, and cleaning his face. “Oh my gosh, Caleb are you okay?” you asked concerned as you cleaned juice off his face. All he did was nod in response.

“Let’s go shower, babe,” you said, as you led him to the bathroom by his arm. While in the bathroom you started the shower and then turned to Caleb to help him remove his clothes. He immediately stopped you and told you that he could take care of it.

You shrugged your shoulders and undressed yourself then hopped in the shower. After a couple of minutes, he joined you and you noticed that he was (attempting), to cover himself and you raised a brow.

“Why are you covering up? You act like I’ve never seen before,” you said with a smirk on your face. A pink hue dusted his cheeks, and he changed the subject: “Would you like me to help you clean yourself?”

You said sure and passed him your rag after pumping soap into it. He took it and began cleaning you up. After a bit of time, it started to feel like he was just fondling you, well he definitely was.

“Caleb, what are you-” he cut you off by smashing his lips with yours, dropping your rag to the floor. He kissed you like a man starved and that he needed this to survive.

Caleb picked you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed your back against the glass door of the shower. He started to grind his thick hard on against your tummy, moaning into your mouth as the heat between you built.

Absolutely no words needed. You know what he wants…

[sweetstrawberrysky]

Prompt; The LADS and how they respond when mc is hungry in the middle of the night.

Caleb - Your insistent nudging is what wakes up. “Mh…” He sighs before his eyes even open, “Let me guess. You’re hungry.” You don’t even get to ask him how the hell he knew before he switches into a groggy lecture mode, “I told you, you didn’t eat enough today. You didn’t finish the breakfast I made and you barely picked at your dinner.” You huff and he chuckles. “Come on,” Your gathered into his arms and lifted off the mattress before you can pick a fight. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go to bed grumpy and hungry? Let’s get you something light to eat, then I can make a hearty breakfast in the morning.”

Rafayel - To say he doesn’t appreciate being awoken is an understatement. He’s whiny and grumbly in his half conscious state, holding you tightly, and mumbling at you to stop thrashing. “I’m--” Your stomach growls, “…hungry.” A silence follows until his eyes open up. The way he looks at you has your ears feeling hot. He sighs, “I get that I’m a fish, but you don’t have to fantasize about eating me.” You scoff and hit his chest. “Ouch! I yield, I yield! Please spare me and I’ll make you the yummiest sandwich imaginable, I promise!” Though his dramatics are endearing, the hangry part of you nips at his cheek.

Zayne - When he’s awoken to your quiet, “Zayne, I’m hungry.” He wordlessly opens his tired eyes and looks over at you. After what feels like an eternity of a stare down he says, “I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.” You frown at him, “I wanted a companion in the kitchen with me.” He sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maintaining balanced eating throughout the day would help so this doesn’t happen again in the future.” You blink up at him, “Right… remind me what’s so balanced about eating pastries and drinking milk tea throughout the day?” His own stomach growls and it really drives home the checkmate you just served. At least he accepts his defeat with grace.

Xavier - Very quietly, you slip out of bed. Very quietly, you’re mindful of all your actions that lead you to the kitchen. You avoid the squeaky parts of the floor, you open and close everything extremely slowly, and most importantly you don’t make a peep. Neither does Xavier, hence why you feel your soul leave your body and curse in surprise when the kitchen light suddenly turns on. “What are you doing?” He stands there, menacingly, and observes you. “Xavier! Geez! I-I’m just hungry.” He frowns a little at this, “…You could have told me. I can make something for you--” You’re quick to cut him off, “No, no! That’s okay, thank you. I’ve got it.” He closes in on your personal space to hug your waist and nuzzles your neck. “Then I’ll keep you company.”

Sylus - He’s awake, you’re awake. Both of you are awake. Your sleep schedules are shit. You’re mindlessly watching him with heavy eyelids while he cleans his gun. His shoulder nudges your’s, “If you’re tired you should get some sleep.” You mumble back, “I’m too hungry to sleep.” He pauses, regards you, then gets to his feet. “I don’t want your cooking.” You can hear him click his tongue from the kitchen, his tone amused, “Oh, no? That’s too bad, considering the chef isn’t back until noon.” You fire back, “I can wait until then.” Sylus merely hums. “Alright. Then I’ll only make enough for myself.” He’s bluffing, you can feel it in your bones. Regardless, you regrettably glance his way just to be met with his stupid smug grin and two servings of food being prepared.

[wetforsylus]

– sylus breaking the bed with you ༯

"come- on..." his gruff voice echoed through the bedroom as he pounds himself in your pretty hole harder and harder.

his fingers rested on your waist, nails digging deep in your skin as he continued moving himself faster, the feeling of his cock thumping louder inside your warm walls made you roll your eyes back.

you flutter around him and cling your legs around his waist, hugging him closer, sucking up every inch of his cock inside you.

“dont wanna waste time, huh?” he snickered, leaning close, his breath hitching against yours before he captured your lips in a hungry kiss.

his fingers found your arm, tracing light patterns on it before finding your fingers and interlocking them together, holding onto you with a desperate force.

“hold on tight, sweetie.” he mocked, slowly pulling himself away before a brutal thrust erupted through you. you gasp in shock, holding onto his hand tighter as he continues his alarming pace on you.

loud creaking sounds from the bed echo through the room, you feel yourself shake back and forth, head bobbing up at down at the impact, you felt like you were going to pass out.

a wave of adrenaline rushes through your eyes when you look at sylus’ ruby gaze glistening down at you. a choked moan leaves your lips when you try to chant your release but it was impossible for you to say anything.

“shit- the bed- ngh” sylus gasped, eyes darting at your figure and then at the bed frame which started to crack and creeakk louder and louder by the second and then a-

thud!

echoed through the room, causing a minute of silence and breathless pants fill the buzzed room. sylus sighed in relief and slid his hand away from yours, staring at you with a twisted smirk.

“sylus!” you gasp, trying to lift yourself up but failed at every attempt. you glare at his mocking expression, about to lecture him until he got to you first.

“uh-uh,” he tuts, raising a finger at you and points at the slanted bed the two of you were still sitting on, “i’ll just buy a new one, alright?”

[andraxicated]

Rainy cockwarming and sex with all the LIs!

This is just a little sexy blurb, but imagine...🌧💦

It's nighttime, raining, and you're in the mood for cuddles. So he's all pressed up against your back, and you could feel him eventually getting excited. You shift and groan, saying that you're not in the mood for sex. You just want to sleep. So he keeps his hands to himself until he can't take it anymore. He just has to ask you, and if you agree, then you'll both be happy. Surely, his darling won't deny him a bit of pleasure?

Xavier would kiss your neck, then travel slowly to the area underneath your breasts. His hand would caress your waist to get you in the mood. And you can't help but squirm and curl up in pleasure. He'd ask, "Can I put it in?" and you'd give in, raising your leg to let him hit it from the back and insert himself slowly into your warmth. He feels full inside you and he'd moan so close to your ear. He'd thrust slowly a few times, keeping it nice and steady before a few fast thrusts. He cums inside before being sleepy and staying inside you to warm his cock. It ended up with you not being able to sleep.

Zayne would tell you sheepishly that his dick hurts from all the blood that flowed to the area. It's not his fault he gets so turned on from you in your pajamas. You turn to him, giving in because you do not want him to be uncomfortable all night. He'd kiss you as thanks before pulling down your pajamas and entering you slowly because he's big. You cry out and shake, but Zayne would soothe you so that his presence inside your cunt would be pleasurable for both of you. "You're so good to me..." He stays still inside you, not doing anything, until you give in from the frustration of just cockwarming. "Zayne, move please..." And Zayne would comply and start at a slow pace until a few hours later where you're absolutely getting pounded into the mattress.

Rafayel would peek over at your side and say, "You're not asleep" to which you open your eyes to roll them and face him. "Because I'm trying to sleep with your dick pressed to my ass". He'd just give a smirk and a few minutes later he's gripping the base of his cock to prod at your entrance, tapping a few times before entering. You both moan at the pleasure and he immediately gets to work, no questions asked. He'd piston his cock in and out to make you scream, getting lost in the lovemaking, before manhandling your body to the next position where he fucks you at a deeper angle.

Sylus would have his arms around you while you try to sleep and sense the desire pooling between your thighs when his cock twitched between the plush of your ass. Goosebumps rise from your body when his large hand stalks towards your center and slips inside your shorts, feeling your pussy for wetness. "You're wet," He claims, and you feel like a cat caught in a trap because it is true. You were soaking to the point his big cock didn't have much resistance when pushing in because you made it so easy for him. Sylus has you in a mating press because he loves it when he sees the expressions you make while having sex. He moves and gives experimental thrusts for you to adjust until he actually starts fucking your cunt up so hard the headboard bangs against the wall.

Caleb would put his nose near your neck and dry hump you, thinking you were fast asleep. "Fuck, pips I love you aahhh" He gets off on your scent but his cock is still heavy with the load he's carrying. You were still awake and let him have his fun, knowing Caleb had to release a few more times before falling asleep. So you decided to help by climbing on top of him, taking out his cock, and throwing your discarded underwear on his face. He moans louder than you, his face showing great pleasure when his member is fully embraced in your warmth. He displays his gratitude to you by thrusting from underneath and keeping you impaled on his cock until he cums and falls asleep. He has to stay inside, of course.

[cosmiquenotes]

LADS GUYS WHEN YOU GET LOST

based off me getting lost and refusing to use google maps and my friend flamed me while i was calling her🥀

hope you enjoy 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[whenstarsundress]

— d is for drunk confession

you swayed on your feet a little, clutching your water bottle like it was sacred, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling from the wine someone had poured way too generously. zayne stood just a foot away, watching you like he always did. quiet, careful, intense.

“zaaayyyne,” you whispered, drawing out the vowels, as if his name was a secret.

he blinked once, then again. “…yes?”

you looked around like someone might overhear. but it was just the two of you now, tucked into the corner of the rooftop party. music thumped faintly in the distance. the night breeze was cool.

“don’t tell zayne,” you whispered, swaying closer, your finger pressed to your lips like it was classified. “but…”

he tilted his head slightly. “…but?”

you leaned in, eyes wide. “but i like him.”

zayne’s heart stopped.

you nodded solemnly, like it was the confession of a lifetime. “like… a lot.”

he swallowed, breath caught in his throat. his hands twitched at his sides, wanting to reach for you, desperately, but not daring to.

“and he’s so…” you hiccupped, face scrunching up. “so tall. and quiet. and he listens, you know? he really listens. even when i talk about stupid stuff.”

“none of what you say is stupid,” he said before he could stop himself. his voice was rough.

you blinked up at him, lashes fluttering. “you think so?”

he nodded slowly, like any sudden move might shatter the moment. but then your smile faded, and your brows furrowed just a little.

“…but what if he doesn’t like me back?”

zayne exhaled like he’d been stabbed.

you looked down at your feet, swaying a little again. “what if i ruin everything?”

he couldn’t hold back anymore. one step, that’s all it took. and then his arms were around you in steady, warm, protective hug. you blinked up at him, stunned, cheeks still pink and lips parted.

“i’ve liked you for so long,” he said quietly, like it hurt to say. “i just never thought i could… have you.”

you stared. “you… you do?”

his fingers brushed your cheek. “you have no idea.”

you melted into him with a little breathless laugh, pressing your cheek to his chest.

“don’t tell zayne,” you whispered sleepily, “but i think i wanna kiss him too.”

he smiled for the first time that night. “i think zayne would really like that.”

and when you woke up in his bed the next morning—fully clothed, headache pounding, and a glass of water beside you—you found a little note tucked under your hand:

you confessed last night. i won’t make you say it again sober. but if you do, i’ll kiss you properly. —z

[icarusignite]

he leaves you out like a penny in the rain (p.2)

Pairing: Zayne Li x Non MC Reader

Summary: You spent years orbiting Dr. Zayne Li, but when a careless comment shatters the fragile bond you thought you’d built, you walk away. Only then does Zayne realize what he's lost.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst. slowburn. Zayne being emotionally constipated rip

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: I did not expect all the overwhelming love and feedback on part 1, so thank you so much to everyone who read and interacted, you made my day.

There will be a part 3 later to explore them getting even closer, and that will be more fluff (I did say slowburn lmao). I know they don't technically kiss and make up in this one, but that would be unrealistic, and this chapter is essentially Zayne having an existential crisis lmao. Gotta make our man suffer a little. I may also make this a whole series with more snippets of their life together (dates, workplace shenanigans, wedding, etc.) cuz I am rather attached to the concept of Zayne x coworker lmao. As always would love ot hear yalls thoughts <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

"I didn't ask for her kindness. She's not helping anyone by wasting time with personal errands. If she spent as much energy on her department as she does playing nursemaid, maybe the pediatrics wing would run on schedule."

Zayne regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. In his head, they'd sounded like a neutral observation spoken in the abstract. But out loud? They were undeniably brutal.

He didn't even realize how harshly it had come across until he saw Miss Hunter's expression change. The easygoing smile slid off her face, and her eyes narrowed. She began gathering the files strewn across his desk in silence.

Zayne frowned. "What are you doing?"

Miss Hunter scowled without looking up. "Sometimes I forget that I'm speaking to someone with the emotional availability of a brick."

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes as she shoved a folder into her bag. "I do sincerely hope, for your sake, no one else heard you say that. Your colleague may be a lot of things, but incompetent is not one of them. I've never seen anyone work as hard as she does. She bends over backward for her patients, stays longer than anyone else, and still finds time to show basic human decency to the people around her. You don't have to like her, Zayne, but don't you dare belittle her like that."

Zayne opened his mouth to reply, but the woman had already thrown her coat over one shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Didn't you say you needed my help with the case? That is why you've been coming in, haven't you?"

"I think I have what I need. Someone from the Association will give you a call if we require anything else." Her eyes met his one last time. "Thank you for your time, doctor. Now don't let me waste any more of it."

Then she was gone, and the silence she left behind was deafening. It wasn't like her to walk out like that. Frigid departures were his specialty.

He sat down slowly, but didn't open the file in front of him. Instead, his eyes drifted to the spot on his desk where you used to leave his tea for him.

Miss Hunter was kind. You were, too. He never quite understood why people like that kept finding their way into his life. He seemed terrible at keeping them there. And now, he was starting to understand why.

The words he'd said earlier soured in his stomach, replaying in his mind like a low-grade headache he couldn't medicate away. He didn't even know why he'd said them. It wasn't like him to speak without thinking.

Miss Hunter was one of his oldest friends. She had known him long before he was "Dr. Li." Back when he was just Zayne. She knew his tells better than anyone.

If she had caught him glancing at you every time you entered his office, she would have known immediately. She would have teased him mercilessly, bothered him about something he didn't even fully understand himself.

And she was your friend, too. Which meant she would've told you.

He certainly hadn't wanted that. It would ruin things.

Not that there was anything to ruin, technically. You weren't involved. You weren't his. You weren't anything more than a colleague.

From the early days of med school to the quiet corners of the hospital now, you flitted in and out of his life with a warm drink in one hand and a smile on your face, offering sugar and comfort like it cost you nothing.

Zayne knew better than to believe it was just for him. You were like that with everyone.

You brought donuts for the night shift nurses, slushies for interns melting in the summer heat, and hot cider during the freezing winter. You volunteered to cover holidays and swapped shifts without complaint. You remembered birthdays, favourite snacks, and which residents were allergic to almonds.

You were a kindness machine, and he hated that it still got to him. Sometimes it was hard not to feel like there was something different about the way you smiled at him, and when you slipped out of his office after each delivery, Zayne found it nearly impossible to concentrate afterward.

Your presence left ripples. He had insinuated that you were a distraction, but not because you hindered the hospital. No, you were a distraction to him. When you were gone, he was thinking about you, and when you were near, he couldn't think at all.

So why had he said what he said?

Because he didn't want Miss Hunter to know what he was feeling? Because he didn't want you to know?

Zayne took off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes. He still didn't have a good answer. The only real explanation was the simplest, and the hardest to admit: He'd been cruel. And now he felt the guilt of it like a stone in his throat.

Zayne wasn't the kind of man who tracked people's comings and goings. He only paid attention to pathology reports, test results, and charts with clear logic. He didn't count footsteps in the hallway or wonder where someone's voice had gone.

At least, not until yours had been missing for three days.

At first, he told himself it was a good thing. You were keeping your distance, finally, after all this time. No more interruptions. No more unsolicited desserts or stickers pressed onto his notes like a child's reward chart.

He had, after all, been pulling away from you, too. Maybe you'd finally taken the hint.

He should've been relieved. This distance was what he wanted, wasn't it? He'd convinced himself that if you were gone—if your presence stopped softening the corners of his day—then he'd finally be able to focus again. Be more efficient. More himself.

But to his growing dismay, the effect was the exact opposite. He could focus even less.

He spent too long rereading documents, missed the timing on his own schedule, and found his attention drifting in the middle of patient reports. Every time he turned a corner and didn't see you, he wondered where you were. When he passed the pediatric ward and didn't catch a glimpse of you hunched over a chart or joking with a young patient, he slowed to search without meaning to.

Maybe you were on vacation. That was rational. Doctors took leave all the time, and you of all people deserved one. But when he asked a pediatric nurse in passing, he got an answer that deflated every illusion he'd been holding onto.

"She's still on duty," the nurse explained. "Very busy. You know how she can be."

That was worse. You were close by, and still not coming around. It became harder to ignore.

Occasionally, he'd get a glimpse of your coat disappearing down a hall, or the top of your head as you ducked into the operating theatre, but never your face. And he certainly never saw you in his office again, even when you should have been there.

His desk was cleaner now. No crumbs from lemon cake, and no more paper cups of oolong. During his breaks, he found himself rifling through his drawers, trying not to look at the stack of stickers he kept there. The ones he peeled off and meant to toss, but never did.

There was the glittering, heart-shaped one you'd slapped onto his clipboard months ago. A cartoon cat, a kidney with googly eyes, and a shiny peach. You'd stuck that last one on his stethoscope once, and he hadn't taken it off for days, claiming it made his youngest patients smile.

But really, it was because it made you smile.

By the fifth day of your absence, he found himself looking up every time his office door opened. He dared not say aloud what he was hoping for, but the disappointment in his expression was telling enough when his guest never turned out to be you. He hadn't realized how often you used to cross his path until you didn't anymore.

On the sixth day, he lingered by the pediatric nurses' station, claiming he was checking up on a shared patient, but he didn't find you.

On the seventh, he stopped by the eastern stairwell just before midnight, the one he knew you liked to take instead of the elevator because you were trying to get your daily steps in. It was empty, but he waited for fifteen whole minutes.

By the end of the week, something in his chest felt too tight. The silences were heavy, and his tea never tasted right because he had to make it himself.

It was nearing midnight when Zayne finally finished logging the last of his post-op notes. The hospital had thinned to its late-shift hush, leaving only the occasional overhead call and the low hum of fluorescent lighting that never truly turned off.

The unexpected sound of knocking almost made him flinch, but when the door opened, his shoulders practically slumped in disappointment.

"No need to look so disheartened by my presence," his colleague, Dr. Greyson, teased. "I'm only here to drop off patient files, as you requested."

Zayne didn't respond.

"I really wish you hadn't scared off our caffeine supplier, though," Dr. Greyson continued, unaware of the subtle shift in the man's demeanour at the mention of you.

"Excuse me?"

"You know. The doctor who used to swing by with desserts. She hasn't come by in a whole week. The whole cardiology department is suffering. Morale's at an all-time low."

Zayne rolled his eyes. "I hardly think anyone's suffering."

Greyson tilted his head, watching him with that infuriating look that said I know more than you think I do."Did you scare her off or something? You used to get visits like clockwork. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I find myself missing that 'you-forgot-to-eat-again' look of pity she used to give all of us."

"She is probably busy. As you should be."

Greyson clicked his tongue. "I'm not trying to pry—well, maybe I am, just a little—but I figure if she stopped showing up, and you started passing by pediatrics like you're casing the joint, something must've happened."

"Nothing happened," Zayne muttered stiffly.

"Sure. Except for the part where she's been sending interns to collect your reports instead of coming herself. And the part where you've looked like someone kicked your cat for three days straight. You're not as subtle as you think."

"It's none of your business."

"Isn't it?" his colleague drawled. "Because it's starting to affect your concentration. You missed a detail on that post-op note yesterday. Not like you."

Zayne's lips pressed into a thin line. "It was corrected immediately."

"Doesn't mean I didn't notice." Then he added, more gently, "You know, if she's avoiding you, there's probably a reason."

Dr. Greyson's words echoed long after he departed.

Zayne scoffed at first, but the question refused to dislodge itself, settling under his skin like a splinter he couldn't quite reach.

What had he done? What could he have done?

He turned the thought over again and again, as if studying it from every clinical angle might make it reveal itself.

Yes, perhaps he'd been colder than usual lately, but that wasn't new. You'd known him long enough to recognize the ebb and flow of his moods. You used to tease him about it. "Dr. Li, did your coffee betray you again today?" or "Should I come back when the glacier thaws?"

You always came back because you weren't the type to hold a grudge. And certainly not the type to vanish without a word. If something bothered you, you would have said it.

So, why disappear?

The only thing he'd done differently, the only deviation from the constant rhythm of your companionship, was—

His stomach turned.

No.

There was no way.

Had you heard what he said to Miss Hunter that night? Or worse, had she told you herself?

Miss Hunter wasn't the sort to do that, especially if she knew it would hurt you. But you hadn't been working that night. He'd checked the rota; you weren't even on call.

His voice sounded vindictive in hindsight. He had only meant it as a deflection. A way to keep Miss Hunter from pressing further into places he hadn't yet dared to look himself. He hadn't thought—

He hadn't thought.

His gut twisted. That would explain your absence. You hadn't simply disappeared, you'd withdrawn. And not just from him, but from his whole department.

He'd done something worse than push you too far. He'd made you feel small and irrelevant.

Zayne exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, overcome with guilt. He didn't know what he was going to do. He wasn't good with apologies. He wasn't even sure how to begin, but something had to be done.

If not for himself—he still wouldn't allow himself that admission—then at least for the others. For the people who looked to you. For the space you had filled so effortlessly, that now felt so cold and painfully quiet.

Maybe, if he could fix this, you'd look at him again the way you used to. Maybe it was time for him to stop watching his door and finally go knock on yours.

The next week, Zayne finally mustered the courage to approach you. He stood just by your office, waiting for you to arrive, but when you finally did, you were moving too quickly for him to say anything. Your shoulders were tensed as you ducked past him, and without thinking to ask for permission, he followed you inside.

You didn't even acknowledge his presence. You were hunched over a drawer, rifling through it with your good hand. The other one—your dominant, he noticed—was clenched in a bloodied fist, a crimson thread trickling from between your fingers and down your wrist.

"You're hurt," he murmured.

You ignored him, yanking open another drawer with more force than necessary. Your good hand trembled as you pulled out the first aid kit, and it clattered onto the desk, spilling slightly.

He took a step forward. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

Still no response, and Zayne was forced to watch as you clumsily opened the box, tugging at alcohol wipes and sterile gauze with one hand, fumbling with the bandage roll like it had personally offended you. When the antiseptic hit your wound, you hissed, and that was the last straw.

Zayne reached for your wrist, and you pulled back as if stung, your blood-slicked palm cradled awkwardly against your chest.

"I just want to—"

"Leave me be!" you snapped. "Please. I have work to do."

He didn't raise his voice. "You can't work like this."

"I am working like this."

"You can't take care of your patients if you can't take care of yourself."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Is this your way of calling me incompetent again? Believe me, Dr. Li, I have no time for you right now."

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed impatiently. "I'm not trying to—look, please, just let me help. You can snap at me all you want afterwards."

Without waiting for your response, he firmly nudged you in the direction of your chair, and you let him because standing suddenly felt too exhausting. Maybe the adrenaline had worn off, or maybe you were just too tired to argue anymore. You kept your mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line as he worked.

Zayne didn't speak either, kneeling beside you tentatively. He did not look at your face as he pried open your fist, his frown deepening as he examined the wound. Then he cleaned it with uncharacteristic tenderness, wiping away the blood and wrapping the gauze, his fingers stalling against your skin a beat too long.

When he finally stood to pack the kit away, you stood too, your anger spilling past your lips in a venomous tumble.

"My apologies for wasting your precious time with personal errands, Dr. Li," you practically sneered. "But you don't have to play nursemaid anymore. You do have a department to run, after all."

His own words thrown back at him. Zayne winced, but met your gaze without faltering. He deserved every bit of your resentment. "That was...certainly warranted."

You scoffed, pressing your wrapped hand into your lap. "Damn right, it was."

He nodded stiffly, absorbing the blow without complaint. He would accept your barbed words because at least you were speaking to him. Anything was better than your silence.

"I..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

When all you could do was glower at him, he adjusted his lab coat just to have something to do with his hands.

"I have no excuse for what I said. Or for what you heard," he continued. "It was... awful. And cruel. And I was wrong. You work harder than anyone else here. You work too hard. And I never should've implied otherwise. I'm sorry."

"I don't accept it," you said simply.

"I—"

"I don't care if that makes me petty. I'm allowed to be angry. You don't get forgiveness just because you decided to feel bad about it now."

Zayne's mouth parted in protest. "I know this is about the conversation you overheard, and I—"

"The one where you called me pathetic? Questioned my competence? You essentially said I've been neglecting my job because I bring my colleagues refreshments every now and then?"

"You must know...I had no intention of hurting you."

"Didn't you?" You stepped back, putting some distance between the two of you. "Because I remember every word. Every. Word. And believe me, it wasn't the first time I've been told I'm not good enough to be here. I just never thought you'd be the one to say it."

He flinched, but you didn't give him the chance to say anything else.

You tipped your head toward the door. "Please leave, Dr. Li. As per your earlier suggestions, I am working on managing my time better, and part of that includes not engaging in pointless conversations."

You followed him to the door, closing it in his face with a click. It was worse than if you had slammed it, because this felt too final.

He was just about to leave when he heard the strangled sound from the other side. A whimper and then a quiet sniffle. Zayne stood frozen in place, hand hovering over the doorknob, wishing he could offer more than the hollow apology he had.

His voice, when it came, was hoarse. "Truly, I am sorry."

For the first time in all the years he had known you, there was nothing else he could say.

Zayne didn't try to speak to you again. You asked him to leave you alone, and he respected your decision enough to resist intruding into your life. But that didn't mean he stopped caring, and he certainly never stopped trying. He just changed the way he did it.

You never ran out of your favourite stationery, a new box appearing on your desk every time you were even close, and it seemed that someone had paid for a lifetime's worth of beverage orders at the cafe across the street where you frequented. Every time you showed up, the barista would grin at you and tell you that your order had been paid for, no matter what hour it was. It was absurd.

The nurses had started noticing, too. How Zayne signed off on consults for your shared patients before you could ask him to. And the fact that the smartboard in your office now auto-updated like clockwork because someone had programmed the algorithm to pull directly from the cardiology logs.

He didn't overstep, of course. He didn't want to do anything that would make you think he was questioning your competence or ability to get things done. He just handled the little things to make your life easier.

For Zayne, it wasn't about being forgiven. He wasn't delusional enough to think that any of this would win you over, but that wasn't the point. He just couldn't stand the thought of you being tired, overworked, or overlooked anymore.

He knew you were angry, and you had every right to be, but this was the only way he could think of to fix things. To anticipate your every need before it arose and solve it before it became a problem.

However, no matter how much he tried to stay out of your way, his eyes were always drawn toward you when he occasionally passed you by, like a reflex he couldn't kill. You never returned the look, and though it killed him, he never stopped refilling the frog stickers when the last sheet disappeared from your drawer, and making sure the lab results for your most critical cases were flagged top priority. He wasn't waiting for your gratitude. He just didn't know what else to do with the ache that sat where your laughter used to echo.

It became unbearable when he began messing with your break room. The one in the pediatric wing was barely even a room, really just a glorified closet with a dying microwave and a fridge that made suspicious humming noises when overfilled. But it had been your domain. A little corner of chaos you liked to keep warm for the interns and residents who rotated through your department, stumbling half-asleep between charts and crying toddlers.

You'd made it a habit to stock the cabinets with snacks. Caffeine bars. Gummy vitamins. Single-serve juice boxes and thermal mugs with weird slogans. It wasn't much, but it made the 2 a.m. shifts bearable. People had started calling it the "Sunshine Station."

But lately, something had shifted.

You didn't notice it at first because you were too busy. But then, one afternoon, you ducked into the room to grab the last apple juice from the mini fridge, only to find that the juice had already been restocked. Not just that, it had been rearranged neatly, the labels facing out. Right next to a new box of cereal bars that no one else even liked, but your most overworked intern swore kept her from fainting.

It was strange. You hadn't placed an order this month because you'd been shamefully distracted by your own indignation. When you checked the other cabinets, they were full too, and not just with generics, either.

The gummy vitamins were the exact kind your other interns liked, the ones shaped like bears instead of those awful chalky tablets. Whoever had placed the order had even remembered to get lactose-free yogurt.

When you asked around later that day, all you received were blank stares. Those who frequented the break room claimed that the items had been simply delivered as they always were, and that they thought you had been the one to handle it like you always did.

It unsettled you. For years, you had been the one to keep things stocked. You took pride in remembering everyone's favourites because you liked showing up for the people who worked under you. It mattered to you. But now it was as if someone had quietly picked up where you left off. Someone had taken the time to learn what your team liked. Someone who was trying very hard to make amends.

You shut the thought down fast. You didn't want to think about him.

But your interns had other ideas, it seemed.

The next evening, you were filling out patient notes at the corner table, half-tuned out, while they squabbled over a nearly empty box of mango pudding cups.

"I swear to god, Nam, that was my last one!"

"First come, first serve, Clara. You've had four already!"

"I'm dessert-loading for morale!"

You didn't intervene. Their bickering was strangely comforting, like white noise after too many days of stifling silence.

Clara finally wrenched the box from Nam's hands, only to gasp dramatically.

"They're gone!" she mourned, rattling the empty cardboard. "My pudding! This is an emergency!"

"Just ask Dr. Li to add them to the supply list," Nam muttered, crouching to inspect the fridge's bottom shelf for apple slices.

You froze. "Ask who?"

Nam's head jerked up, eyes wide. "I—I mean, like. I don't know why I said that. Just—someone else must've added them to the order since you've been so busy lately. That's all I meant."

Clara nodded with a false smile. "We must have a secret supplier in our midst who keeps us stocked. The Snack Phantom. Or maybe... the Nutrition Ninja."

Nam nodded sagely. "The Candy Courier."

"Or the Juicy Justice Man."

"Okay, now you're just being plain ridiculous," you snorted, rubbing your temple. "In case you forgot, I'm the one who places the orders. And I'm sorry I forgot to this month. So what's all this about Dr. Li? He's got nothing to do with us."

Clara's eyes bounced between you and Nam guiltily. "Oh. Uh...it's just that he asked us about our snack preferences."

Nam nodded. Then quickly shook his head. "Well, not all of them. Just like... a few specific ones."

You squinted suspiciously. "Like what?"

Nam hesitated. "Like, which flavour of chips you like. And which brand of protein bars Clara eats when she's on night shifts. And those gummies that Dr. Gao hoards like a dragon."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

"Dr. Li doesn't believe in vending machines," Clara deadpanned, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere. "I swear I've heard him call flavoured chips 'an affront to God' once."

"He's not trying to replace you, of course," Nam added hastily. "He's just taking stuff off your plate. We all know how busy you've been lately. You even have that health outreach drive this weekend."

Your jaw clenched, and you looked back down at your chart, trying to keep your expression unreadable. In your periphery, you saw the two interns nudge each other, mumbling something about a chart they forgot to update before scuttling off.

When the room cleared out a few minutes later, you were left alone with your tepid green tea, staring at a worn sticker someone had left on the edge of the table. The same kind you used to put on Zayne's mugs.

Suddenly, every little thing felt far too overwhelming. You didn't know what you were supposed to feel.

Gratitude? Bitterness? Some ugly combination of both?

You were just so tired.

It was past midnight when you finally finished with your tasks of the day, exhaustion making your limbs feel like they belonged to someone else. Your coat was slung over your arm, your bag slumped tiredly against one shoulder, and the charts you'd meant to leave in the admin office tilted in your grip like a collapsing tower.

You cursed under your breath when a few of them slipped loose and tumbled to the floor. When you bent, your back made an uncharacteristic sound, and you winced. You hadn't eaten dinner. Or lunch, or even breakfast, for that matter. Your feet hurt, and you still had a dozen things to do tomorrow, even though it was supposed to be your day off.

Of course, this would happen. Of course—

"Let me help."

You turned sharply, and there stood Dr. Zayne Li, just a few paces away.

His hair was impeccable as always, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, coat draped carelessly over his shoulder. He looked as tired as you felt. More, maybe. The shadows under his eyes had grown darker since the last time you really looked at him.

You hadn't seen him this close in months.

In the time it took for you to scrutinize him, he had already stepped forward to gather your scattered files. When he handed them back to you, his fingers brushed yours tentatively, but you did not thank him.

Nonetheless, he followed you to the nurses' station where you dropped your load off, and then outside toward the exit.

"I didn't think you'd let me help," he remarked.

You shrugged, and that earned the smallest quirk of his lips. Equal parts sad and knowing. He must have sensed some kind of brittle neutrality in your expression. Not forgiveness, but the absence of active malice. The first thaw in a long, punishing winter.

When the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, he held the door open for you. You didn't comment on it, and the silence stretched again.

Zayne cleared his throat. "You're off tomorrow, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"I checked the roster. I wasn't trying to pry."

You gave him a sideways glance.

"I just—" He adjusted his cufflinks. "I've been trying to apologize. Properly. I know I hurt you. I said things I didn't mean, and I let you believe things that weren't true. That you weren't—"

You turned to face him then, and he stopped talking.

"You did hurt me."

He swallowed. "I know."

"I still don't think I forgive you."

"I don't expect you to."

Your arms wrapped around yourself. "But holding onto it for this long has been exhausting, so I'm going to let it go. I'm not letting you off the hook. I am just letting myself off it. I simply don't care what you think of me, so you can rest easy, I suppose. I'm not angry anymore."

Strangely enough, you found that you meant it. It had been several months since the incident, and although for a short while it had bruised your ego, you needed to try and move past it. It was a lesson you had learned early in life when everyone around you doubted your abilities. You could not let their opinions of you make you waver. The same applied here. While you admired Zayne's intelligence and abilities, you refused to let his opinion of you affect your work. You had worked too hard for that to happen.

You were letting go more for yourself than for him. You wondered if Zayne knew that too, because he was looking at you with an expression of melancholy resignation, like he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or devastated. 

Was indifference any better than fury?

When you stepped past him to head in the direction of the train station, he called out after you. "You shouldn't take the train this late."

You didn't stop walking. "I've done it before."

"You're exhausted."

"Shocking, considering I just completed a 17-hour shift looking after tiny humans with fevers and sticky fingers."

"I'll drive you."

You glanced at him over your shoulder skeptically. "What, is this some sort of attempt at penance?"

"No," Zayne countered. "It's common sense. You're swaying on your feet."

You opened your mouth for a retort, but he was right, and frankly, you were too tired to protest on principle. So with a small, muttered, "Fine," you followed him to the parking lot.

You said nothing as you slid into the passenger seat and let the warmth of the heater begin to soothe the ache in your muscles.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, five minutes later, the streetlights outside looked wrong.

"This isn't my route."

Zayne didn't look at you. "I'm taking you to dinner."

"I didn't consent to that."

"You got in my car, didn't you?"

You turned fully to glare at him. "Where are we going?"

He disclosed the name of your favourite late-night restaurant, the one with the golden stew and free barley tea.

"How did you—?"

"I know you haven't eaten all day."

"Have you been having my interns spy on me?"

"You can't be both sleep and nutrition deprived. I've bagged up bodies that had more vitality than you."

"Oh, so now we've moved on to insulting my appearance? How novel."

"You're not hideous," Zayne remarked absently. "You just look like a Victorian ghost that's been wandering the moors since 1852."

You made a strangled noise of indignation. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Well, you should start acting like it."

But you lacked your usual fire. Then your stomach betrayed you, growling so loudly it echoed through the silence of the car.

Zayne didn't say anything, but the way he glanced over at you with that annoyingly subtle twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth made your scowl deepen.

"...Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm not thanking you."

"Wouldn't dream of asking you to," he said dryly, pulling into the familiar lot.

You rolled your eyes but stepped out when he opened the door for you, letting the smell of garlic, chilli, and warm rice overpower the urge to strangle him.

The restaurant was nearly empty at this hour, only a few lingering patrons tucked into booths, and faint ballads played through the speakers like a lullaby. You sat across from Zayne, not quite looking at him, and the overhead light was dim enough to make everything feel like a dream viewed through steam.

The waitress didn't bother with menus because she knew your order. You'd been coming here ever since your residency days. She simply smiled and said, "The usual?" with a glance at you, then your companion, who gave a silent nod.

You watched her leave, then directed your attention toward him. "You didn't even ask what I wanted."

"You always get the same thing. Unless you've changed your mind in the last several years."

"And if I had?"

"Then I'd offer you mine."

That shut you up for a moment.

"I didn't expect you to say yes," he confessed candidly. "To dinner."

"Then why are you trying so hard?"

"Because I miss you." His response startled even him because he immediately avoided your probing gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"I miss..." He exhaled. "I miss your bad jokes. Your sugar bribes. The energy you bring into a room just by walking into it. I miss being someone who deserved all of that."

"Dr. Li...Zayne...what are you doing?"

Your use of his first name made his heart convulse in his chest, and he wondered with mild curiosity if he was having a heart attack. You tended to have that effect on him. "I'm trying to make things right."

You didn't have an answer for that, so you picked up your spoon and dipped it into your food that had just arrived. You let the warmth hit your tongue, sink into your bones, and settle somewhere deep inside the ache. This was easier than coming up with a response.

Across from you, Zayne stirred his bowl absently. For someone who dragged you here with such conviction, he wasn't eating much. You caught him glancing at you more than once, and each time, he looked away just as quickly.

Then he cleared his throat. "So, one of my interns fainted in the middle of a laparoscopic demonstration yesterday."

You blinked, surprised he was talking at all, let alone telling you stories.

"She nearly took down the anesthesia tray with her."

"Oh...is she okay?"

"She's fine. She may have forgotten to eat. Or breathe. Possibly both." A beat. "I told her if she ever wants to pull a stunt like that again, she has to warn me first so I can bill cardiology for Greyson's near heart attack."

You gave a reluctant huff of amusement, and he seized it like a drowning man to driftwood.

"And then, today, one of my residents presented a case that was very obviously plagiarized from a House episode. He even kept the ludicrous diagnosis."

"That's... dramatic."

"He said, and I quote, 'It's rare, but not impossible, Dr. Li.'" Zayne took a sip of water. "I told him so is being struck by lightning during a Sudoku competition. That doesn't mean it belongs on a discharge summary."

You snorted into your rice. He seemed pleased by that. As pleased as he ever looked, which wasn't much, but you saw the ease in his shoulders, and the faint wrinkle at the corner of his eyes.

It was odd, watching him do what you used to do. Filling the silences and stumbling awkwardly over attempts at connection. Sharing things he wouldn't normally bother to say out loud. You tried not to let it affect you.

Tried.

Zayne glanced at you again, then made a visible effort to keep going. "Someone else spilled an entire tray of empty vials. He dropped them while trying to open his pudding cup. I told him that's what he gets for eating like a five-year-old."

You smirked. "Dr. Greyson told me last year that you eat your sandwiches with a knife and fork."

Zayne didn't miss a beat, going along with your story just for the sake of hearing you talk. "I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"You... what?"

"It's cleaner. You get an even distribution. No hand residue. Structural integrity is maintained throughout."

"That is the most unhinged thing I've heard in months."

"I'm a surgeon," he replied unapologetically. "I value precision."

"You're a monster."

"Possibly."

Another quiet moment passed, but this time it was companionable, warmed by broth and faint humour.

Zayne stirred his stew with mechanical precision, then said, with no real preamble, "Did I ever tell you about the time one of my interns tried to impress me by diagnosing a nosebleed as a sign of brain-eating amoeba?"

"...Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I were."

"And what was your response, Dr. Li?"

"I told her that unless the patient had just returned from a stagnant swamp in the middle of winter, she was catastrophizing. Then I handed her a nasal spray."

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh. "You're such a menace."

"She handed in a ten-page write-up on amoebic encephalitis the next morning."

"I'm torn between horror and pride."

"Greyson said I should start charging tuition."

"As if you don't make enough money already."

"They're all chaos." He shook his head. "One of them showed up in inappropriate footwear during an OR rotation and asked if we were doing anything fun today."

You choked on your rice, and Zayne offered you a napkin without comment.

"Inappropriate footwear? Would that be high heels or Crocs?"

"I cannot recall exactly."

"God. That sounds like something you would've done back in school."

Your dinner companion looked offended at the insinuation. "I would never have disgraced myself that way."

"True. You were insufferably by-the-book."

"I still am."

"You are." You chuckled again, reluctantly. You hadn't laughed this much in months.

Worst of all, you didn't hate the way it felt. But you hated that you missed it. You hated how much you'd missed him. You had to remind yourself that he was just trying extra hard to alleviate his own guilt, not because he actually wanted you to feel better. But it was hard to question his sincerity when he looked at you so earnestly. To you, his eyes had always been his most mesmerizing feature, and now, when he trained them on you, unguarded and sincere, you felt your resolve start to crumble.

Despite the distance and the cruelty that still stung at the edges of your memory, the ache hadn't lessened. There was something so familiar about him, the way his stories came out stiff and slightly disjointed, like they'd been rehearsed. The way he glanced up between anecdotes to check if you were still listening.

"I also miss not being verbally assaulted every morning by my ravenous interns asking where the 'sugar fairy' went." He gave you a gentle smile, something a little more than the usual twitch of his lips, and you chugged your glass of water to drown the sudden influx of butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

You groaned. "I knew Dr. Greyson started that name."

"He did. But the students run with it like it's gospel. I overheard one say they were going to sacrifice someone to the snack deity if you didn't come back to our floor soon."

"And would that someone have been you?"

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

You laughed before you could stop yourself. You tried to smother it, but it bubbled up anyway. "Indeed, I would."

Zayne looked deeply, irritatingly satisfied, and you bit back another smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself enjoy it.

You were too tired to resist the lull of good conversation and an old friend tonight. Tomorrow, you could try to go back to hating him. Tomorrow, you would take your grudge by the hand, but today, you deserved to let go a little.

Eventually, he stopped talking, and you looked up to find him watching you intently. Almost reverently.

"...What?" you asked, warily. "Do I have rice on my face or something?"

He didn't respond.

"Seriously. What are you looking at?"

Zayne hesitated. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"What?"

"That thing I said. About you looking like a Victorian ghost."

"Oh?" Your lips quirked up wryly. "Do I look worse, then? Let me guess. Forest cryptid instead? Decrepit hag?"

Zayne didn't crack a smile or tease you back, and something fragile fluttered just beneath the surface of his gaze.

No. You look beautiful.

Even like this. Even in exhaustion with dark circles under your eyes and your hair messier than you probably realized. You were beautiful in the way late-night hospital lights made you glow. Beautiful in the way you had always cared, even for people like him, who never knew how to deserve it.

He hated that it had taken him this long to notice. Or rather, that it had taken him even longer to admit it to himself, but he would spend the rest of his days trying to find the right moment to say it aloud, to make you believe it. 

Today, however, was not the right moment, so he just wordlessly refilled your cup of water.

You didn't thank him, but you didn't push him away either.

For tonight, that was enough.

Taglist: @floofycookie @heartandeye @lanxianschoenheit @loverindeepspace @treeteaofversailles @ikesimpleton @mysticcauldronspire @69-gojos-wife-69 @nm4565natty @ciexuvia @jeonjenny @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusgirlie7 @raethewargeneral @staarflowerr @eolivy @straykidslvr @lemurianmaster @preeyas-world @sillyfreakfanparty

Hope I didn't miss anyone ❤️

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ The morning of the wedding

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, i can’t believe we’re almost done with the wedding series :(

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ It’s the morning of your wedding

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The morning light spills across the wedding venue, turning the white curtains gold. Your makeup’s already flawless, the satin train of your gown cascading behind you like waves, soft, fluid, regal. You’re radiant, glowing, a little pouty because you hadn’t seen your fiancé since last night. And it was killing him too. Thomas had to pry Rafayel away from the bedroom door this morning because he tried to sneak in at least five times under the excuse of “checking the dress isn’t crinkled” or “baby probably needs a cuddle.”

Now, he’s standing at the center of the garden courtyard for the first look. Blue hydrangeas line the stone path, and the sound of the sea murmurs softly behind him. He’s in a pale pearl-toned suit that matches your bouquet, a tiny shell-shaped pin tucked into his lapel. His fingers twitch at his sides, anxious, breath held.

“Okay,” the videographer whispers from behind the camera, “you can walk toward him now.”

You smile, lifting the hem of your dress just slightly as you move toward him. Your perfume carries on the breeze, he notices immediately.

“She’s here,” Rafayel mutters under his breath, body stiffening. “That’s her perfume. That’s my pearl. Oh god, oh god, Thomas I’m gonna cry. Do I look sexy when I cry?”

“No,” Thomas answers flatly. “Stay still.”

You gently tap his shoulder.

Rafayel turns around slowly, and the moment his eyes land on you, he freezes. His lips part, stunned, then he stumbles back half a step, like you physically knocked the breath out of him.

“Pearlie…” His voice cracks. His lashes blink rapidly, already glassy. “What the—are you kidding me? Are you joking right now?! You—! You’re like a—like a—!”

“Princess?” you offer smugly.

“No! Not just a princess. Like, like a divine ocean spirit who came from the sea just to ruin me emotionally and financially!” He swipes a hand down his face, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “I’m gonna be so annoying about this for the rest of my life. You look—baby, you look unreal.”

You twirl a little for him, causing the dress to shimmer.

He gasps, openly gawking. “Okay but you already said yes, right? Like you already signed the forms? Because if you say no now I will jump in the ocean and die dramatically.”

“Too late,” you say sweetly, walking right into his arms. “You’re stuck with me.”

Rafayel squeezes you tightly, resting his forehead against yours with a teary grin. “Good. Because if you had any plans of running, I already dismantled your car engine. Just in case.”

You snort. “Seriously?”

“I took the wheels off too. Romantic, right?”

You laugh into his chest, and he kisses the top of your head over and over, murmuring, “You’re gonna be my wife. You’re gonna be my wife. Mine.”

He spins you in his arms for the camera and tells the crew, “Tell the world I got the prettiest girl alive. And no, they can’t borrow her. Not even for five seconds.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The prep room had been quiet, too quiet. Zayne had been sitting alone, suit crisp, collar uncomfortably starched, fingers resting on his knee in the calmest version of barely-contained tension. He was always composed. Always the controlled one. But today? Today his throat was tight. He hadn’t even touched the espresso the staff brought him.

The moment had come. You were ready.

Outside, in the glasshouse garden set up for the first look, snow-like petals flutter gently from the cherry blossom trees surrounding him. Zayne stands at the center, back turned, jaw tight, hands in his pockets, but you can tell from the slight rise and fall of his chest that he’s not unaffected.

When the videographer whispers, “Alright, go to him,” you don’t rush.

You glide.

The silk of your gown whispers against stone, and your veil catches in the sunlight like a glimmering frost. The moment you get close, Zayne straightens slightly. You’re not even touching yet, but he knows you’re near. The soft hush of your perfume. That warm, familiar pull in his chest.

You reach out and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns.

And he stops breathing.

For a moment, Zayne doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His eyes scan over every inch of you, your gown, your lashes, the way you’re glowing just for him. And then his hand comes up, slowly, reverently, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch something so divine.

“…Sweetheart.”

His voice is low. Stunned. Cracked at the edges.

You smile, teasing, “Are you gonna cry, doctor?”

He scoffs under his breath, stepping forward to cup your cheek, thumb trembling as it brushes under your eye.

“I’m… overwhelmed,” he admits softly, lips twitching into a crooked smile. “You look—snowflake, you look like a dream I don’t deserve.”

You tease, “Too late. You signed the contract. No refunds, no exchanges.”

Zayne laughs softly, but his eyes stay on yours, serious now. “If you want to run, I’d let you. Just say the word.”

You frown slightly. “What?”

“If you’re scared… if you’re unsure,” he says gently, voice low and private even with the camera nearby, “I’d let you go. You could hate me for the rest of my life and I’d still love you.”

There’s a long pause before you raise a brow. “You done being dramatic?”

He blinks.

“Because I’m not letting you run,” you say, grabbing his tie and yanking him down just a little. “You’re mine. No take-backs.”

And for the first time today, Zayne really smiles. That rare, warm, slow curl of his lips reserved for you and only you.

He kisses your forehead gently, breathing you in like medicine. “Alright then, darling. Let’s go wreck the world together.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The celestial-themed observatory terrace was quiet, save for the soft whirr of drones capturing footage from above and the hum of wind drifting through the open dome. Golden light bathed the curved stone floor where Xavier stood, back turned, hands folded neatly behind him.

He looked ethereal himself, tailored black and silver suit, snowy silver hair slicked back (for once), his star-etched ring glinting in the sun. But anyone watching closely would notice the tiniest signs of nerves: the way his thumb brushed the ring over and over. The gentle flex in his jaw.

You walk out, dress trailing behind you like stardust, veil sparkling under the sun.

You don’t say a word. Just walk until you’re close enough to whisper, “Xavi.”

Xavier turns slowly.

And his breath catches in his throat.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. His blue eyes are wide, starstruck. Like he’s staring at something holy.

He parts his lips, and for a second you think he’ll say something profound, but instead…

“…You look like a constellation,” he says, almost dazed.

You blink. “That’s… not even a full sentence, Xavi.”

He lifts a hand to his chest, clutching where his heart should be. “I think I’m going into cardiac arrest.”

You laugh, stepping closer, and his hands hover, unsure where to touch, what’s safe. Like you’re delicate. Sacred. His bride.

“You okay?” you tease.

He nods slowly. “I just… I’ve imagined this. But you’re more beautiful than anything my mind could make up.” He pauses, eyes flicking to the veil, the bouquet, your lips. “You’re perfect.”

“You’ve seen the dress already.”

“Not like this.” He finally touches your cheek, brushing your skin like he’s trying to confirm you’re real. “This version is… married to me.”

You giggle softly. “Almost.”

He raises a brow. “You’re not planning to run, are you?”

“Not unless you are.”

“Mm.” He leans in, kisses the tip of your nose. “If I ever ran, starlight, it would only be to get you more rings.”

You snort. “Multiple rings?”

“Seven. One for each day of the week. One for each realm. One for every time you look at me like this.”

The camera crew melts in the background while Xavier just stares at you, mesmerized, thumb brushing your lips like he’s studying his favorite artifact.

And then, suddenly:

“…Wait. Did I forget to bring the vows?” he whispers urgently.

You blink.

“Xavier!”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

The venue had a beautiful red glow, surrounded by dark roses, glass panels, and an eerie, elegant calm. The skyline stretched out behind Sylus like a battlefield he’d already conquered.

He stood with his back turned, hands in his pockets, posture so relaxed it almost looked fake. He was dressed in sleek black with subtle red accents, his cufflinks shaped like tiny obsidian crows. No nerves on the surface. Just that signature cocky stillness.

Until he heard your heels.

Click. Click. Click.

Then silence.

The moment you stop, he speaks, without turning.

“…Tell me you’re not about to make me cry in front of six camera drones and an entire PR team.”

You grin, voice light. “Depends. Are you going to run before I can trap you into eternal domestic bliss?”

He turns.

And that’s it.

Sylus visibly stumbles. Just a step, but for him, that’s seismic. His eyes drink you in, trailing from the intricate neckline of your gown to the shimmer of your veil to the smug little smile you’re wearing because you know you look like his undoing.

He exhales. “…Holy fuck.”

You snort. “That all you got, Mr. Sylus?”

He takes two slow steps forward, one hand covering his mouth, red eyes blazing. “No, no, don’t speak. Don’t move. I need to immortalize this exact image in my mind. I swear to God if one single wind gust messes up your veil—”

You raise an amused brow. “Getting sentimental, Sy?”

“Kitten,” he says softly, dropping his hand, “I’m standing here trying to remember what breathing is.”

You tilt your head. “You’ve seen the dress before.”

“I didn’t see you wearing it like this. I didn’t see you glowing like you were custom-made just for me.” He closes the distance, cupping your cheek, then tracing your waist with both hands like he’s memorizing it. “You’re gonna ruin me. You know that?”

“You say that like I haven’t already.”

He grins lazily. “Mm. True.”

He leans in, brushing your ear with a whisper, “If you’re planning on bolting, now’s the time. I’ll even give you a five-minute head start.”

You laugh, but Sylus tightens his hold around your waist and murmurs,

“…But I will find you. You know that, right?”

You grin up at him, mischievous. “I’m not running. Not from you.”

He kisses your forehead, then your lips, soft and slow, like he’s sealing a deal. “Good. Because I’ve already printed your new passport. Non-refundable.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The Skyhaven garden deck was quiet, private, just the way Caleb demanded. Far above the city, clouds skimmed low over the glass rails, making it feel like the two of you were floating somewhere between heaven and home.

He stood with his back to you, broad shoulders perfectly straight in his charcoal suit, black shirt, and deep purple tie you picked out weeks ago “because it matched his eyes.” His fingers were tucked into his pockets, but his knuckles were white. He hadn’t stopped pacing for the last ten minutes until the videographer told him “just stay still, sir.”

The second your heels touched the wood panels, he went dead silent.

And when you say softly, “Caleb,” his breath catches.

He turns around slowly,

And immediately laughs.

A warm, emotional, teary laugh that he tries to bite back with a hand to his face, but it’s useless. His voice cracks halfway through his smile. “You’re actually gonna make me cry like a baby, huh.”

You pout. “What? No heart attack? No dramatic gasping?”

“Oh no, trust me, my heart exploded. You look…” He steps closer, still laughing under his breath, gaze raking over you with open awe. “Baby, you look like something I used to draw in my notebook in class when I was twelve and obsessed with you.”

You giggle. “Oh, so I look cartoonish?”

“No, you look like a dream. Like the one I’ve had on repeat since I was eight.” He pauses. “You remember that, right? When i made Grandma do the fake wedding in the backyard?”

Your eyes light up. “And we used the washing line as an aisle!”

“And I made you say your vows while holding a flower crown I stole from the neighbor’s hedge,” he grins, eyes glimmering. “And I said I’d protect you forever, and never let anyone else marry you.”

“And you made me kiss you on the cheek…Grandma was concerned you were going to faint.”

“Oh, it was worth it.” He takes your hand now, cradling it like something sacred. “Look at you. I knew I was gonna marry you. I manifested this.”

You laugh, squeezing his fingers. “Any last-minute regrets, Colonel?”

He raises a brow, grin sharp. “Regrets? My only regret is not locking you in my room earlier so I could have seen this dress before everyone else.”

You roll your eyes. “Possessive much?”

“Uh-huh.” He pulls you in close now, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re my girl. My forever girl. No backsies.”

You whisper, “You’re not gonna run?”

He scoffs, low and amused. “Run? Baby, I hijacked the shuttle. You’re stuck with me.”

He kisses your cheek, then your ring finger, then the tip of your nose, all while murmuring softly like he’s trying not to sob: “You’re so damn pretty, pipsqueak. You’re so mine. And I’m never letting go.”

[rafayelscutiee]

i can't even find a decent guy to date how am I supposed to find a husband when these men are the standards now💀

[humanjarvis]

zayne edges you the first time he tastes you.

it's not on purpose. it’s just, in all his years in the OR, he's never heard noises quite like this.

the swishes of his tongue around your dripping wet heat. the pop of his mouth teasing your puffy clit. the sultry, silken sighs that escape your lips. 

they’re lewd. all-consuming.

and to be the cause of them…

it makes him a little bit shy.

he can’t keep his pace like this. each time you near your peak, the sounds crescendo, and he’s too flustered to take you over the edge. his movements slow, his licks slacken, and he’s a mumbling mess between your thighs—whispering his disbelief, his luck, his gratitude. he starts and stops and starts again, prolonging your pleasure without even meaning to. 

by the time you start begging, he thinks he’s hurt you somehow—until your fingers tangle in his hair and hold him close to your core, preventing any more pauses. he adds another sound to the mix—a sheepish apology against your slick skin—before finally finishing what he started, only pulling away when your release coats his rosy pink cheeks.

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Sylus loves handmade gifts from you.

The first thing he received from you was the handmade crow pouch from the grasslands. While he doesn’t keep it on his person, he keeps it safe on his nightstand. Hidden enough so Mephisto doesn’t mess with it, but in his view so he can glance at it briefly every night before he shuts his eyes.

Over the course of your relationship together, you’ve given him a small assortment of handmade goodies.

The next being a little card you made for him after a particular mentally draining week for him. When you had talked to him, he seemed very short and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice. So you made him a little pop-up card. It was rather silly, just something to remind him that you’re proud of him and everytime he opens the card, he sees the little colored in flowers jump out from the center. What makes him smile the most is the jagged edged on some of the petals and knowing you spent your time to make it for him.

Another item you made for him was scrapbook of all the dates and adventures you two have shared. Ticket stubs from the wildlife center, photos of you both that had been cut into the shape of a heart, and even the funny drawing you did of him when you were trying to find the brooch. Sylus keeps it tucked away safely by his record collection and dusts it regularly, and will occasionally flip through the pages with a glass of bourbon in his hand.

At first, you were nervous about giving him these types of gifts, but Sylus has reassured you multiple times he loves them. Yes, money can buy a lot of things and Sylus has a lot of it- but when he sees you and your beautiful smile or hears your cute little laugh, he’s reminded that what he has money can’t buy. You.

That’s why he loves these little handmade gifts.

It’s a physical representation of your love and Sylus wants to be drowning in it.

The best gift Sylus received- or took back technically, was a white pocket square of his. He wanted to take you to a nice dinner and the restaurant he had reserved was a 5-star establishment. So he dressed up in a nice suit and bought you a beautiful dress. You had just finished applying your lipstick in his bathroom mirror and reached for the first thing you saw to blot your lips. It just happened to be his pocket square. As soon as you realized what you had done, you apologized profusely and Sylus simply chuckled and folded the material before sticking it in his jacket pocket. Your lipstick print boldly contrasted against the ivory.

Embarrassed and red in the face, you told him you’d have it dry cleaned to get the stain off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“It’s mine, sweetie. I’m going to show everyone tonight that I’m yours.”