#imagine zayn

[zarry-fics]

Surpreendente | Zayn Malik

AVISOS: linguagem agressiva, casamento "forçado", imagine foge um pouco da realidade do Z, violência (não contra a protagonista, calma).

N/A:. Amigas, já faz um tempo que não escrevo nada com o Zayn, espero que vocês gostem disso aqui porque geralmente, imagines com ele as pessoas não curtem muito não. Como deixei nos avisos, esse imagine foge da realidade do Zayn porque trata de um assunto que ocorre muito em livros de romance rss e ele não é famoso aqui <3 Enfim, se quiserem deixar suas opiniões depois também vou ficar muito agradecida! Escrevi com muito carinho para recompensar o sumiço, torcendo p vcs curtirem. 💋

— Senhora, deseja tomar alguma coisa? Remédio, chá... Qualquer coisa. — Moira resmungou olhando para você de uma maneira extremamente preocupada, uma vez que você está enrolada nos lençóis de sua cama há horas, e ao menos deu as caras na sua faculdade.

A dor de cabeça, a tontura e a alta temperatura corporal, juntas, te deixam extremamente frustrada, principalmente por não poder se levantar para tomar um banho devidamente, você sabe que se tentar pode acabar caindo e batendo com a cara no chão.

Além de tudo isso, você não deixa de se sentir magoada com o seu marido. Sim, o Zayn! Ele não se importa com você, já fazem horas que não volta para casa e você sabe que ele está trabalhando, por isso mesmo não se importa contigo. Para ele, o trabalho é muito mais importante.

Vocês são casados há dois anos. Não é muito tempo, mas você se sente sufocada pela falta de atenção dele. Certo... O casamento de vocês foi estritamente contratual. Zayn é um rico empresário e para poder ressuscitar os negócios em sua empresa, ele precisava limpar a imagem de mulherengo e irresponsável que carregava nas costas durante grande parte da sua vida. Com o falecimento de seu pai, ele se viu na obrigação de mudar e casar-se com uma boa moça para mostrar à sociedade que agora é um “homem de família” e para não acabar falindo. Todavia, óbvio, essa ideia veio de seus assessores, porque ele nunca aceitaria algo assim.

Você estudou com ele na adolescência no ensino médio. Por um ano. Um único ano, porque no seguinte acabou perdendo a bolsa que ganhou por falta de notas dignas daquela instituição que estudava. Depois daquele ano, você achou que nunca mais veria o Zayn, mas o destino mais uma vez cruzou ambos os seus caminhos. Por alguma razão desconhecida.

Até hoje, você nunca entendeu como ele chegou até você novamente. Mas para resumir a história, ele simplesmente mandou um de seus assessores ao posto de gasolina que você trabalhava, numa tediosa manhã de quarta-feira e te fez a proposta que lhe trouxe à essa mansão, ao casamento em que está inserida hoje.

Zayn propôs à sua família estabilidade financeira, além de pagar a sua faculdade para que aceitasse se tornar a Sra. Malik; você, claro, aceitou depois de muita insistência e após analisar o cenário caótico que sua família se encontrava, logo após seu pai perder o emprego e por seu salário não cobrir todos os gastos de sua família.

Mas não imaginava que seria tão humilhada. Até porque, desde que se casaram, Zayn não tocou em você. O que, no início, você achou o máximo por jurar que jamais se apaixonaria por ele, que o seu toque não lhe faria a menor falta... Porém, hoje em dia, está fazendo muito e você não aceita se sentir assim, Zayn é o homem mais frio que você conhece.

Atualmente, você não sabe como aguentou por tanto tempo tudo isso. Talvez pela faculdade, você sempre quis cursar medicina e atuar na área como pediatra. É o seu sonho que está se realizando tão agilmente... É essa a razão pela qual você está suportando a frieza e indiferença do Zayn.

Mesmo diante dessa situação, você sabe que acabou quebrando várias das regras do “contrato” de vocês. Regras essas que incluíam, claramente, não se apaixonar ou se interessar um pelo outro, até porque tudo não se passa de uma farsa.

De alguma maneira, no entanto, você interessou pelo seu marido. É isso o que te deixa tão magoada e entristecida.

— Muito obrigada, Moira... Mas eu não estou com vontade de comer ou tomar nada. Estou enjoada! — você resmungou em resposta, sentindo que sua cabeça dói mais à medida que as palavras saem da sua boca.

Moira encarou o monte dentro dos lençóis e suspirou, se aproximando da cama. Temerosa, traumatizada pelas broncas que acaba levando do dono da casa. — Senhora, se me permite insistir... Sei a receita de um chá que combate os sintomas que está sentindo agora. Se tomá-lo, amanhã já estará bem melhor, eu tenho certeza! — ela insistiu mais um pouco, torcendo para que você concorde.

Suspirando, você pensou que talvez seja melhor tentar. Já não aguenta mais estar deitada, é ruim para você. — Tudo bem, Moira. Me traga esse chá, por favor!

Com um sorriso animado, a mulher disse um “ok” e foi correndo preparar o tal chá.

Enquanto estava sozinha, você pensou no seu marido. De novo! Pensou se ele sabia que estava doente, pensou se poderia pelo menos, por um segundo, ter se preocupado contigo, com o seu estado de saúde; até porque, se não estiver bem, não poderá continuar fingindo que é a esposa dele.

Mas você sabia a resposta. De alguma forma, seu interior respondeu àqueles questionamentos de uma maneira dolorosa, mas verdadeira: “Para de ser estúpida. Você sabe que ele não liga”.

Moira voltou rapidamente com uma xícara em mãos. O chá ainda estava parcialmente quente, o que o fazia fumegar dentro do objeto. — Aqui está, senhora. — ela disse, estendendo na sua direção.

Você encarou o líquido dentro da xícara e pelo cheiro não parecia nada bom.... Mas ainda crente na promessa de Moira de que, no dia seguinte você estaria melhor, acabou tomando aquilo rapidamente antes de vomitar no carpete do quarto. — Vou preparar um banho para a senhora. Vai se sentir bem melhor e dormirá bem.

Você permaneceu sentada na sua cama, ponderando sobre assuntos que se resumiam ao moreno tatuado, mas tentava desviar seus pensamentos dele, até porque o mesmo não merecia toda aquela atenção. Você até pensou que ele poderia estar te traindo!

Isso te fez ferver ainda mais, mediante a raiva que sentiu.

— Já está pronto, Sra. Malik! — Moira exclamou e você revirou os olhos.

— Não me chame assim, Moira. Sabe que não me sinto confortável.

— Tudo bem, desculpe. — lamentou — Quer que eu ligue para o seu marido? Posso avisar a ele que-

— Ele ligou para saber sobre mim? — questionou, rígida. A mulher negou. — Então, não é necessário que ligue para ele. O deixe. Não preciso da preocupação dele.

Você disse aquilo mas sabia que estava mentindo. Moira também sabia... Ela percebe muitas coisas entre vocês dois, inclusive o sentimento que você vem alimentando a respeito dele. Mas como sendo apenas uma empregada, sabe que não pode se envolver nos assuntos de seus patrões.

Entrando no banheiro, você tomou banho calmamente, lutando para se manter firme, já que a tontura ainda não havia te abandonado.

• • •

No dia seguinte, tal como Moira prometeu, você acordou bem melhor e se sentiu disposta o suficiente para ir à faculdade. Zayn não deu as caras, e isso te motivou a avisar a Moira que você não voltaria para casa naquele dia, ficaria na casa de uma amiga durante a noite; claro, isso depois de agradecê-la pelo chá que você intitulou “milagroso” por, de fato, ter lhe restaurado as forças.

— Tudo bem, senhora. Tenha um ótimo dia! — foram as suas últimas palavras antes de você sair de casa e entrar no carro do seu marido (este que não estava sendo dirigido por ele, só para constar) e rumar para a sua faculdade.

— Sério que você vai poder dormir lá em casa hoje? Seu marido realmente autorizou? — o tom de choque era evidente na voz de Louisa, que sabia muito bem o tipo de marido que Zayn é.

Mas, ao contrário do que ela pensa, ele jamais te proibiu de se divertir, ou de dormir na casa de quem quer que seja. O que é justo e compreensível, uma vez que ele se importa mais com o cachorro do vizinho do que contigo.

Pelo menos é o que você acha.

— Sim. Ele nunca me proibiu de fazer qualquer coisa! — você respondeu, como se não se importasse com a situação em questão e a sua amiga, inocente, acreditou. Ela admirou o seu casamento por isso.

O dia se passou de uma maneira... Cotidiana. Lógico, uma vez que pensar no Zayn e imaginar uma realidade paralela à sua já se tornou rotina, você se sente mais confortável em imaginar que, se chegasse em casa nesse momento, seu marido iria te cumprimentar educadamente, beijar a sua boca e admitir o quanto sentiu a sua falta. Talvez depois disso ele te convidasse para tomar um banho e transaria contigo loucamente no banheiro.

Bom, você jamais admitiria que pensa dessa forma.

Aliás, o corpo de Zayn sempre foi um mistério para você. Pelo menos por inteiro... Porque você já o viu sem camisa, em inúmeros momentos em que foi pega de surpresa pela imagem dele dessa forma. Você ficou hipnotizada, mas ele ao menos deu atenção a você ou a sua presença. Nem um comentário engraçadinho sobre você estar o secando... Nada.

Quando as aulas terminaram, você dispensou seu motorista para ir a um restaurante com Louisa. Almoçariam juntas e em seguida, iriam para a casa dela, provavelmente encher a cara poucas horas depois do almoço. Esse comentário é o que ela mais fala desde que você aceitou dormir na casa dela por esta noite.

Vocês passaram ótimas horas juntas. Falaram sobre diversos assuntos, de fato beberam até perderem o próprio controle (pelos céus, você estava doente há poucas horas, mas ainda queria arriscar). Se embriagar era a melhor opção para você quando estava sóbria, mas quando já o tinha feito, se arrependeu amargamente por ter começado, uma vez que, com o álcool percorrendo seus vasos sanguíneos, você pensava ainda mais no seu marido estúpido e em como gostaria que ele... Olhasse, gostasse de você.

Da mesma forma que você começou a gostar dele.

Mas que porra, isso é um absurdo! Mas como você poderia estar morando há dois anos sob o mesmo teto que um homem como o Zayn e não se apaixonar? É meio improvável.

E como isso se iniciou você ao menos sabe... O que é uma droga. Você ainda tem esperança que um dia supere tudo aquilo. Talvez quando concluir a faculdade e finalmente poder se desvincular de Zayn Malik e de tudo o que o envolve.

As horas foram se passando e você só se lembra de sua amiga capotando no sofá de sua sala, afirmando que não estava mais aguentando permanecer de pé.

• • •

Um cheiro muito forte de cigarro inundou seus sentidos e você fez uma careta, se perguntando quando Louisa começara a fumar, até porque ela sempre detestou cigarros e tudo o que tem haver com eles. — Mas que porra! — resmungou ao se levantar (ainda com os olhos fechados), mediante a pontada que sentiu na cabeça. — Louisa, que merda! Apaga essa droga de cigarro!

— Eu não sabia que você era uma alcoólatra, S/N. — ao ouvir a voz dele, você abriu os olhos no mesmo instante, por causa do susto.

Olhou para ele e o viu sentado numa poltrona, bem de frente para ti. Você analisou com cuidado o local onde estava e percebeu estar deitada num sofá, no escritório dele.

Mas não acreditou que aquela cena era verdadeira... Desconfiou que tudo aquilo se tratava de uma alucinação. Talvez tenha bebido demais. — Sai da minha cabeça. — você ordenou, passando as mãos pelos cabelos incansáveis vezes. Até massageou o próprio couro cabeludo, na esperança de se curar da dor de cabeça que sente.

Zayn bufou, ao mesmo tempo que revirava os olhos. Se levantou e pegou um copo de água que havia em sua mesa, e jogou dentro do mesmo uma aspirina. — Além de ser uma bêbada, também é doida? Pelo amor de Deus. — ele entregou o copo em suas mãos e você até pensou em negar e não beber, mas pelo olhar que ele te lançou, você sabia que não poderia recusar. Não tinha opções.

As coisas pareciam estar ficando cada vez mais reais.

— Eu não estava aqui. Quem me trouxe? — perguntou, ácida.

— Você ainda pergunta? — indagou de volta, quase sem esperar você terminar de falar. — Fui eu quem te trouxe.

— Eu não pedi. Você não pode se envolver nos meus assuntos desse jeito. — mesmo sendo grossa, Zayn a ignorou completamente.

— Claro que eu posso. Sou o seu marido. Ou você se esqueceu disso?

— Nosso casamento é uma grande mentira e você sabe muito bem que não deve se basear nisso para justificar seu comportamento tóxico. — ele já tinha virado as costas para colocar de volta o copo na mesa, mas voltou a te olhar. Com uma sobrancelha arqueada.

— Qual a porra do sobrenome que está nos seus documentos de identificação? — questionou, duramente. Ele não desviava o olhar do seu e você sentiu sua pele arrepiando.

— Isso n-

— O meu sobrenome está na tua identificação, caralho. Isso quer dizer que eu sou o seu marido e tenho autoridade para ir te buscar e dizer que você não devia ter dormido fora de casa.

— Você faz isso o tempo inteiro, Zayn. Por que eu não posso fazer? Eu só estava me divertindo com a minha amiga, já me cansei de estar presa nesta casa, não aguento mais viver assim! — respondeu num tom cansado, falava mais alto para demonstrar a sua indignação que não passou despercebida por ele.

— Eu tenho estado muito ocupado no meu trabalho, S/N. Você sabe disso. Independente de qualquer coisa, quando chego em casa quero que esteja aqui. — ele falou e foi então que te deu as costas mais uma vez.

— Você é a merda de um hipócrita, não tem o direito de me tratar desse jeito, quando tudo o que você mais tem feito durante esse tempo que estamos casados é me tratar como se eu fosse um lixo. Não seja ridículo, Zayn. Você me prende nesta casa, não posso sair sem um motorista e ainda fala como se se importasse comigo?

— O problema é você sair com o motorista? Tudo bem, pode sair sem ele. É só escolher a merda de um carro na garagem, eu não me importo! Mas não te quero dormindo na casa de ninguém, principalmente daquela tua amiga! Ela tem um tarado morando com ela e eu não quero você perto daquele cara!

Ele se referiu a Tom, o irmão mais novo de Louisa. — O quê? Ele é irmão dela!

— Não quero saber, S/N. Você é uma mulher casada, a minha mulher! Eu exijo que você me respeite e nunca mais vá dormir na casa de qualquer pessoa sem me avisar.

Você ficou sem acreditar naquelas palavras tão duras. Simplesmente se levantou e saiu andando, sem sequer olhar para trás.

Zayn foi bruto nas palavras, estava agindo movido pelos ciúmes e a raiva que sentiu quando entrou na casa de Louisa e flagrou Tom checando se você estava bem, até porque havia capotado no sofá e já não reagira. O garoto estava sendo inocente nas suas ações, mas seu marido não enxergou a situação desse jeito.

Nos dias que se passaram, vocês dois não se falaram. Mas uma chave apareceu na cômoda ao lado de sua cama e quando você chegou na garagem para saber a qual carro aquela chave pertencia, notou que Zayn havia te dado permissão para dirigir a sua Porsche Panamera, um dos carros mais lindos que estão na garagem.

Seu queixo foi ao chão.

S/N pov

Não entendi a razão pela qual Zayn realmente me deixou dirigir aquele carro divino. Mas eu não pensei muito... Talvez devesse ser orgulhosa numa situação como essa e não aceitar dirigir um carro dele, mas não conseguia. Seria boba demais se o fizesse.

Destravei-o e entrei. Encarei aquele painel e mesmo estando um pouco nervosa, me atrevi a ligá-lo e dar partida até a minha faculdade.

A princípio, eu me dei bem. Sai do condomínio do Zayn e com bastante cuidado e atenção, segui pelo caminho muito conhecido por mim. Parei no primeiro, no segundo e no terceiro sinal. Tudo parecia estar fluindo muito bem, até eu chegar no quarto sinal... O último antes de chegar na faculdade, só para constar.

Foi aí que um carro entrou na rodovia na contramão. Ele fez uma curva para, ao que parece, tentar dar a volta mas não deu tempo... Bateu na lateral do carro do Zayn, o que me fez rodopiar na pista até que batesse num muro. Minha cabeça bateu com muita força no vidro, e eu até gritei pelo susto.

Um barulho muito alto consegui ouvir, mas com certeza foi a lataria do carro amassando ao entrar em contato com o muro, com tamanha força. Meu coração estancou dentro do peito e eu só conseguia pensar no que Zayn falaria pra mim depois de saber o que eu fiz.

— Tem alguém lá dentro! — eu ouvi alguém gritando do lado de fora, passados alguns momentos.

Mesmo tonta, eu abri a porta do carro e saí andando, me apoiando nele pois sabia que poderia cair se tentasse me equilibrar. — Oh, meu Deus! Você ‘tá bem, moça? — a mesma voz me perguntou, e eu olhei na direção do som, percebendo se tratar de um homem..

— Não muito, eu... Ah, que droga! — fiquei muito mais nervosa e trêmula quando olhei a situação do carro.

Jesus Cristo, o Zayn vai acabar comigo.

— Calma, moça. Já chamamos a ambulância! — ouvi outra pessoa murmurar.

Recebi a atenção devida até que a polícia chegasse. Logo, eles vieram falar comigo e alguns outros foram falar com o engraçadinho que bateu em mim. — Senhora, tem alguém com quem possamos entrar em contato? — perguntou-me uma policial.

— Tem o meu marido, mas não quero que ligue pra ele, não. — respondi, já o imaginando me falando coisas horríveis.

— Como assim? — ela me perguntou, sem entender.

Foram se juntando algumas pessoas em volta do carro, algumas até gravavam. Tudo isso só aumentava o meu nervosismo. Pouco tempo depois, os policiais afastaram os curiosos e isolaram a área, mas eu ainda não conseguia me sentir bem.

Eu não precisei nem explicar para a policial o porquê eu não queria que ligasse para o Zayn naquele momento, porque a droga do carro dele estacionou ali perto e eu nem precisei de muito esforço para reconhecê-lo. — Cadê a minha mulher? — ele gritou com um policial e simplesmente veio andando em minha direção. Sua expressão não estava nada boa. — Quem foi o infeliz que fez isso com ela?

Ele olhou para o rapaz e foi na direção dele como a droga de um foguete. — Escuta aqui seu irresponsável de merda, eu vou acabar com a sua vida! Você poderia ter matado a minha mulher, seu infeliz!

— Senhor, peço que se acalme-

— Me acalmar? Esse desgraçado tentou matar a minha esposa e você ainda me pede pra ter calma? — ele não estava conseguindo se controlar. E o pior, eu não conseguia nem me mover porque estava apavorada, sabia que ele iria surtar comigo. Porra, esse carro deve valer o meu corpo no mercado ilegal, a primeira vez que coloquei as minhas mãos nele já o destruí. Ele teria total razão em me matar por isso.

Os policiais o seguraram e pediam a todo instante para que ele se acalmasse, já que estava querendo avançar no rapaz que claramente está alcoolizado. A situação dele não está das melhores.

Precisei me aproximar e tocar nele, tentando chamar a sua atenção. — Zayn, por favor... Se acalme. — eu pedi, baixinho. Apertei o braço dele e isso bastou para que ele me olhasse. — Me desculpa, eu deveria ter prestado mais atenção, sei que o seu carro-

Minha tentativa de explicação foi interrompida quando ele me agarrou, me abraçando apertado. O primeiro abraço que ele me dá, em dois anos de casamento... E ele simplesmente me apertou com bastante força, como se eu fosse escorregar pelos seus braços.

Jesus, o que está acontecendo aqui?

— Meu Deus, não imagina o quanto fiquei preocupado. Você está bem? — ele perguntava, enquanto analisava o meu corpo. Até que olhou para a minha cabeça e deve ter visto o pequeno corte que se fez mediante o impacto no vidro.

— Eu... Eu tô bem-

— Eu vou matar esse infeliz. Esse bastardo vai pagar muito caro-

— Se acalma, eu... Eu estou bem. Foi um acidente, Zayn.

Ainda não consigo acreditar que estamos tendo essa interação e que ele, está pelo menos fingindo que se importa comigo. — Não. Ele causou isso e vai pagar. — ditas essas palavras, ele se afastou de mim e dessa vez, não o conseguiram impedir de chegar perto do rapaz.

Zayn deu um soco na sua boca, o que o fez se desequilibrar e cair de bunda no chão. — Você vai custear o meu carro, todos os danos causados. Não quero saber como vai fazer isso, mas a conta de tudo o que você estragou vai estar chegando na sua casa hoje mesmo. E se não quiser que eu acabe com a sua raça você vai pagar tudo, caralho! Tudo!

Meu marido ligou para um de seus assessores e conversou com o mesmo por algum tempo. Assim que desligou a ligação, não demorou muito para que este estivesse ali também. Zayn só o chamou para dar continuidade à resolução daquele problema, pois logo veio até mim. — Vamos embora, você precisa ir ao hospital.

Dito isso, ele colocou seu braço sobre meu ombro e me guiou até o seu carro, tão bonito quanto aquela Porsche. — Não quero. Eu quero ir embora, me leva pra casa, por favor. — não me sinto mal, eu só quero poder me enfurnar no quarto e tentar me recuperar.

Ele realmente iria embora. — E o carro? — me arrisquei a perguntar, ainda com o rosto queimando de vergonha.

— Não se preocupe, Sam vai cuidar disso para mim. — respondeu ele, sério.

Ao abrir a porta do carro pra mim, também entrou e então deu partida até a sua casa. — Não vai brigar comigo? Eu peguei aquele carro pela primeira vez e já o destruí.

Ele me olhou com uma sobrancelha arqueada.

— Está esperando que eu brigue com você pelo quê exatamente, S/N? — indagou, mas não ficou me encarando por muito tempo, focou na pista à nossa frente.

— Eu bati o seu carro. — repeti, sem acreditar que ele não vai brigar comigo.

— Bateram em você. — corrigiu.

— Mas-

— Para de bobeira, S/N. Eu não vou brigar com você, por que raios faria isso?

Eu não sabia o que dizer. Ele nunca agiu desse jeito, era muito inacreditável para mim. Só fiquei em silêncio, e Zayn também não tentou conversar mais.

Chegamos em casa e ele estacionou o seu carro. Na garagem. Ainda vestia suas roupas de trabalho, claro que ele saiu correndo para checar o que tinha acontecido, é por isso que eu fico ainda com mais vergonha.

Pelos céus. Nunca mais coloco as minhas mãos nos carros deste homem; na verdade, os motoristas não me incomodam.

— Está com dor de cabeça? Precisa de algum remédio? — perguntou ele, ao estacionar. Só desligou o veículo e voltou a sua atenção totalmente para mim.

— Não.

— Claro que precisa. — ele rebateu — Eu ainda acho que vou te levar ao médico. Não confio em você.

— Eu estou bem, já disse. — reafirmei. Já estava sem graça demais por tudo o que aconteceu, sendo assim, abri a porta do carro para sair dali. — Enfim, obrigada por ter ido lá me buscar e... Bem, por não brigar comigo. Eu realmente não fiz por querer, Zayn. — ao falar assim, eu realmente saí do veículo.

Não olhei nem para trás, mas ele veio atrás de mim. — Eu quero cuidar de você, S/N. — ele disse do nada, me assustando. Fiquei simplesmente sem reação, meus pés travaram no chão. Não consegui andar mais, nem ao menos me virar para ele.

— O que? — perguntei, desacreditada.

— Você me ouviu. Eu não posso deixar você desse jeito. Você acabou de sofrer um acidente, preciso ficar de olho em você. — repetiu. Pela forma como falava, eu senti que ele também estava sem jeito e eu, pior ainda.

Finalmente me virei para olhar em seus olhos e vi na expressão dele como estava atordoado. E não é pra menos... Zayn é tão frio e orgulhoso, para mim é uma grande surpresa tudo o que aconteceu hoje. Preciso de um tempo para digerir tudo isso.

— Não precisa se preocupar, obrigada.

— Será que dá pra você sair da defensiva? Eu só quero ajudar. Porra, S/N. Colabora aí.

Percebi que ele estava disposto a me infernizar até eu dar o braço a torcer. E além disso, também estava completamente sem graça; sendo assim, eu não me opus mais. Fiquei quieta. Zayn, mais uma vez me surpreendeu... Ele me pegou no colo e me levou até o nosso quarto.

No caminho, dei de cara com Moira. Ela estava nos olhando em completo choque. — Você precisa de um banho. — afirmou ao me deixar sentada na cama.

Como se eu fosse uma criança. Ele me ajudou a tirar as roupas, preparou um banho quente para mim e me ajudou com as feridas em minha cabeça. O toque dele era delicado, muito cuidadoso. Eu jamais admitiria em voz alta, mas eu esperei por tanto tempo por isso; a paixão que eu alimentei por esse homem nesses anos em que estamos casados é o que faz o meu coração acelerar tanto por tê-lo tão pertinho de mim, e ainda mais, me cuidando desse jeito que eu jamais imaginei que aconteceria.

Eu sinto que estou sonhando.

Me senti uma inválida quando ele me ajudou até a deitar na cama e ajeitou os travesseiros atrás de mim. Zayn ficou com o rosto bem próximo do meu. Beijou a minha testa com os olhos fechados e, sem se afastar, ele sussurrou:

— Me perdoe, S/N. Me perdoe por ser tão estúpido com você durante todo esse tempo.

[little-big-fan]

Imagine com Zayn Malik

Addiction

N\a: Em minha defesa, eu não escrevo só putaria, são vocês que pedem KKKKKKKKK Enfim, eu PRECISAVA ESCREVERUMA PUTARIA COM O ZAYN DEPOIS DAS MENSAGENS DELE VAZAREM (no pedido, queriam um soft hot, mas eu não sei se consegui fazer issoKKKKKKKK)

Situação: !garoto de programa!x Zayn Malik x !Cliente! Leitora

Contagem de palavras: 2,507

Avisos: +18; linguagem sexual explícita

“Transferência feita” Era o que a mensagem de S\N dizia. Suspirei, sem deixar de me sentir culpado. 

Faziam pelo menos três meses que a estrangeira pagava pelos meus “serviços”, mas nunca realmente utilizou deles. 

Tudo começou quando a garota perdeu uma aposta durante uma festa da universidade, e foi desafiada a chamar um garoto de programa. Como uma das presentes já era minha cliente, não exitou em fazer a indicação. 

O que eu não esperava era o rosto vermelho e o inglês gaguejado que me esperava. S\N era virgem, e os idiotas com quem estavam se acharam no direito de brincar sobre aquilo, colocando-a naquela situação. 

Ofereci apenas ficar no quarto e sair de lá dizendo que aconteceu, o que a deixou mais tranquila. 

Como precisávamos ficar tempo o suficiente para que acreditassem, passamos a conversar. O assunto fluía tão perfeitamente entre nós dois que as duas horas passaram que perceb��ssemos, saindo do nosso mundinho quando meu celular despertou. 

Uma semana depois, ela me chamou novamente. Estava bêbada e chorando. Disse que se sentia sozinha e que precisava de alguém para conversar. 

Desde lá, nossos encontros começaram a ficar frequentes, e nem sempre era ela quem dava o primeiro passo. Mais de uma vez, me vi negando serviço para poder sair em uma tarde tranquila e assistir um filme qualquer, ou apenas passar a madrugada conversando sobre todo e qualquer assunto. 

O que me incomodava era o fato de ela sempre pagar. Mesmo quando eu negava. Ela vinha com um papo de “você poderia estar trabalhando e está aqui perdendo tempo comigo” e então simplesmente fazia a transferência. 

Isso fazia eu me sentir um grande idiota. Gostava do nosso tempo juntos e me sentia péssimo em receber por aquilo.

— Olá, querida. — Falei quando a porta foi aberta. — Feliz aniversário. — Estendi o pacote. S\N arregalou os olhos grandes, o vermelho atingindo suas bochechas de forma encantadora.

— Z, não precisava. — Murmurou envergonhada. 

— Precisava sim! Abre logo. — Brinquei, empurrando seus ombros para poder entrar no apartamento. 

Era o aniversário de 23 anos de S\N, data que ela geralmente passava sozinha desde que saiu do Brasil. Tirei a noite inteira de folga, ignorando os apelos da dona da boate em que costumava ficar, já que era final de semana. 

Pendurei minha jaqueta no cabideiro e caminhei até a sala. Havia uma caixa de pizza fechada sobre a mesinha e uma garrafa de vinho.

A garota sentou no sofá, abrindo o papel decorado com cuidado e mais uma vez arregalando os olhos. 

— Zayn! Meu Deus, eu não posso aceitar. — Estendeu o tablet de desenho em minha direção. 

— É seu. 

— Isso é caro demais. — Negou com a cabeça. 

— Não importa o valor, é seu aniversário e você não pode negar o presente. — Ela fez um biquinho, encarando o presente com olhinhos brilhantes antes de me olhar mais uma vez. 

— Obrigada, eu amei. 

Boa parte da pizza já havia sido consumida, assim como uma garrafa inteira de vinho. Estávamos sentados os dois no chão, bebendo a segunda. Rindo de alguma coisa aleatória e ouvindo uma música qualquer que tocava. 

— Por que sempre fica sozinha no seu aniversário? 

— Ah… — Suspirou, bebendo mais um gole do líquido roxo. — Não gosto muito de festas. 

— Nos conhecemos em uma. — A olhei de lado. 

— E olha o que aconteceu. — Deu de ombros. 

— Está reclamando? — Belisquei sua bochecha, o que a fez rir alto.

— Não! Mas foi desconfortável… e quando eles descobriram sobre minha virgindade me obrigaram a ligar para um gp, minha sorte é que era você. 

— Acho que eu quem tive sorte aquele dia. — Divaguei. 

— Zayn? — Ela chamou depois de ficarmos algum tempinho em silêncio. 

— Hum? 

— Você me acha bonita? — Franzi o cenho, virando para olhá-la. 

— Claro que sim. 

— Quero que seja sincero. Você me acha bonita? — Talvez fosse o efeito do vinho, mas encarei seu rosto com atenção. 

S\N não era bonita. Era absolutamente linda. 

Seus olhos eram grandes e brilhantes, capazes de lerem a minha alma com uma facilidade assustadora. Suas bochechas estavam vermelhas pelo vinho, assim como os lábios cheios e bem desenhados. 

— Esquece… — Ela suspirou, sorrindo envergonhada. 

— Eu acho você linda. — Ela me encarou. — Você é absurdamente linda. 

— Nós… somos amigos? — Perguntou temerosa. 

— É claro que sim, S\N. — Vi como seu corpo se aproximou mais do meu no sofá, sentindo meu coração bater mais forte dentro do peito.

— Posso fazer um pedido estranho? — Assenti, imerso na imensidão de seus olhos. — Eu quero… quero… — Ela suspirou, nervosa. — Quero perder a virgindade. 

— O que? — Engasguei. 

— Não me faça repetir. — Resmungou. 

— De onde saiu isso? Alguém falou algo a você de novo? 

— Não. Eu quero. 

— Você deveria esperar a pessoa certa, S\N, alguém especial. 

— Você é especial, Zayn. E eu não consigo pensar em ninguém melhor do que você. 

— Você tem certeza? — Perguntei, sem saber se queria que ela dissesse sim ou não. S\N prendeu o lábio inferior entre os dentes e assentiu de leve. 

Como a porra de um adolescente, prestes a tocar uma garota pela primeira vez, segurei seu queixo com os dedos. 

S\N fechou os olhos, deixando os lábios convidativos entre abertos. Observei suas feições perfeitas antes. A forma como seus cílios compridos enfeitavam os olhos fechados, o vermelho de suas bochechas a deixando ainda mais linda, quase como uma aparência angelical de tão inocente. 

Deixei que a vontade me dominasse, e toquei sua boca com a minha. 

Tentei ser o mais delicado possível, mesmo que tudo dentro de mim lutasse contra isso. Mas meu autocontrole se esvaiu quase por inteiro quando a ponta da língua doce tocou meu lábio inferior. 

Segurei sua nuca, empurrando a língua contra a sua e me embebedando ainda mais com o gosto de vinho. 

S/N suspirou, abrindo ainda mais a boca. 

Desci os beijos por seu pescoço, lambendo sua pele e sentindo seu cheiro. Ela não era do tipo extremamente vaidosa, nunca passava perfume demais. Deixando apenas o cheiro do sabonete e de sua própria essência para me enlouquecer ainda mais. 

As mãos pequenas agarraram meus ombros, apertando o tecido da camiseta entre os dedos. 

Sua pele arrepiava a cada novo toque, totalmente entregue a mim. 

Enfiei as mãos por baixo do moletom cinza, segurando sua cintura com força. A garota jogou a cabeça para trás, com os olhos fechados, revelando ainda mais o pescoço agora avermelhado pelos meus beijos. 

— Você tem certeza? — Perguntei uma última vez, me agarrando ao máximo ao último fio de autocontrole. 

— Tenho. Eu quero você, Zayn. — Puxei seu corpo para ficar sobre o meu, me erguendo em seguida. — O que está fazendo? 

— Sua primeira vez não vai ser em um sofá. — Voltei a tomar sua boca, caminhando em passos cegos até a porta que sabia que era do seu quarto. 

Nunca havia entrado lá, mas o cômodo combinava perfeitamente com a dona. 

Deitei S/N sobre a cama arrumada, espalhando seus cabelos sobre o travesseiro. 

A luz que entrava pela porta aberta e um pequeno abajur em sua mesa de estudo eram o suficiente para iluminar o ambiente. 

Nos encaramos por alguns segundos, com a respiração irregular pela ansiedade. 

Tirei os tênis de seus pés, junto com as meias. E depois me livrei dos meus. Subi na cama, indo devagar em sua direção. 

Segurei a barra do moletom e S/N ergueu os braços para ajudar a tirar. 

O sutiã branco combinava perfeitamente com sua pele imaculada. 

Distribuí beijos molhados, me deliciando com os gemidos e suspiros baixos que escapavam de sua boca. 

Beijei sua barriga, ao lado do umbigo antes de puxar para baixo a calça que combinava com o moletom. 

Precisei fechar os olhos com força ao ver a mancha molhada em meio à renda branca. 

Mesmo vestindo roupas íntimas, a garota parecia um anjo, e eu estava prestes a corrompê-la. 

— Eu quero ver você. — Ela sussurrou. 

Puxei a camiseta por trás, jogando para algum canto e sentindo meus músculos tensionarem enquanto seus olhos passeavam pela minha pele. Ela ajoelhou na cama, e com o indicador dedilhou as tatuagens do meu peito. 

— Você gosta? — Perguntei baixo. 

— São lindas. — Ela sorri. 

Ataco sua boca, com fome. 

Sem me conter, passo as mãos pela pele quente, querendo manter em minha memória cada parte daquele corpo que parecia desenhado para mim. 

Levei os dedos até o fecho de seu sutiã, deixando que a peça escorregasse em seus braços. 

Os bicos durinhos e rosados me encaravam, pedindo por atenção. Rolei a língua por cima de um deles, sorrindo ao ouvir um praguejar baixinho fugir de sua boca. 

Nunca fui do tipo viciado em seios. Gostava de todos os tipos. Mas, porra, eu poderia passar o resto da minha vida sugando os seios dessa mulher apenas para vê-la como veio agora. 

Ainda com a boca contra sua pele, empurrei seu corpo com cuidado para que voltasse a deitar. 

Toquei com a ponta dos dedos em seu centro, soltando um palavrão ao sentir o quão molhada e quente ela estava. 

Puxei a calcinha para fora de seu corpo, e ela fechou as pernas, ficando com o rosto ainda mais vermelho.

— Não se esconda de mim, linda. — Pedi, deixando um carinho por suas pernas. Ela não demonstrou resistência quando tentei abrí-las. Beijei suas coxas, e praticamente rosnei quando o cheiro de sua feminilidade preencheu minhas narinas. — Eu quero que relaxe. — Sussurrei. Com uma calma que não tinha, passei a língua por sua extensão. — Porra. — Grunhi. 

S\N conseguia ser doce por todos os lugares. 

Eu não faço sexo oral com clientes, a possibilidade de pegar uma doença é absurda. Mas a vontade de chupar essa garota era tanta que estava me consumindo completamente. 

Suguei o clitóris inchado com gentileza, ouvindo-a murmurar coisas sem sentido e empurrar mais a cintura em minha direção. 

Me perdi em seu gosto, nas sensações que corriam por meu corpo cada vez que ela gemia e se entregava ainda mais. 

Puxei uma das mãos pequenas até o meu cabelo, e sorrindo quando ela os puxou sem nenhum temor. 

Sua respiração ficava cada vez mais acelerada e ela ficava inquieta. Estava perto e não sabia como lidar com isso. 

Segurei sua coxas, mantendo-a no lugar e me empenhei em fazê-la se sentir bem. 

Meu pau implorava dentro da calça e eu podia sentir a cueca úmida pelo pré-gozo. 

S\N explodiu em um orgasmo, chamando meu nome. 

Estendi um pouco mais suas reações, sem afastar minha boca, recebendo de bom grado todo o mel que escorria. 

Quando fiquei de pé, abaixando a calça e a cueca, vi como ela suspirou, mordendo o lábio. Era como a visão do paraíso pra mim. Os cabelos revoltos espalhados pela cama, o corpo suado e a expressão de prazer ainda presente em seu rosto. 

Ainda com os olhos cravados aos seus, rasguei o papel laminado da camisinha e a estiquei. 

S\N lambeu os lábios e preencheu meus pensamentos com imagens suas, ajoelhada na minha frente e me engolindo. 

Respirei fundo, afastando a fantasia e subindo na cama. 

— Eu não prometo que não vá doer. — Comecei a falar baixinho, espalhando sua lubrificação com a minha glande, soltando um palavrão em seguida. — Mas vou fazer você se sentir bem, okay? — Ela assentiu rápido. — Quero que me diga se não gostar de algo, tudo bem? — Mais uma vez, ela assentiu. 

Baixei meu corpo sobre o seu, segurando o rosto pequeno em uma mão para que ela me encarasse. S\N abriu a boca em um “O” quando empurrei, com lentidão. Suas sobrancelhas se franziram e a respiração ficou entrecortada. Prendi o lábio inferior com força, sentindo o quão apertada e quente ela era. 

Fui um pouco mais e ela levou as mãos até meus ombros, me fazendo parar no mesmo segundo. Ficar parado estava me matando e meu pau ficava ainda mais duro a cada segundo. Deixei beijinhos em seus lábios até que ela relaxasse em meus braços e investi mais uma vez, rompendo a barreira de sua inocência. 

S\N soltou uma lamúria, e eu voltei a beijá-la. Beijei suas bochechas, apagando as lágrimas solitárias que tentou escorrer, beijei sua testa, seu nariz, seu queixo e sua boca.  

Arrisquei me mover, indo devagar. 

S\N fechou os olhos com força e puxou o ar. 

— Quer que eu pare? — Falei preocupado.

— Não, não. — Negou. — Isso é bom. — Investi um pouco mais forte. — Oh, meu deus… — Apertou meus ombros. 

Não consegui conter o sorriso. Ela não estava daquela forma por sentir dor, e sim prazer. 

Lambi seu pescoço, começando a me mover em um ritmo mais lento. O prazer corria em minhas veias. Segurei um dos seios que cabiam perfeitamente em minha palma, apertando o mamilo com as pontas dos dedos. 

— Zayn… — Resmungou, me enlouquecendo ainda mais. 

— Me diga o que quer, linda? — Sussurrei beijando seu queixo em seguida. 

— Mais rápido, por favor. — Murmurou, escondendo o rosto em meu pescoço. 

— Você não precisa ter vergonha de me dizer o que quer, S\N. — Beijei seus cabelos e a fiz deitar novamente. Segurei uma das suas coxas com força, aumentando o ritmo drasticamente, mas ainda tomando cuidado. A garota revirou os olhos. — Assim, amor? 

— Porra, sim. Isso é bom. — Sua resposta fez o monstro dentro de mim se sentir orgulhoso. 

Ajoelhei na cama, puxando sua cintura para que a bunda redondinha ficasse sobre as minhas coxas. A garota me encarou com curiosidade e eu não consegui evitar o sorriso malicioso. 

Entrei de uma vez, indo mais fundo pela posição, o que a fez engasgar. 

Meti com calma algumas vezes, deixando com que ela acostumasse á nova posição. E então voltei para o ritmo anterior, batendo meu corpo contra o seu e causando estalos pelo quarto. 

Queria vê-la perder o controle. 

Coloquei a língua para fora, lubrificando meus dedos antes de descer a mão e acariciar o clitóris sensível. 

S\N gritou. Ela colocou os braços sobre o rosto, gemendo meu nome sem parar. Seus seios balançavam conforme minhas investidas e ela choramingava cada vez que eu ritmava o carinho em seu ponto sensível com as metidas do meu pau. 

Senti seu canal ficar ainda mais estreito, vi como a camada fina de suor deixava seu corpo ainda mais lindo, como se ela brilhasse. 

S\N sussurrou meu nome uma última vez antes de me estrangular com a boceta e convulsionar a minha volta, me obrigando a gozar junto com ela. 

Ainda sentindo seu aperto, deixei meu corpo cair para a frente. Beijei sua boca e seu rosto, estranhando o sentimento que começava a encher meu peito. 

Eu não dormia com clientes. Eu ia embora assim que terminava tudo. 

Mas depois de carregar a garota até o banheiro e fazer questão de banhar seu corpo, deitei ao seu lado na cama. 

Ela sorria abertamente, fazendo meu coração pular cada vez que fazia isso. 

Eu estava fodido. 

Como ia tocar o corpo de outra mulher depois do que acabou de acontecer? 

Eu não conseguiria, sabia disso. 

“estou fora” 

Foi tudo que digitei para a dona da boate antes de encaixar meu rosto na nuca da minha garota e puxar seu corpo para encaixar no meu.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @cachinhos-de-harry / @nihstyles / @lanavelstommo / @say-narry

Comentários e opiniões sempre me ajudam a continuar a escrever! Espero muito que tenham gostado desse imagine <3 Estava morrendo de saudade de vocês!

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] say it again

LIs react when you say their name, but not the one you usually call them by. (They love it. SO much.)

Genre: Fluff, TW: suggestiveness

(Note: HC all the LADS men are at least bilingual/trilingual for work purposes or just bc they've lived long enough)

SYLUS

The rain hits the glass panels like a scatter of beads, the curtains of dense raindrops draping over the N109 zone late at night.

Seeing that it is a slow night for Sylus, you decide to try your idea out.

His glass of whiskey pauses halfway to his lips when you pronounce "Qín Chè" with perfect inflection.

The ice cubes clink as he slowly sets it down.

"Now that," he purrs, rising from his chair with a predatory grace, "is a dangerous thing to know."

In your next breath, he appears in a cloud of black-red mist, leaning down to you with a hand in his pocket.

"Did you research me that thoroughly? Or..." His breath ghosts your ear, "have you been hiding secrets?"

When you admit to practicing, he chuckles. "Even more dangerous. Now I'll have to teach you all the ways I want to hear my name...in private."

And so you learn, saying his name like a prayer while his lips graze over your neck and his arms keep you pressed close to him. Soon, your attempts are swallowed by his hungry kisses, and lost between stuttered breaths.

The next night, he makes you do it all over again.

_____

XAVIER

The way back home is quiet, crowds dwindling quickly after dinner hours in the dreary weather. It's still drizzling, but you're under a covered walkway for this stretch of the walk.

There's a comfortable silence between you and Xavier, and you decide to test something out.

"Shěn Xīnghuí," you say softly, watching the light reflect in his widened eyes like stars.

"You...know." The way he says it makes you realize this isn't just about language- you've spoken a name he thought he'd never hear you say in this lifetime.

He takes both your hands, holding them delicately as he moves closer to you. "Say it again," he whispers.

You repeat his name, louder this time. The night suddenly feels sacred as the syllables hang between you.

He doesn't speak, only brushes his thumb lightly over your knuckles as he looks at you the way a stargazer would observe a meteor shower.

Then you feel the slightest squeeze on your hands.

“Let's head back quickly,” he says, moving to keep a hand on your waist on the way home. He turns to press a quick kiss to your temple. “Now that I know you can say my name this way… I won't let you stop at just saying it twice.”

_____

ZAYNE

When you pass by the reception desk at the cardiology ward, You wave to the nurses on your way in and greet Zayne in a sing-song voice.

It's a phrase you practiced, over and over in front of a mirror.

“Lí Shēn, I'm here~ I'll just leave your lunchbox on the table,”

His gaze snaps to you.

The receptionist nurse freezes as their usually unflappable chief surgeon stares at you like you've grown a second head.

"...That pronunciation is very precise," he finally says, clicking his pen shut and taking some charts from the shelf.

Later, in his office, he has you trapped against the table. He's careful not to make noise, his steps slow and deliberate until the back of your legs are pressed up against the cool wooden surface.

"Who taught you that?" He asks quietly.

You blink. He seems almost too calm- like he's trying hard not to let something irritate him. Something is simmering in his gaze, but it's one of those times where you can't quite place your finger on what it is.

“Well- I remember knowing you had a different name, but I just never actually asked you about it even after all this time-” You explain, “It came up when I went over the university alumnae list-”

“Are you a personal investigator now?” He says, inching even closer to you.

“I was just… sorry, I shouldn't have called you by another name in the hospital,”

He exhales, the hint of a smile gracing his sharp features. “No- don't apologize, my love. I have no reason to be unhappy-” When he wraps his arms around you, the tension in your cautious stance melts into familiar warmth.

The slightly coarse fabric of his doctor's coat rubs against your face, but you snuggle closer.

“-However,” he continues, voice low, “My private investigator, I can't let you leave just yet.”

He keeps you locked in place with a hand around your waist. “I have five minutes until my ward round. If you're ever going to say my name like that again..." His lips brush yours, "you'll do it where I can properly appreciate it."

_____

RAFAYEL

The name you learned isn't Lemurian- it's something you came across in a luxury-lifestyle magazine interview done years ago that lay forgotten inside one of his storage crates. You had gone to your friend and asked them to help with the pronunciation, and practiced till you could say it naturally within conversations.

"Qí Yù! Is this a new piece of artwork?" You call across the studio.

"Yeah it- WHAT DID YOU JUST-?!" He leaps over the couch.

"Say that again," he demands, gripping your shoulders.

When you repeat it with a grin, he gasps.

"You've been holding out on me! Oh, you say my name so wonderfully," He gushes with a smile so dazzling it would put the glittering sunset ocean to shame.

"Wait." He squints. "Did Thomas teach you? I'LL KILL HIM-"

You have to physically restrain him from storming off, and his arm almost slips between your grip.

“Rafayel! No, it's just me- I read in an old interview that you had a different name and-”

“So you've been reading about me- when you can just ask me anything?” He pouts.

You blink. “How would I even begin to know you have different names?”

He puts his hands on his hips, seemingly acknowledging an impasse.

Then he sighs and opens his arms wide. “Come here, cutie,”

His scent envelopes you as you sink into his embrace, and he rubs circles into your back.

His voice is lower when he speaks, “I will take a break now- I need some inspiration from you.”

_____

CALEB

It's rare that you ever tag along to Caleb's gym sessions. Aside from schedules never aligning, you always knew his workout routine was rigorous and intense, so you wouldn't want to distract him.

Apart from that, he is also a huge source of distraction to you.

Right now, he's doing shoulder presses while seated on the gym bench, looking absolutely distracting. The stair master machine faces the mirror, giving you a clear view of him.

There's no way you can complete your usual routine, so you approach him.

Time to call it a day at the gym.

"Xià Yǐzhòu," you call out.

His dumbbells wobble mid-air.

"Holy-" He braces himself and rights his grip, bringing the dumbbells back down to rest them on his knees.

When he looks up, his expression does something complicated. "...Haven't heard that in a while," he murmurs, placing the dumbbells on the floor and rubbing his neck.

There's a vulnerability in his eyes you rarely see. “What happened to ‘Caleb’?” he asks.

When you explain your practice sessions, his boyish grin returns.

"Well damn, pips."

He tackles you into a hug that nearly has you topple over- but he catches you. With the way he's looking at you now, you're glad the gym is quiet. Even after being with him, he never fails to get your pulse soaring with his stupid, rugged charm.

“Ew, Caleb your sweat-”

“I don't recall you having a problem with that last night,” he murmurs, holding you closer.

“Caleb, I swear-” You jab at his sides with your fingers, scrambling to find an excuse to get him to stop teasing, “I'm sweaty too, it's gross.”

It almost works. He squirms, but his grip doesn't loosen in the slightest.

“Xià Yǐzhòu-”

He hums contentedly, patting your hair to placate you, "Thaaaat's more like it. Now gotta hear that every morning."

His whisper turns teasing, "And every night. Especially when you're begging me to-" You clap a hand over his mouth.

“Caleb!”

He kisses your palm, then gently takes your hand from his face.

“Call me the other name again and I'll let you go,”

_____

Edit: (note: their chinese names are so beautiful and poetic and suits their characterisation/personalities so well I cant even begin to describe how much I love ! !! And especially the exact words/characters chosen for their names too where my multilingual stans at!!! OK incoherent vent over thank u all for reading <3)

[unintentionalseductress]

Prescription For Pleasure

Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.

You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.

And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.

But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no. 

“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.”  Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne. 

Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.

But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”

Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”

“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you. 

“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder. 

“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”

“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”

You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.

“Yes?”

“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.

“I am aware of it, yes.” 

“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.” 

Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”

“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.

“There appears to be a problem.”

“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.

“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.” 

It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”

There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.

“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”

A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”

With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence. 

And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.

The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session. 

“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy. 

“Yes.”

“Preference for the doggystyle position still?” 

Your face burns. “Yes.”

“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”

You nod your head.

“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy. 

“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.

“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go. 

“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”

You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office. 

Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit. 

The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air. 

His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”

“The sensors are-”

“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”

His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks. 

Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic. 

Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.

The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words. 

“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”

Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled. 

“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.

“Good girl. Take a breath.”

You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it. 

“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur. 

Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.

“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body. 

With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion. 

“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting. 

“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”

He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.

“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading. 

So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal. 

“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”

You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”

“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”

“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”

Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected. 

“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”

“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.

“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”

One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?” 

Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin. 

“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”

Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out. 

“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment. 

“I just had to be sure.”

Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat. 

Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again. 

“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.” 

The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision. 

Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well. 

The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom. 

“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation. 

He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream. 

Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips. 

“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”

Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke. 

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”

The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm. 

A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.

“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation. 

“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly. 

“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body. 

“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff. 

“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.

“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes. 

“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies. 

“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @actuallysaiyan

[mwphisto]

How LaDs Men Eat Your...

Pairings Include: Xavier x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Sylus x Reader | Caleb x Reader

Warning, this post contains: pretty straight forward, pussy eating!

Xavier

Xavier eats your pussy like a man starved. You didn't think he had it in him, and oh, how sorely mistaken you were. Making out had progressed into something more, daring the two of you to finally cross the line into uncharted territory.

When Xavier so shyly asked if he could go down on you, who were you to say no? Honestly, you didn't know what stars to thank for the courage to say yes, because Xavier had brought you over the edge three times with just his mouth and tongue.

Xavier eats pussy like it's his last meal, his last chance to ever taste you in such a way. He's all tongue and saliva, licking at your puffy clit so vigorously and sucking at your clit so harshly that you're shaking.

It gets to the point his entire head is moving with his tongue's motions, shaking back and forth while drool seeps down his chin, covers your cunt, and makes a mess of the sheets below your ass.

He won't stop until you're begging, and even then, he'll go longer.

Rafayel

Rafayel eats your pussy like he wants to memorize it. Just like everything else about him, he'll go down on you with some level of grace. It's kind of fascinating, the sweet noises he makes as he nuzzles your cunt with his nose, eyes locked on your face as if he is mentally sketching it out for a new art piece.

It happened for the first time in the middle of his art studio, with him on his knees and your legs spread for him on the velvet of his couch. He had taken his sweet time, causing you pure agony as he licked and sucked and bit as if he were merely testing the waters.

When comfortable, Rafayel will eat you out until you're crying. Until your clit is swollen from arousal and his constant sucking and nipping. Until whatever surface below your ass is stained or soaked with your cum and his drool. He could spend hours down there.

His fingers gripping the plush of your thighs, moaning wantonly against your quivering cunt as his hips hump whatever is closest to him in that moment. He simply can't get enough, can't stop.

And you don't think you want him to.

Zayne

Zayne eats your pussy meticulously. Years of med school and more anatomy classes than he can count, he'll joke that they all led up to this very moment. When Zayne ate you out for the first time, you genuinely saw stars and were left questioning if he had been joking or not about those anatomy classes.

He had asked you for help with stress relief, and you had initially thought he meant he wanted you to go down on him. The surgeon had a very different motive in mind, and you were over the moon when he fell to his knees before you.

Zayne studies your pussy, as if he's in awe of what he's seeing. Carefully touching, kissing, and licking every part of you. Whispering sweet nothings that you can barely make out due to the muffling of his mouth on your clit. Sucking the pulsing bud between eager lips.

Eating pussy is Zayne's favorite de-stress tactic. He'll have you splayed out on his bed, his head between your thighs, and tongue working your sweet cunt until you're damn nearly pulling his hair out of his skull because he won't relent.

He can't help it, you're his perfect remedy.

Sylus

Sylus eats your pussy like he'll die if he doesn't. He knows you have high expectations, and he is nothing if not a man of his word. So when things got heated and he assured you he could make you cum more times than you could count with his mouth alone? You were quick to accept such a promising offer.

Sylus had you stripped and on his bed in record time, evol keeping your hips down as his head remained stationed between your legs. One thing about Sylus is that he is a loud eater, he's moaning and groaning into your slippery cunt as his nose and tongue work you over the edge again and again and again.

Sylus makes out with your pussy, showering it in as much love as he does the rest of your body. His nose bumps your clit so many times you're seeing stars, crying hoarsely as his lips suction to the way-too sensitive bud and he brings another orgasm crashing down on you.

Sylus is smug about it too, kissing your cunt as you come down from yet another high. He'll utter sweet nothings, resting his nose against your pubic bone as he observes your chest rise and fall rapidly, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. Still, he's not done with you.

He's greedy, and now that he's had a taste, he's utterly insatiable.

Caleb

Caleb eats your pussy like a goddamn animal. He is feral, you're sure of it, sobbing hysterically as you physically cannot get him off of your overstimulated cunt. Damn him and that evol, you're forever at his mercy and it doesn't seem like he's letting up any time soon.

When you finally gave Caleb the green light, the poor boy came in his pants before he could make you cum. Eating your sweet pussy was enough to have him busting a load completely untouched. You took it as a compliment, finding it oddly adorable.

Caleb is cruel with your pussy, licking, biting, sucking, and spitting on it like it's his own personal chew toy. He's not satisfied until his chin is dripping with your cum, until it's soaked not only through the sheets but into the mattress below.

Caleb's evol keeps you at his mercy, babbling and begging for him to ease up. Your poor pussy so sensitive and yet he keeps going, slobbering and slurping like you're the best meal he's ever had.

Honestly? In his eyes, you are.

[ladsonlads]

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you. 

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning. 

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway. 

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway. 

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.” 

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.” 

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock. 

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock. 

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead. 

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered. 

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond. 

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion. 

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one. 

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket. 

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?” 

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant. 

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all. 

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits. 

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand. 

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.” 

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically. 

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you. 

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam. 

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you. 

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you. 

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her. 

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief. 

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow. 

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option. 

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short. 

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan. 

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score. 

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style. 

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11. 

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it. 

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again. 

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall. 

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them. 

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus. 

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace. 

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate. 

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer. 

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground. 

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck. 

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house. 

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home. 

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree. 

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return. 

“A million dollars.” 

“Done.” 

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more. 

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests. 

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.” 

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request. 

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?” 

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive. 

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.” 

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck. 

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun. 

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation. 

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life. 

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.  

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions. 

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will. 

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no. 

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded. 

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake. 

“You threatened an old man with a gun…” 

“Yes.” Kieran responded. 

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief. 

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected. 

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one. 

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find. 

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?” 

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right? 

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed. 

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress. 

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?” 

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.” 

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.” 

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair. 

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone. 

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question. 

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others. 

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued. 

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling. 

“You are the spitting image of your mother.” 

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her. 

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod. 

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.” 

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.” 

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.” 

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom. 

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other. 

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing. 

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.” 

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.” 

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb. 

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year. 

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too. 

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.” 

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you. 

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office. 

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting. 

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile. 

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary. 

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ. 

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left. 

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now. 

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence. 

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity. 

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly. 

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings. 

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour. 

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours. 

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s  voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday. 

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive. 

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic. 

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk. 

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?” 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them. 

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head. 

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go. 

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed. 

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.” 

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life. 

 _______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb. 

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response. 

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway. 

“Order whatever you’d like.” 

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu. 

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied. 

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny. 

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne. 

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand. 

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with. 

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course. 

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead. 

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.  

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night. 

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter . 

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it. 

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare. 

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours. 

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman. 

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down.  “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.” 

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask. 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry. 

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural. 

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free. 

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break. 

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare. 

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment. 

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name. 

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you. 

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war. 

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.” 

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.” 

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.” 

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption. 

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice. 

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw. 

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset. 

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately. 

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne. 

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded. 

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back. 

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material. 

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind. 

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.  

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was. 

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left. 

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.” 

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew. 

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?” 

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well. 

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces. 

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged. 

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies. 

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.” 

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work. 

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided. 

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast. 

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner. 

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before. 

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve. 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see. 

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory. 

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November. 

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly. 

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants. 

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet. 

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide. 

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked. 

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused. 

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now. 

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?” 

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand. 

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.  

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave. 

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him. 

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game. 

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features. 

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions. 

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.” 

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important. 

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?” 

All sound came to a stifling halt. 

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus. 

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”  

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned. 

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again. 

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse. 

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return. 

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism. 

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side. 

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth. 

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure. 

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued. 

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.” 

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms. 

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream. 

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time. 

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?” 

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success. 

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves. 

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about. 

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk. 

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands. 

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you. 

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store. 

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead. 

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship. 

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick. 

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice. 

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress. 

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.” 

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose. 

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace. 

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?” 

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone. 

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight. 

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response. 

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. 

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his. 

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane. 

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy. 

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise. 

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice. 

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date. 

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind. 

“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same. 

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away. 

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him. 

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse. 

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.  

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them. 

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly. 

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart. 

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next. 

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent. 

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you. 

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!” 

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back. 

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts. 

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.” 

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear. 

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone. 

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful. 

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you. 

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time. 

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation. 

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality. 

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you. 

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible. 

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary. 

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt. 

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.” 

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex. 

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.” 

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again. 

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.” 

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.” 

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this. 

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet. 

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop. 

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that. 

Tag list: @blue-sky336 @sei-chuun @astolary @luna-looniesblog @rainkissedberries @syluslittlecrows @escape-your-nightmare @mangooes @bibistarx @kathypellar @stxrrielle @mansonofmadness @babygirl-panda19 @wegottastayfocus @zoezhive @futurecorpse92 @diabolichii @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @cathuggnbear @blue-serendipity @huuvu @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @sh3sa1dwhat @justpassingdontworry @sylustoru @poptrim @mikachux3 @thargelalia @eolivy @vyntheria @dana-nite @miffysoo @babyx91 @fealy @sillyfreakfanparty @cassiesversion @serenity-loves-red @nommingonfood @sylusgirlie7 @browneyedgirl22 @silverbrain

Sorry if you were tagged but didn't get a notif, I think some of you might have your tags off because your blog wasn't coming up for me >:c

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you asking them to set you up with someone else

This was a fun request. I might slip some dynamic duo rivalry here.. hmm.. maybe this is the same universe as loft talk. This is pre relationship prank!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus (Rafayel)

"Hey, Sy. Can you set me up with one of your roommates?" "I don't have roommates." "? What do you mean. You have four roommates. I want the artist!" "No I absolutely do not. What artist?"

Would NEVER let you meet Rafayel, no matter what it takes. Rarely ever bring you back to the loft anymore.

Considered moving out of the loft and everything but stopped once you tell him it's a prank.

Xavier (Jeremiah)

"Xavie, is Jeremiah seeing anyone?" "I don't know a Jerry." "Jeremiah." "I don't know who that is either."

He gets SOOOO jealous (that's why we like him)

Why would you ask him to set you up with someone else. He's right there. He's perfect for you in every way. 🥺🥺🥺 - Xavier, probably

Rafayel (Sylus)

"Can you set me up with one of your friends?" "I don't have friends." "Yes you do! That fruit guy is breathtaking!" "You know what else is breathtaking? If I were to hold his head underwater." "Sorry?" "I said I am also breathtaking!"

He fish. Fish forgor stuff. Roommate? Who? Sylus? Thomas? Who???? What are you talking about?

Becomes extra mean to Sylus the next day and Sylus was so confused as to why is his bestfriend who is not his bestfriend seems to hate him more than usual!?

Zayne (Greyson)

"Dr. Zayne, can you set me up with Greyson?" "Why?" "Because.. I want to?" "His name is Doctor Greyson, and do you really want to..?" "Yes please! Set me up with Dr. Greyson!" "...." "Zayne?" "If that's what you want."

I don't think he's gonna try to stop you nor does he realize you're testing the waters to see how he feels about you, defeatedly gives Greyson your number, but Greyson was so confused because why would he hit up Zayne's girlfriend???

"She's your girl, Zayne." "She is not." "Yes she is, she's just testing to see how you'd react, dummy. Now go and actually ask her out."

Caleb (Gideon)

Before you start pranking him, you prayed for Gideon's safety.

"Caleb, can you set me up with-" "He's gay." "I haven't even said a name!" "Yeah, everybody around me is gay. I'm their ally." "Caleb!!!"

He'd frown and keep telling you why would you need anybody else when you can have HIM. He's the one who knows you the best! He knows how to make you smile! He's 100% your boyfriend material! 😤

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ told you so 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men kissing you during an argument

୨ৎ── . Caleb

You walk fast—heels clicking against the pavement, every step fueled by the mix of anger and embarrassment boiling inside you. The crisp evening air nips at your cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to the heat rising from the mortifying scene Caleb just caused.

“Babe, wait! Please!” His voice is close behind, deep and breathless, but you don’t slow down.

You cross your arms tighter. “I told you to stop following me.” “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to—” His footsteps get louder as he catches up. “I just—he was way too close to you.”

You spin around so fast that he almost runs into you. “Too close? He was asking if I wanted coffee, Caleb!” you wave your hands in frustration, the image of your colleagues’ awkward stares still fresh.

He flinches but steps closer, towering over you, muscles tense beneath his hoodie. “I know. I messed up. I just…I hate the way guys look at you.”

You scoff and turn again, storming forward, but he’s right there, matching your pace. “Stop following me!”

“Not until you talk to me.”

You halt, shoulders tense. “And what should I tell you? That you’re an idiot?”

His lips twitch into the softest smile, like he’s grateful to even hear you insult him. “Whatever you want. I just miss your voice.”

You sigh, still looking at him with a harsh gaze. “Caleb—”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, cutting you off.

You huff. “I was saying—”

Another kiss. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop kissing me when I’m—”

Peck.

“—trying to talk!”

A longer peck.

Your hands press against his chest, but it’s more to steady yourself than push him away. “It was just a colleague, Caleb. He wasn’t hitting on me.”

“I know…” he mumbles cradling your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones soothingly. “I overreacted.”

“You think?” you mutter sarcastically against his lips.

He chuckles, eyes full of that maddening mix of regret and adoration. “I just… I can’t help it. You’re mine.”

Your heart softens, just a little. You sigh, resting your forehead against his chest. “You have no reason to be jealous, you know I only have eyes for you.”

“And I for you.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll bolt again. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Looking up, you shoot him a playful glare before letting a giggle escape your lips. “You’re such an idiot.”

His grin grows wider as he leans down to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

You’re lying in bed, curled under the covers, warm and cozy—except for one glaring problem. The big light overhead is still on, shining down on you both like some relentless interrogation lamp.

“Can you turn it off?” you mumble, too comfortable to move.

Rafayel, with his head resting lazily on your chest, lets out a deep, dramatic sigh before slowly lifting his head to look at you. His tousled hair falls into his eyes and he gives you his best attempt at puppy eyes—big, soft, and just a little bit sulky. “Sweetheart,” he drawls, pouting, “I’m so comfy. And warm. And cozy next to you.” he emphasizes his point cuddling more into your side.

You snort, unimpressed. “Nice try, but I got up last time. It’s your turn.”

He groans, flopping onto his back like a starfish. “But I painted all day! My arms, my poor arms, they’re like noodles. I’m basically a ghost of a man now.” he throws an arm over his forehead for dramatic effect.

You roll your eyes, already used to his theatrics. “A ghost who’s fully capable of walking the five steps to the light switch.”

He turns his head toward you, mischief sparking in his tired eyes. Slowly, he crawls back over, propping himself up on one elbow. “What if…” he starts, voice low, “I give you a kiss?” his fingers gently tilt your chin up.

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you—soft and lingering, his lips warm against yours. When he pulls back, a cocky smirk tugs at his mouth. “That do it?”

You stare at him flatly. “I’m still not moving.”

His smile falters and he lets out another heavy sigh, before dramatically collapsing on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the mattress as he spreads his arms and legs like a human blanket. “I’m too tired,” he mumbles against your collarbone. “This is it. I live here now.”

“Rafayel, you’re crushing me.”

“This is your punishment for not appreciating my kiss.”

You try to wiggle free but his arms tighten around you like a koala. “Seriously, we can’t sleep with the light on.”

“We’ll adapt,” he murmurs, already sounding half-asleep.

You both lay there, stubbornness thick in the air, neither willing to move. The soft hum of the lamp above is the only sound between your bickering breaths.

Minutes pass, your eyelids grow heavy, and eventually, you give in—not to turning off the light, but to the warmth of him sprawled over you, his steady breathing slowing. You sigh, before sleep takes over—both of you tangled together under the too-bright light, too stubborn and too in love to care.

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The wind whips through the street, biting at your skin, but you keep your chin high, refusing to shiver. Sylus strolls beside you, completely unfazed, his long white hair tousled by the gusts, red eyes practically glowing with amusement.

“Told you this would happen.” he says, his voice laced with smugness.

You glare at him from the corner of your eye. “Told me what?”

He gestures at your shivering jacket-less self. “That this would happen. You never listen to me. It was sunny for like five minutes, and you just—what? Thought winter vanished?”

You cross your arms, trying not to let your teeth chatter. “I’m perfectly fine.”

His grin widens. “Really? Because your lips are turning blue and you’re shaking.”

You scoff. “I already told you that I’m fine.”

Sylus lets out a low chuckle and begins to shrug off his thick coat, holding it out to you. “Here. Before you turn into an icicle.”

You eye the coat like it’s some sort of trap. “I don’t need it.”

“Seriously?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I’m not stubborn.”

“You’re literally freezing.”

“I’m not.” But the tremble in your voice betrays you. Worse, your lips start quivering, and you can’t stop them. Damn it.

Sylus’s teasing smile falters, his sharp eyes softening with concern. “Hey..” he murmurs, stepping closer. Without another word, he cups your cheeks, his hands warm against your icy skin, and leans down to kiss you.

His lips are soft and heated, chasing away the cold. You feel his hands glide down your arms, fingers brushing over the goosebumps before sliding around your waist. In one smooth motion, he pulls you tightly against him, wrapping his coat around the both of you. His scent—warm and familiar—envelops you as much as the fabric does.

You melt into his chest, feeling the warmth seep into your frozen limbs.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes filled with something softer now. “There. Better?”

You huff, but your cheeks are flushed—not just from the cold anymore. “You cheated.”

He smirks. “You’re warm now, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers clutch the fabric of his coat tighter. “...Yeah. Maybe.”

His grin returns, full force. “Told you so.”

୨ৎ── . Zayne

You stand in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Zayne munch on your cookie—the last cookie—the one you’d been dreaming about all afternoon. His green eyes widen when he notices you, mid-bite, like a deer caught in headlights, but it’s too late. The damage is done.

“Zayne.” Your voice is sharp, dripping with betrayal.

He freezes, cookie halfway to his mouth. “What?”

You gesture dramatically to the now-empty container on the counter, filled with nothing but sad little crumbs. “You ate my cookie. The one I saved. The one I was going to eat as a reward.”

He blinks, then swallows. “I…I’m sorry, I ate it without thinking.”

Groaning, you stomp out of the kitchen, leaving him behind with the offending crumbs. You flop onto the couch, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, an annoyed pout settling on your face. You hear his footsteps approaching, slow and hesitant.

“Love…” His voice is soft, like he knows he’s walking into dangerous territory. “There are still some brownies left, you want them?”

You don’t even look at him. “Not the point.”

He carefully steps closer, holding up an imaginary peace offering. “I can warm them up. They’re gooey. Chocolatey. Even better than a stupid cookie.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” you mutter, but the traitorous growl of your stomach echoes through the living room.

There’s a beat of silence. Then you notice it—Zayne biting back a smile.

“Really?” you snap, shooting him a glare.

He grins shamelessly, a little glint in his eyes. “How about this? I’ll bake you more cookies. Fresh ones. But…” He leans closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “it’ll cost you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Cost me?”

“One kiss,” he nods, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You’re about to roll your eyes when he doesn’t even wait for your answer. He dips down, catching your lips in a soft, warm kiss. It’s sweet—too sweet—and when he pulls back, you blink at him.

“You taste like chocolate.” Despite yourself, your annoyed pout melts into a reluctant smile. Maybe one kiss—and some fresh cookies—weren’t such a bad deal after all.

୨ৎ── . Xavier

You shift on the couch, curled up beside Xavier, who’s been glued to his phone for the past hour. His blue eyes are locked on the screen, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he scrolls through yet another dumb video.

“Hey,” you start, voice light. “do you wanna watch that movie I’ve been dying to see?”

No response—just the faint sound of whatever clip he’s watching. But you catch the slight curve of his lips, a tiny smile hidden behind his phone and you take that as a silent ‘yes’ to your question. Hopping off the couch, you stretch your arms briefly. “I’ll grab snacks. Can you search for the movie in the meantime?”

“Mmhm” he hums without looking up, still lost in whatever rabbit hole he’s fallen into.

You head to the kitchen, grabbing popcorn, candy and drinks, even taking the time to slice some fruit because, well, balance. When you return with your arms full,you find him in the exact same position you left him—phone still in hand, thumb lazily scrolling.

You stare at him, your patience evaporating. “I can’t believe you right now.”

He hums again, barely acknowledging you. That’s it.

You slam the snacks onto the table, tug on your jacket, and start slipping on your shoes. The sudden movement finally breaks through his phone-induced trance.

“Wait—where are you going?” His head snaps up, red flushing his cheeks slightly.

You roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. “Home. If I’m gonna be ignored, I might as well do it in my own apartment.”

He stands lazily, as if this is all some mild inconvenience. “Didn’t you want to watch a movie together?”

“Oh, wow, so your ears do work!” you spat sarcastically. 

You head for the door, but before you can reach it, Xavier steps in front of you, blocking your path with his tall, broad frame. His big eyes glint with something teasing, but there’s a softness beneath it.

“You’re not actually mad at me,” he says, voice low and confident.

Your jaw tightens. “I am mad.”

He tilts his head, studying you, then gently cups your face in his large hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “I wasn't giving you the attention you deserve.”

Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you—slow, tender, and apologetic. When he pulls back, your tough facade crumbles a little. Despite yourself, your expression softens slightly.

You sigh, dropping your eyes. “Do you…do you think I’m boring or something?”

His entire demeanor shifts. “What?” His voice is laced with genuine concern now. He peppers your face with soft, quick kisses—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose—before meeting your gaze again. “Of course not! Listen, I was just being an idiot. I should appreciate every single second that I can spend with you instead of wasting time with some useless video.”

He grabs his phone and turns it off in front of you. “See? You have my undivided attention now.”

Your heart does a stupid little flip.

“Good,” you mutter, crossing your arms wanting to still look mad at him, but the little smile on your face betrays you.

He grins, taking your hand and leading you back to the couch. “Now, let’s watch that movie, properly this time.”

[misaamoure]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭:

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝…!

⋅ ˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬:

“Yes,” Sylus threw his head back, exposing his adam’s apple. “Just like that.”

Things had gotten a little heated on the couch in the living room.

You two had been watching this old ass movie tied to a soundtrack in Sylus’s vinyl collection as a pastime, and had clearly gotten distracted.

He had been very periodic and methodical with his caresses and touched, before finally leaning over and whispering in your ear, “instead of watching a movie, why don’t we make one?”

Stupid. How predictable.

Sylus was beyond hot though, so you let it slide.

Turning away for a moment to roll your eyes, you swing your leg over his lap to straddle him.

And that’s how you two ended up here.

You’d never had a makeout session so intense.

You felt his hands all over you… you felt like you were on fire.

You were also more than positive that your wetness had leaked all the way through your panties and pants.

“Oh!”

Your train of thought was interrupted when Sylus thrusted right up into you.

It felt so good… you could feel his hard dick pressing right into your clit.

“You shouldn’t give away what you like so easily, sweetie,” He gave one last squeeze to your tits before moving his hands down to grip your waist. “You’re giving me such a large advantage.”

Jesus Christ he talks too damn much.

You didn’t particularly feel like arguing with him today. Sure, it could be fun, but what you really wanted was to shut him up.

Deciding to take the initiative, you repositioned yourself to sit right on his hard dick, and started to roll your hips back and forth.

Sylus inhaled sharply, something you didn’t miss.

Grinding on him slowly and sensually, you feel his hands twitch on your waist as you kissed down his jawline to give his neck a sharp bite.

The sound of Sylus’s heavy breathing and moaning only egged you on further.

“Fuck, kitten,” He shut his eyes tightly, throwing his head back. “Wait…”

Sylus was going fucking crazy.

Why did it feel so good? It was just a little kissing and grinding.

He suddenly felt like a horny teenager all over again.

But it felt so fucking good… you felt so fucking good. Rarely did you ever have the chance to get on top like this.

Maybe he should let you do it more often.

It was so out of character for him, to be moaning and panting like this. His head was a mess.

His boxers were a mess too, all the precum he had been leaking.

The electrifying feeling of your wet cunt dragging over his cock was driving him over the edge quicker than he’d like to admit.

“Wait, please,” Sylus felt fucking neurotic, begging like this. “Y/N… wait…”

It wasn’t long after that Sylus felt himself cum in his pants. Hard.

Holding you tightly by the waist and panting up a storm.

Oh my god… there’s no way he…?

You quickly sat up on your knees, lifting yourself off of his lap to see with your own two eyes.

And he did! There was an unmistakable wet spot right where his dick was.

Fuck… it was so erotic.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞:

Unintentional dry spells. It was common between you and Zayne.

He was always busy at the hospital and you were constantly running around to kick wanderer ass.

But you two always made that lost time up.

In fact; you can say with full confidence that you preferred the sex after the build up.

There was a particular intensity that came with it that simply couldn’t be replicated.

Nobody else saw Zayne with this level of passion but you.

It was his day off and he had invited you over.

While you two had been once sitting on his couch, things had began to get heated after Zayne initiated a kiss with you, stating how much he missed you.

It was rare for him to verbalize exactly what he felt so boldly.

Oh he was so sweet. The sweetest man you’d ever met.

Cut to you being on top of him with him laying on the couch below you.

You don’t even remember when you got on top of him. Well… not that it mattered.

Not when he was making you feel this good. He was the only thing on your mind at the moment.

“Y/N… please,” You felt his grip on your waist tighten as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Wait…”

Hearing him beg and plead with you was making you unbelievably wet.

You didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop. It was too good. And you’d been waiting for him for hours.

With every pass of Zayne’s hard cock over your clothed clit you became more and more aggressive.

“I’m not going to last like this,” He said breathlessly. “Please, my love, enough…!”

Oh my god was it your birthday?

Making Zayne cum in his pants sounded maddening.

He was under you losing his mind.

Zayne could feel how wet you were through all the layers you two were wearing.

The delicious friction of how perfectly you were grinding on him was bringing him to his climax all too quickly.

“Y/N… I’m-”

Digging his fingers into your hips, Zayne came all into his boxers.

Shit… you drove him crazy.

[zarry-fics]

Ooi aceita pedidos?

Se sim poderia fazer um imagine do Zayn ou do Harry (fica a seu critério) deles esgueirando a namorada junto com eles na turnê e tentando colocar ela nós lençóis deles no ônibus da turnê ou quarto de hotel sem a gerência ver (finja que tem uma regra que namorada só pode acompanhar se for em outro dormitório e tal)

Contra as regras

N/A:. Sim, aceito pedidos! E fico feliz que você tenha enviado. Escrevi com carinho, espero que você e todas que lerem gostem! Não ficou mtoo grande, mas eu amei. Decidi fazer com o Z pq não tenho muitos imagines escritos com ele aqui e eu adoro ele! Enfim, aproveitem a leitura e só pra enfatizar: estou SIM aceitando pedidos, mandem! Não garanto que vá sair rápido por conta do meu tempo gasto no trabalho, mas a garantia que eu dou é de que uma hora sai! :)) bjsss e aproveitem mtoo, dps me digam oq acharam, meninas. Outra coisa... Inventei tudo oq tá escrito aqui, então algumas coisas não condizem com a realidade. Mas relevem! É por puro entretenimento.

AVISOS: nenhum

MASTERLIST | IMAGINES ANTIGOS

O retorno de Zayn aos palcos abalou completamente as estruturas dos fãs, que não estavam nem um pouco preparados para esse evento. Era de se esperar que os primeiros shows que marcariam essa volta icônica seriam lotados, com fãs alucinados por ver Zayn tão de perto.

Eu estava feliz por ele, é claro. Assisti a todos os seus shows e o acompanhei em sua turnê. Tudo parecia ter sido orquestrado pelo universo de uma forma quase mágica, já que o início de sua turnê pelo mundo começaria justamente uma semana após as minhas férias. Partindo desse ponto, não hesitei e peguei um vôo para acompanhá-lo. Estava tão feliz! Passamos um tempo separados, sem nos vermos com frequência devido às minhas provas. Meus últimos dias na faculdade foram um completo caos. Eu não tinha tempo nem para mim mesma, apenas me dedicando aos estudos para evitar pendências que pudessem me prejudicar.

Sabia que Zayn também estava radiante com a minha presença. No começo, um pouco inseguro devido ao ódio que algumas fãs dele nutrem por mim, mas logo esse sentimento foi se dissipando, pois eu via nos olhos dele o quanto ele amava estar nos palcos e como estava adorando essa nova experiência. Zayn ainda não tinha ideia do quanto era amado pelas pessoas, e eu tenho certeza de que ele está surpreso e satisfeito, confortável com a recepção.

Após o quarto show em Sydney, a equipe estava exultante, comemorando o sucesso e o andamento tranquilo do evento. Zayn estava com as bochechas vermelhas, suando, mas seus olhos brilhavam ao ver o público cantando suas novas músicas. Orgulhosa, eu o observava e via seus olhos se enchendo de lágrimas, emocionado pelo carinho do público. Estava tão feliz por ele que não consegui conter a emoção e, quando ele se aproximou, me joguei em seus braços.

— Estou tão feliz, amor. — ele disse, com um sorriso no rosto.

Dei-lhe um beijo no canto da boca. — E eu estou orgulhosa de você. Você sabia disso? Você é incrível, Z. As pessoas te amam, e eu também! — Ao ouvir isso, os olhos dele brilharam. Mesmo suado, eu não me importei e o abracei com mais força, sentindo seu perfume ainda no ar.

— Quero ficar com você hoje. — ele disse, bem perto do meu ouvido, sem se importar com a equipe ao redor, ignorando completamente a regra que devemos seguir à risca.

— Você sabe que não podemos. — respondi, afastando-me e olhando nos olhos dele. Seu assessor nos observava atentamente. Não poderíamos continuar a conversa assim, pois ele era o centro das atenções naquele momento.

— Não me importo! — Zayn respondeu com convicção, tirando do bolso um cartão de acesso e me entregando. — Vá até o meu quarto esta noite. Vou te mandar mensagem quando for o momento certo. — Ele piscou para mim e, embora eu estivesse confusa e com um pouco de medo, concordei. Além disso, estava morrendo de saudades dele e não via a hora de podermos dormir juntos novamente, como sempre fizemos desde que assumimos nosso relacionamento.

Era cruel não podermos dividir o mesmo quarto. Mas regras são regras... e não podíamos quebrá-las.

Até agora.

• • •

Depois do evento, retornamos para o hotel. No carro, Zayn tinha a sua cabeça repousando na janela, mas ainda segurava a minha mão, massageando-a suavemente. Eu estava tão bem ali, perto dele, e feliz por saber que, por pelo menos algumas horas, poderíamos estar juntos, embora ele já tivesse me explicado que não poderia ficar comigo até o amanhecer.

E, como o prometido, em poucas horas recebi a sua mensagem:

"Já pode vir. Estou te esperando!"

Ainda achei que não daria certo, mas deu. Eu não conseguia entender como, mas Zayn conseguiu convencer um funcionário do hotel a me escoltar até a porta de seu quarto. O homem estava sério, sem se dirigir a mim de forma descontraída, parecia concentrado em seu trabalho. Eu gostei disso, pois além de sério, parecia confiável. Já estava tarde, e os corredores estavam silenciosos, demonstrando que já não era hora de estarmos acordados, mas era por um bem maior.

— Senhorita, vou acompanhá-la até aqui. Amanhã, antes das 4h, estarei de volta para levá-la até o seu quarto. Por favor, não se atrase. — Ele falou, com um olhar sério.

Eu estava abismada. Quando passei o cartão na porta, ela se abriu rapidamente. Zayn já estava me esperando do outro lado, com um sorriso enorme no rosto. Estava sem camisa, com o cabelo úmido, indicando que tomou banho há pouco tempo. Estava bem cheiroso.

Me joguei em seus braços, sem pensar. O beijei com carinho, sentindo a pele quente dele na minha, o que me trouxe um conforto imensurável. — Eu não acredito que você conseguiu, Z. Esse hotel está cheio de câmeras, como...

— Consegui subornar os seguranças responsáveis por elas. As gravações em que você aparece serão apagadas amanhã, não vai acontecer nada, S/N. Não nos descobrirão hoje. — Ele explicou, orgulhoso do que havia feito.

O abracei mais uma vez e o beijei de forma mais demorada. Zayn agarrou minha cintura, pressionando ainda mais nossos corpos, permitindo que eu sentisse a sua protuberância, que já me é comum sempre que temos uma aproximação como essa.

Zayn me guiou até a cama. Lá, ele me deitou e ficou por cima de mim, sem desgrudar os lábios. — Eu te amo tanto, sabia? — disse baixo, com a boca a centímetros da minha. Olhei para ele por cima dos cílios, observando sua respiração ofegante, seus lábios se movendo enquanto ele respirava, e a expressão de puro amor em seu rosto.

Ele não ficou por muito tempo assim, logo se deitou ao meu lado. Estava disposto a apenas curtir a minha companhia e eu compartilhava do mesmo sentimento, na verdade.

— Eu também te amo, amor. Muito!!! — disse, e o beijei novamente, beijo este que me trouxe uma porrada de sensações boas e entre elas... Paz.

Eu me sentia completa com ele. E ali, em seus braços, estava verdadeiramente feliz.

Zayn, com seu sorriso tranquilo, me puxou para mais perto de seu peito, e ali, naquele silêncio envolvente, eu me senti completamente protegida. O som da sua respiração era suave, mas ao mesmo tempo tão cheio de vida, me lembrando o quanto aquele momento era único. A luz suave da lâmpada ao lado da cama refletia em seus olhos, fazendo-os brilhar ainda mais, como se refletissem todo o carinho que ele sentia por mim.

Eu me aconcheguei mais contra ele, sentindo o calor do seu corpo transbordando em mim. Às vezes, as palavras simplesmente não eram necessárias. Naqueles segundos em que permanecemos em silêncio, juntos, tudo o que importava era estarmos ali, nos entregando um ao outro.

— Você tem ideia do quanto significa para mim? — Zayn disse baixinho, com a voz rouca, ainda segurando minha mão suavemente. A pergunta flutuou no ar, mas a intensidade da sua expressão dizia mais do que qualquer resposta.

Eu sorri, tocando seu rosto com a palma da minha mão, acariciando sua pele com os dedos. — Eu também sinto isso, Zayn. Cada segundo ao seu lado é como um presente. Não importa onde estejamos, desde que seja contigo.

Ele fechou os olhos por um momento, como se absorvesse cada palavra minha, e então me beijou novamente, um beijo profundo, cheio de carinho e de tudo o que não sabíamos como dizer. Era, de fato, como se o mundo lá fora tivesse desaparecido e, ali, naquele quarto silencioso, estivéssemos sozinhos no nosso próprio universo.

O tempo parecia ter parado. Mesmo com as responsabilidades e regras que nos cercavam, naquele instante, eu sabia que nada poderia nos separar. A distância, as regras, as expectativas... Tudo isso se desfazia quando estávamos juntos. E eu sabia que, não importa o que acontecesse depois, este momento, esse amor entre nós, seria sempre o mais verdadeiro e forte.

A noite passou lentamente, e, enquanto Zayn continuava ao meu lado, minha mente se acalmava. Ele era minha paz, minha felicidade. Com ele, eu me sentia completa. E assim, entre carícias e beijos, adormecemos, sem pressa, apenas aproveitando o calor um do outro.

Eu sabia que, quando acordássemos, o mundo voltaria a ser o que era antes: cheio de regras e responsabilidades. Mas, naquele momento, não importava. Porque com Zayn, eu tinha encontrado algo mais precioso que qualquer coisa: um amor incondicional, forte o suficiente para enfrentar qualquer obstáculo.

E enquanto o amanhecer começava a invadir o quarto, eu sabia que, ao lado dele, eu sempre encontraria meu lugar.

[imagines-1directioner]

Same Mistake - with Zayn Malik

Situação: marido!Zayn Malik x Leitora

Contagem de palavras: 980

Sinopse: Zayn e S/N cometem o mesmo erro e passam por um momento turbulento em relação ao futuro do relacionamento do casal.

N/A: Mais uma vez renascendo das cinzas com uma imagine meses depois hahahaha. Espero que gostem e me digam o que acharam.

curte e reblogue o post para me ajudar 🫶

Já se passava das três da manhã quando encarei o horário no relógio digital pela quarta vez naquela noite infinita. Além da insônia, o calor que senti devido a mudança de estações era insuportável, não me deixando dormir nem que fosse por poucas horas. Claro que a angústia dentro de mim era uma das principais razões para minha inquietação, mas eu simplesmente ignorei esse detalhe em meu subconsciente e quis culpar a temperatura como meu pico de estresse.

“Será que eu ligo?” pensei alto, imaginando que ele também poderia estar na mesma situação que eu, ou até mesmo pior. “Está tarde, talvez ele já esteja dormindo.” minha mente fulminante não parava um segundo sequer, e meu coração gritava por respostas até eu ceder e clicar no contato dele em meu celular.

Ligação On*

- Oi.. - me senti mais aliviada ao perceber que sua voz não parecia sonolenta.

- Oi.. desculpa o horário. - comentei preocupada.

- Tudo bem, não estava dormindo.

- Também não consigo dormir.

- Bem vinda ao clube. - soltei uma leve risada para quebrar o gelo. Fazia uma semana desde de nosso último contato. - Tá tudo bem? - optei por permanecer em silêncio, afinal ele sabia a resposta.

- Você sabe que não. - pude ouvir a respiração profunda do outro lado da linha. Aquilo me machucou.

- Eu preciso de mais tempo.

- E eu entendo. - era tudo que eu podia dizer. - O que está me matando não é apenas o fato de não te ter por perto, e sim não saber como isso vai terminar. - novamente escuto-o suspirar pesado.

- Não é uma situação que se resolve do dia pra noite, S/N. - ouví-lo me chamar somente pelo nome era doloroso, e meus olhos se fecharam demonstrando o quanto doía.

- Eu sei.. sei muito bem o que está sentindo. - dei ênfase na confirmação.

- Então você compreende que preciso de mais tempo para absorver tudo o que aconteceu.

- Sim.. - completei entristecida. - Me desculpa.. de novo. - Zayn não respondeu. Claro, ele estava magoado, e com razão. - Nós havíamos nos reerguido e eu estraguei tudo.

- Não quero que pareça que só você foi a culpada.

- Mas eu fui.

- E eu também. - admitiu rapidamente. - Afinal, quem traiu primeiro fui eu. - desta vez eu suspirei fundo, relembrando a dor que senti oito meses atrás, quando soube que ele havia ficado com a ex namorada enquanto eu estava fora da cidade, visitando a minha familia.

Flashback On*

- Você não vai nem se defender? - esbravejei nervosa enquanto ele me encarava com a famosa carinha do gato de botas.

- Eu errei. - Zayn me encarou com os olhos marejados e logo limpou uma lágrima recém caída do olho esquerdo, engolindo o choro. - Errei feio e eu sei disso. Não vou esconder meu erro na bebida.

- Por que fez isso comigo? - murmurei com os lábios trêmulos e voz totalmente embargada. Meu coração estava dilacerado que sequer conseguia olhar para o meu marido.

- Porque eu sou um idiota, um fraco.

- Eu não te dei amor o suficiente?

- Claro que não, meu bem! - vi ele vir até mim e segurar minhas mãos delicadamente. - Não pegue essa culpa para você, por favor. Isso não é tem nada a ver contigo, com algo que você fez ou deixou de fazer. Fui eu que te magoei. Eu sou o filho da puta que estragou nosso casamento.

- Você ainda me ama? - perguntei aos prantos, tendo a maquiagem borrada e olhos cheios d’água, os quais olhavam fixamente para o moreno triste a minha frente.

- Eu sempre vou te amar, meu amor. Foi isso que eu disse em frente ao altar quando nos casamos, com toda a sinceridade do mundo.

Flashback Off*

- Sabe.. não sei se podemos comparar a dor, porque ela se expressa de maneiras diferentes nas pessoas. Mas como você se sentiu?

- Vazia. - respondi sem nem pensar muito. - Me senti desvalorizada, inutilizada, mas ao mesmo tempo sentia raiva e muito medo do que estava por vir.

- Eu estou com medo.

- Que tipo de medo?

- Medo de não sermos felizes como éramos no início do casamento.. de ter perdido o que era nosso, a nossa essência como casal apaixonado.. estou com medo de ter parado de te amar. - digeri em seco aquelas palavras que havia acabado de escutar. Elas caíram como um pedaço de chumbo no meu estômago e a vontade de chorar estava entalada na garganta.

- Se você acha que não está pronto para me perdoar, eu vou compreender. - provavelmente Zayn percebeu a alteração no tom da minha voz.

- Mas você me perdoou. Não quero ser injusto.

- Uma traição não anula a outra, Zayn. Não podemos tratar isso como se estivéssemos quites porque nós dois cometemos o mesmo erro.

- Você.. você quer se separar de vez? - senti que a pergunta veio de um modo apreensivo e eu não queria responder, então decidi me calar. - Isso foi um não?

- Na verdade não quero influenciar na sua decisão.

- Então você não quer se separar?

- Eu te amo, Z. - disse verdadeiramente. - Apesar de tudo vivemos dez anos juntos. Construímos uma vida. É claro que não te quero longe mim.

- Não me afastaria de você caso nos divorciássemos. - ele tentou minimizar o “problema” com uma solução teórica.

- Você diz isso agora, na prática tudo se torna mais difícil.. - conclui e ele se calou. - Eu.. eu sinto sua falta. - admiti em momento de fraqueza e carência. - E o Mike também. - pude ouvir sua risada baixa, trazendo um pouco de felicidade ao mencionar nosso cachorro.

- Sinto falta dele também.. e sua mais ainda. - fiquei feliz em saber que ele sentia minha falta, mesmo depois de tê-lo traído com um de seus amigos de infância após uma briga intensa que tivemos.

- Posso fazer uma última pergunta antes de desligar?

- Uhum.

- Você ainda me ama?

- Eu fui sincero ao dizer que sempre te amaria quando nos casamos.

- Mas e agora, nesse exato momento, você sente amor por mim?

- Sim.. afinal só dói porque eu ainda te amo.

__________________________________________

Feedbacks são sempre bem-vindos e de extrema importância para quem escreve. Se possível, não esqueça de deixar um comentário sobre o conteúdo lido acima na ask! Adoraria saber o que achou :)

xoxo

Ju

[little-big-fan]

Especial de Natal / Zayn Malik Imagine

🎄Título: Come Back...Be Here

🎄Par: Zayn Malik x S/n

🎄Pedido: Faz um com o zayn que eles terminaram a pouco tempo por uma briga boba e mesmo assim ele vai na casa dela dar um presente de natal e eles acabam voltando

🎄Palavras: 384

🎄N/a: Feliz natal gente 🫶🏻. Espero que gostem desse especial que preparamos com muito amor e carinho 💕

29 de Novembro

– Não vou parar de falar com alguém que fez parte da minha vida inteira só porque você tem ciúmes – falei irritada – James e eu crescemos juntos ele é como um irmão pra mim e outra ele é casado.

– Eu não gosto dele e estou pedindo que você se afaste.

– Zayn entenda que eu não vou me distanciar do James, principalmente porque sou madrinha do filho dele.

– Então acho que precisamos terminar. – Ele falou sério

– Não seja ridículo.

– Não estou sendo ridículo, eu te dei uma escolha e você escolheu ele.

– Zayn, ele é minha família, você está vendo coisas onde não tem.

– Eu já tomei minha decisão e você pelo visto já tomou a sua.

– Ótimo se é assim que você quer. Acho melhor você ir embora.

Nas semanas seguintes foram torturantes, não queria ter brigado e muito menos terminado com Zayn por uma bobeira, mas não me afastaria da única família que me resta, e Zayn é muito orgulhoso para assumir que estava errado.

24 de Dezembro Véspera de Natal

Resolvi fazer apenas uma comemoração pequena de véspera de natal com James Mandy e Aaron.

Eu estava na cozinha quando a campainha tocou e escutei Mandy falando da sala.

– S/n tem alguém aqui querendo falar com você – Mandy falou

– Vai lá, eu cuido das coisas aqui – James falou praticamente me expulsando da cozinha.

Fiquei surpresa ao ver Zayn parado na porta segurando um embrulho de presente.

– Será que podemos conversar? – Zayn falou meio sem jeito.

– Claro, entra. – falei

– Eu sinto muito pelo que eu disse naquela noite, eu estava com ciúmes e não tenho o direito de dizer com quem você deve ou não conviver.

– Não vou dizer que está tudo bem, porque não é verdade, você me magoou aquela noite, mas eu meio que entendo.

– Eu vim me desculpar e dizer que ainda te amo e me arrependo muito de ter terminado com você naquela noite.

– Eu também Zayn ainda te amo e muito.

– Você me dá mais uma chance – falou me entregando o presente.

– Sim eu te dou outra chance e se você quiser pode ficar para jantar com a gente, será muito bem vindo.

– Vou ficar sim, obrigado por me dar mais uma chance prometo que irei controlar meu ciúmes a partir de hoje em diante.

[xavierfan]

more bre3ding/cr3amp1e p-links pls 🫣

warnings: sexual content below! p-links and sexually explicit descriptions are in this post

i genuinely don't know what to say anymore but this is sylus. on everyone's soul, THIS IS SYLUS

this one too

this too

sylus likes to fuck his seed back into you himself, he does so quite softly. it's an extremely intimate act when he does it, he's gentle and slow, and it's really not about possession to him. he just likes it— the warmth, the slickness, the sound, and the lewdness of it all.

> heavy breeding kink with no hints of possessiveness, he straight up just wants you to have his kid idfk. he would definitely say stuff like, "you're going to make a wonderful mother to our kids." / "kitten, one day you're going to get pregnant and i'm going to be so lucky." / "fuck, kitten, you want me to fuck my cum back into you, right? you want me to get you pregnant, right?"

idk why but this one gives me a caleb vibes

this one is also him

this one too

this too 😭😭😭

i keep adding caleb links im tweaking

caleb really enjoys watching his cum leak out of you. he would tease you, "pipsqueak, you're wasting it", as he just watches you squirm. to him, this is something akin to 'marking' you, walking up behind you later while out talking about, "think you're still leaky, pip."

> he's also probably got a crazy breeding kink mixed with a little —or a lot— bit of crazy obsession idfk, shit like "when your belly gets big, everyone's going to know who you belong to" / "one day i'm gonna get you pregnant" / "you'd look so good carrying my child, pips" / "if you let it all out, you'll hurt my feelings pips."

i think rafayel kind of goes feral once you let him cum in you... like he just keeps going idk

teasing him

rafayel is less breeding kink more crazy about you. loves anything to do with you, sex is not an exception, and he puts you on a pedestal a little differently to the rest of the boys. a bit like a mutt, you let him cum in you and suddenly he can't stop rutting into you, trying to chase another high.

> less breeding kink, more pathetic subby male who is so fucking excited to be fucking you. "fuck. fuck. fuck. 'm gonna cum again, please? please let me keep going?" / "princess, you feel soo good, please." / "princess, i'm sorry, let's keep going..." / "i'll be so good for you, princess, let me keep going."

sorry i know you specifically asked for breeding and i know this isn't but it still has cum ...

this is also zayne idk

zayne....

zayne rarely ever finishes inside of you, citing that it's not good for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to. idk how to explain it, he doesn't let himself finish inside of you because he's worried he'll lose self control.

> heavily likes the idea of breeding, like it probably takes everything in his body to not ram into you as he feels his balls squeeze, probably in your ear talking about "you'd look so beautiful pregnant." / "want to start a family with you." / "one day i'm going to get you pregnant, no need to worry." / "if you keep asking me to cum in you, i just might one day..."

i think xavier would like you fucking yourself with his cum... like shoving anything that comes out back inside

this one too

anotha one

xavier just wants to watch your fingers plug your hole up to prevent any more spillage. it brings a smile to his face to see how desperate you are to keep all of his seed inside of you, it probably gets him hard all over again prompting him to say something like, "don't worry, there's more where that came from."

> no specific breeding kink per say but likes the possessive element of pregnancy like caleb, "they'll know what we get up to at night." / "maybe when you're pregnant he'll stop coming up to you" / "want everyone to know how good you make me feel every night"

notes : i couldnt find that many links 😭😭😭 i've been searching all day so i'm sorry anon... pls forgive me... i hope the little blurbs makeup for the lack of links :(

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] You = me?

LIs react to you/MC showing up to a date dressed exactly like them.

(Genre: Fluff; tw: mild suggestiveness)

SYLUS 

You stroll in with a suit jacket worn exactly the way he does- draped like a cape, the crow brooch glinting under the dim ambient light of the restaurant. Sylus raises a brow as he takes in your appearance.

"Kitten," he purrs, standing to pull out a chair for you. "Are you mocking me… or tempting me?" His fingers brush the brooch. "Because if it’s the latter, this game ends with that outfit on my floor." 

It sends an electrifying heat coiling deep within you, but you refuse to let your composure slip just yet.

You mimic his posture, chin lifted. "I just wanted to see if I could pull off power better than you." 

He laughs, low and indulgent. "Oh, you do."  

___

XAVIER 

Xavier freezes mid-sip when he sees you in his signature hoodie-and-tee combo, the tea hovering in front of his face as he looks, or rather, stares. His cup clinks when he sets it down.

 "You're… me."  

You wink, copying his serene smile and slipping into the seat opposite him. "Do I look like a fallen star now?"  

He reaches out, fingertips grazing the fabric. "No. You look like everything… everything I love,"  

Then- rare mischief flashes. “You'd look even better with me. At my place, in my be-”

“Xavier!” You yelp, stopping him from finishing what he had to say.

He beams at you. “I meant, napping in a hoodie is very comfortable. So we should try it together,”

___

ZAYNE 

Zayne’s chopsticks pause over his plate when you slide into the booth, dressed in his go-to all-black attire.

His stare lingers on you.

 "…You even got the correct height for the rolled sleeves."  

You adjust imaginary glasses. "Based on observational data, this was the optimal outfit for unconventional seduction."  

A beat. Then- he leans in, his voice a whisper. "Your confidence interval is 100%."  

Your heart flutters in your chest at the way a hint of a smirk grazes his lips.

"Let's eat now, otherwise the soup dumplings will get cold." He says lightly to remind you to sit, picking one up with practiced ease and placing it into your bowl.

His gaze for the rest of the evening is weighted with a certain intensity, one that promises more to come, once you return home with him.

___

RAFAYEL

“Hey Rafayel,” you greet, your hand brushing his shoulder lightly as you walk in from behind him. “Sorry I'm late,”

There's a short beat of silence.

Rafayel's butter knife clatters onto the plate. "Is that-? Are you? ME?!"  

You do a spin, the white fabric flowing around you. "Who else?"  

He springs up, hands fluttering over your hair and outfit. "Oh, Miss Bodyguard you look absolutely stunning- wait, do a pose! Pose like I do!"  

You flick your hair and angle your shoulder to pose. His jaw drops.

 "I’m OBSESSED! This is art!"  He declares.

Then, suddenly, he takes your hands into his. His tone turns serious as he asks you softly. "But you have to tell me. Am I also art to you, Miss Bodyguard?”  

You grin at him. “Of course, you're the true embodiment of art itself,”

He preens, bringing your hand up and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Then another, and another, until you almost have to physically sit him back down on his chair and remind him to stop the PDA and eat.

--- 

CALEB 

Caleb chokes on his water when he sees your handmade sweater. He turns away quickly, coughing and spluttering into his elbow before he spews water all over the fancy steak frites on the table.

You make it to the corner table, a small little alcove that has an L-shaped sofa bench against the wall. With him being closer now, you can see that pink tinges the tips of his ears as he clears his throat. "You- you made this? For our date? For me?"  

You mimic his shy grin, sliding your bag off your shoulder as you slide into the plush bench, knees touching his. You stretch out your arm so that he can admire your handiwork. "Just a bit of stitching with ready-made items. Had to match my favorite person."  

His hands hover, like he’s afraid to wrinkle it. "I… I love it.. And the sweater paws- pipsqueak, that should be illegal,”

“Too cute to handle?” You tease.

He pinches your cheek, then squishes you in a tight hug. “Never, pipsqueak.”

His heartbeat says otherwise.

[mwphisto]

Simple things that turn LnDs men on~

Including: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, and Caleb x reader. Reader is implied female but most can be interpreted however you please!

Warning, this post is 18+! Some lighter smut since my brain cannot handle anything else atm (I’m graduating university in 3 weeks)

Shifting banner from @cafekitsune <3

Xavier

Cuddling with you, seeing you sleepy and warm and soft in his embrace, under his blankets, in his bed. He can’t help it, you’re just so perfect, so sweet in this state. His hands can’t help but wander, sliding over your soft tummy, your thighs, eventually landing to cup your chest. His nose nuzzles into the crown of your head, inhaling your shampoo, and the next thing he knows? His hips are swiveling softly into the plush of your ass.

When you get mad. He’s not capable of explaining why his body has the reaction it does. Other than the plain statement of “you’re hot when you’re mad.” Which isn’t a lie, Xavier finds you so hot when you’re angry. Seeing you so passionate about something that it gets your blood boiling? He’s thinking of ways to get you to cool down. How easily he could switch the downward tilt of your brows into something far more… relaxed… pleased… blissed out…

Sitting on his lap is a definite way to get his attention. Xavier can get a bit lost in his hobbies, whether it be reading or scrolling articles on his phone. Sometimes the call of his name doesn’t snap him out of his trance. But you know what does? Settling your pretty self on his muscular legs, a smile on your lips, your hands cupping his cheeks and guiding him up towards your glittery eyes. The weight of you on him, the warmth, the surprise of his train of thought being interrupted, all of it has his heart rate spiking. Until all he can see, hear, and feel is you.

Rafayel

Matching his energy can totally catch the artist off guard — the absolute best way. To be blunt, you’re able to match his freak so well he can’t help but get turned on at how in sync the two of you are. His beautiful bride, perfect in every way. When you two are so effortlessly on the same page, he finds himself struggling to keep his composure. Luckily for him, you always seem to know what he’s thinking without him so much as saying a word.

Willingly being his muse just might send Raf into a coma. Seeing you sprawled over his couch, barely dressed so he can do some anatomy sketches has him shifting uncomfortably on his stool. Your sweet smile, delicate and skilled hands, the way you whisper his name while he scribbles on his paper with a rosy blush on his cheeks. You’re just so effortlessly beautiful it drives him insane.

Noticing the smallest details about him will get his head spinning. Rafayel harbors a lot of mixed emotions regarding his past and he loves you wholeheartedly but sometimes he just can’t… let go. When you take the time to get to know him — or as much as he’s willing to give you — and you actually pick up on things that go unsaid? His head is spinning, his heart pounding, the seal on his chest burning brightly. He wants to devote himself to you, it’s just part of his nature at this point. Eventually, he’ll work through it all and give into what he needs most…

Zayne

Your laughter sends his heart into a nose dive. He’s never been one for jokes, his dry humor often carrying him through. But when he says something that genuinely has you belly laughing, his name a sweet melody on your lips as you try and contain your giggles? He’s shifting his legs to hide the growing tension between his legs. You look at him with such adoration, so sweet and delicate, he has to reign himself in before frost creeps up his neck.

Giving him your full attention when he begins to ramble about nerdy medical things definitely causes the surgeon to lose his train of thought. You may not understand the scientific terms he’s using, and you may feel a bit bad when he has to explain them again with simpler terminology, but your attention is undivided regardless. And Zayne notices, of course he does. His heart is pounding as he rattles off all of his fascinations — such as new research he’s compiled about neonatal heart defects. You’re so engaged with him, nodding along and even asking him some questions. He’s fighting the urge to kiss you senseless. After a long day you’re so willing to listen to him ramble on about his research? He’s going to marry you, and fuck you senseless for being such a good girl.

Taking care of him, such as shaving his face or washing his hair will have Zayne be putty in your hands. He does so much for others, puts so much care and effort into making their lives better. It’s only right that you step up and do the same for Dr. Zayne. Though, bless him, he didn’t expect you to straddle his lap and shave him with a straight razor. Didn’t expect to be engulfed by the sent of your perfume as you settle your weight on his legs and glide the razor over his skin. It’s intimate, the proximity of your bodies is close enough to generate some warmth. He’ll lose it before you’re able finish one side of his unshaven cheek.

Sylus

Skinship with the leader of Onychinus is pretty special. Sylus savors every second of it, given that your hands rarely touch him outside of holding his waist when on his bike. The feeling of your fingers on his cheeks, your legs caging his as you sit together on the couch, your fingers intertwining with his. He’s a goner, so touch starved it’s nearly pitiful. He’s always been a man of composure, but god dammit you’re just so soft compared to him. You’re so warm and smell so good and you’re just so… you’re so sparing with your touches. As if you’re hesitant, not sure if he’d want your hands on him in the first place. Drives him so insane, he craves to hold you close but doesn’t want to push you before you’re ready.

Seeing you wear clothes he picked out for you has Sylus adjusting his collar and inhaling deep through his nose. His mark is on you, even if it’s not on your skin, you’re dressed so beautifully. You match him, compliment him perfectly. You look so breathtaking he has to mentally pat himself on the back for having such damn good taste. Seeing you feel yourself in what he’s picked does wonders for his already big ego. Seeing you twirl and smile as you admire yourself in the dress, the skirt, the pants, the shirt, whatever he’s picked out for you for the occasion. It gives him a sense of pride, like he’s done good, and it’s a genuine plus that you look so goddamn perfect in every outfit.

Kissing his knuckles nearly sends him over the edge one night. You had finished cleaning some wounds while his evol recharged and sealed the deal with a gingerly placed kiss on his battered knuckles. Sylus nearly sees stars because of it, such an overwhelming surge of possessiveness and heat flooding his weary veins that he nearly pops a hard-on then and there on the floor.

Caleb

Stealing his clothing is something you’ve always done. Something about it being comfier, softer, smelling like him. God he doesn’t even care for the reason, he just knows you look so divine in his shirt, his boxers, his hoodie. So cute and small compared to him, marked as his for anyone who has the gracious opportunity to see you in such a state. He guesses it’s only fair you steal his clothes, since he has a small — but growing — collection of your panties—

Relying on him 100% would put Caleb on cloud nine. Giving up your tough guy act and simply putting all of your needs on him would have him struggling to keep his composure long enough to actually see the tasks through. Could be something as simple as asking him to cut up some fruit for you, could be as complicated as giving your bike a tuneup. Regardless, Caleb is blissed out and glossy-eyed as he shows his love for you in his favorite fashion.

Slipping into his bed in the middle of the night has been something you’ve done since childhood. Bad dream, can’t sleep, anxious or stressed, Caleb’s arms have always been your biggest comfort. He waits for it, waits for the creak of his door and your quiet whisper of permission. He craves the dip of his mattress, the weight and warmth of your body next to his under his sheets. He has to be mindful of where his hips land on you, purely out of fear that you might feel something you’re not supposed to just yet.

[deepspacedarling]

✨ Xavier |❄️Zayne |🎨Rafayel |🐦‍⬛Sylus |🍎Caleb

Dad!Zayne is stressed 24/7. He’s trying to embody the idea of “let children do dangerous things safely” but the second he sees your baby climbing a jungle gym, he’s under them telling them to be careful.

Dad!Zayne has read all of the baby books. He maps their development and keeps a scrapbook of it all. He’s joined some online parenting forums for tips. He's ready for parenthood. And then your bundle of joy comes and he's SO NOT READY.

Dad!Zayne doesn’t let you put the kids to bed when he manages to get home on time. He already misses so much because of his work, he needs all the time he can get. He gives them a bath, tucks them in, reads them stories, anything and everything he can to spend time with them.

Dad!Zayne has so many pictures of you and the baby in his office. He’s usually a private man but anyone who’s met him knows about you and the baby. He’s a little awkward about it but he loves to gush about the baby’s development and how great a parent you are.

Dad!Zayne is already planning. He’s got a savings account put away for the baby’s college fund. He’s setting up day care and laying the grounds for private school. You eventually have to tell him to slow down. The baby is still little. He need to enjoy it while he can.

Dad!Zayne hates taking them to the doctor. He tries to hide it but he gets really upset when the baby cries during their first shots. He hates hearing them upset.

Dad!Zayne likes to hold the baby sometimes and just do nothing. He liked to feel their little heartbeat against his chest. Have their little fingers wrapped around his own. You two are his whole world and he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.