#it was such a bright and colorful and beautiful place

[salynaa]

~Cookie Run Kingdom?Y X Reader

Warning’s : None for the moment, interactive, bad writing.

Author note : This is an interactive story. At the end of each chapter, you’ll be given a poll, and your final choice will have consequences on the story. Play wisely and unlock illustrations based on your decisions. Be careful, not to reach a bad ending!<3

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You awoke slowly, as though surfacing from the depths of an endless ocean. Your mind, still submerged in the haze of unconsciousness, struggled to climb back toward clarity. The boundary between dreaming and waking remained indistinct, like fog drifting across the border of two worlds.

It wasn’t just your thoughts that lagged behind, your body, too, felt strange and distant. Limbs heavy. Muscles unresponsive. Your bones felt hollow, as though someone had carved you out and left you empty beneath your skin. The world around you existed only in fragments, shadow, scent, sound, none of it quite real yet.

Then, a sharp pain. Sudden and jarring.

It bloomed behind your eyes like a violent sunrise, radiating through your skull with a slow, pulsing ache. You winced. The sound of your own breath startled you, dry and faint, like wind scraping over stone.

You were lying down. That much was clear. And the ground beneath you wasn’t stone or wood. It was soft. Cool. Alive.

The tickle of grass brushed your bare arms. Stray blades curled along your jaw and throat, and somewhere close by, you could hear the faint chirring of insects, rhythmic and distant, like a lullaby played in reverse.

You didn’t know where you were.

You didn’t know how you’d gotten there.

But you knew, somehow, that this was not a place you recognized.

The air was unusually clean. Not sterile or cold, but clear, vibrant, charged with something unknown. Every breath tasted of wildflowers and moss, with undertones of damp bark and sun-warmed leaves. You could hear water trickling somewhere not far off, the babble of a hidden stream winding its way through unseen roots. Above you, the trees swayed gently, casting a dance of gold-dappled shadows over your face.

Then, a touch.

Featherlight.

Startling.

Something, someone, was brushing your face. A single finger traced a line across your temple, then swept a strand of hair away from your eyes. The movement was hesitant, careful, like one might approach a wounded bird or a fading flame.

You didn’t recoil. Not yet. It was too soft to fear.

Then you felt two fingers rest just above your pulse, pressing delicately into your neck. Checking. Measuring.

A heartbeat. Still steady. Still yours.

That single act, so quiet, so full of unspoken concern, brought your awareness rushing back.

Your eyes fluttered open. Immediately, light flooded your vision, searing and golden. You squinted, blinking rapidly, and slowly, shapes began to emerge from the haze. Trees, tall and ancient, their trunks wrapped in vines and lichen. Leaves stirred high above in a canopy so thick it let only fragmented sunlight through, casting the forest floor in a glowing mosaic of green and gold.

And then, you saw him.

At first, he was a blur. A silhouette leaning over you, haloed in sunlight. His form shimmered with the kind of brightness you didn’t often associate with people. Ethereal. Blinding.

But as your vision sharpened, the details resolved.

He was… beautiful. There was no other word for it.

His hair was pale blond, the kind of gold that seemed kissed by morning light, soft, subtle, and luminous. It reached the nape of his neck in loose, feathered strands, catching the sun like fine silk threads. His lashes, long and delicate, framed eyes set against skin that was far from pale, warm, rich, and full of life, glowing with a quiet strength that needed no light to shine.

He wore a long robe the color of the wool of a sheep, flowing and weightless, as though spun from silk and wind. Intricate embroidery in soft beige traced patterns along the collar and cuffs, elegant, curling lines shaped like frost or vanilla blossoms. The fabric moved with him, rippling faintly in the breeze, though there was no wind near enough to stir it.

But what held your gaze, what made you forget your condition entirely, was the jewel.

A large gemstone rested above his heart, cradled within the fabric of his robes as though it had grown there, fused into his very being. Deep midnight blue. The kind of blue that lives in the sky just before dawn or in the ocean’s deepest trench. It pulsed faintly, as if alive, catching the scattered light and reflecting it in slow, otherworldly gleams. Looking at it stirred something strange in your chest. Maybe awe, fear, recognition, but you couldn’t place why.

And then you realized, his hand was still on your cheek.

You recoiled instinctively, your back bumping against something hard and rough behind you, the bark of a tree, wide and ancient, gnarled with time. The jolt startled a flock of birds from a nearby branch. They erupted into the air in a flurry of wings and startled cries, vanishing into the canopy.

The man’s eyes, mismatched, soft, concerned, widened slightly at your reaction. But he didn’t move away in fear. There was no trace of offense in his expression. Only quiet understanding, tinged with something that looked almost like… regret.

He gently drew his hand back and placed it over his heart, right atop the glowing gem. His head dipped slightly, and his lashes lowered in an almost reverent motion, like a silent apology.

And then he spoke.

His voice was soft and smooth, carrying the warmth of honey and the softness of morning fog.

“Witches above… I feared I was too late.”

His lips curved into a gentle, cautious smile.

“But no… you’re here. You’re safe.”

You parted your lips, your throat dry and aching, but before you could ask the thousand questions tangled in your mind, his gaze shifted suddenly.

His expression darkened, not in anger, but alarm.

He was looking at your hand.

You followed his gaze, and froze.

A long, dark cut carved across your palm. Not fresh, but still angry looking. It wasn’t deep, but it had bled, a lot. The blood had dried into rough, cracked lines that trailed down your wrist and pooled in rusty patches along your forearm, stopping just above the elbow. It looked far worse than it probably was, but that didn’t matter now.

You didn’t remember the injury. You didn’t remember anything.

Before you could move, he reached for your hand again. This time, his movements were quicker, but still impossibly gentle. He took your hand in both of his, cradling it as if it were made of glass.

He said nothing at first.

Just looked. Examined.

His brows knit together, and a shadow passed through his mismatched eyes. Then, after a long breath, he murmured,

“It’s not as deep as I feared, thankfully. But…”

He hesitated, his thumb grazing just below the wound, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your skin tingle.

“You’ve been lying here too long. Exposure. Wild air. Untended cuts… they can turn.”

He looked at you again, brow furrowing with gentler worry.

“I fear that I might need to bring you to the kingdom. It will be properly treated there.”

The word snagged in your mind like a thorn.

Kingdom?

You sat up straighter, ignoring the dull throb in your temple, and looked him directly in the eye for the first time.

“The kingdom…?” you echoed, unsure if you meant to question him or yourself.

A soft flush rose on his cheeks, delicate, barely-there, and he chuckled quietly, a sound like snow falling over silk.

“Ah… forgive me. That must sound strange to you, how rude of me...”

He dipped his head slightly, brushing a golden strand behind his ear.

“I forgot how disorienting waking can be, even for I.”

Then, he straightened, meeting your gaze with gentle resolve.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Pure Vanilla, one of the main healer in the Kingdom..”

He offered a slight bow, one hand pressed respectfully to his chest, just above the gem.

“But truly, do not trouble yourself with formalities. Just call me Pure Vanilla, please. Nothing more.”

You stared at him, something distant stirring in your chest.

Pure Vanilla…

The name rippled through your thoughts like an echo. Familiar. Like a memory lost in fog. Like a word spoken to you in a dream, just before waking.

His voice continued, calm and melodic, but your mind was slipping again, not into unconsciousness, but into thought. Confusion. Wonder. Fear.

You didn’t know him.

You didn’t know this place.

The forest stretched endlessly around you. The trees were taller than any you remembered seeing before, ancient things, with bark the color of ash and roots that coiled above the soil like sleeping serpents. The light that filtered through the canopy was strange, gold, but tinted faintly lavender, as if the sky itself had been painted in twilight.

There were no familiar sounds. No roads. No signs of cities. No proof that the world you knew even existed anymore.

And yet… his touch was real. His presence was real.

His thumb, even now, traced soft circles over the back of your hand, slow and steady, like a silent promise. You’re not alone.

Then he asked, again, his voice lower now, more intimate.

“So please… Would you allow me to accompany you to the kingdom?”

The forest held its breath.

And so did you.

Pure Vanilla’s question hung in the air like a fragile thread of silk, delicate and shimmering, suspended between two worlds, the known and the unknown.

The forest around you remained still, as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for your reply.

Your eyes searched his, still kind, still patient. There was a softness to him that was almost unreal, like something out of a story. He looked like the embodiment of peace, of safety. There was no arrogance in his gaze, no coldness in the line of his jaw. If anything, he looked ancient. As though he had carried something heavy for a very long time. And yet, beneath that weariness, there was kindness, a quiet, unwavering light that drew you in like a hearth fire on a winter night.

His golden lashes cast shadows beneath eyes that still watched you gently, searching for fear, for trust, for something real.

You dropped your gaze.

The grass beneath you shimmered with dew, though the sun now sat high above the canopy, casting columns of warm light between the trees. Petals drifted lazily through the air, carried on an unseen wind, their colors pale and strange, whites tinged with blue, lilacs fading into silver. You weren’t sure whether they had fallen from flowers or if they simply existed here, as part of this place’s quiet enchantment.

A strange calm had settled over your body, but your thoughts remained tangled.

You remembered nothing.

Not your name.

Not your past.

Not how you’d come to this forest, or what had caused the wound in your hand.

And yet, here he was, this stranger, this king, speaking your language, treating you not as an intruder, not as a threat, but as someone he cared.

Why?

How had he known you were here? Was it just one of fate tricks?

Your heart gave an uneasy flutter.

What if this was all a trap?

What if he wasn’t who he claimed to be?

But then, why the gentle touch? Why the softness in his eyes when you recoiled? Why the look of relief when he saw that you were alive?

He said his name was Pure Vanilla.

He said he´s a healer in a kingdom.

A kingdom you’d never heard of.

A kingdom you might have once known perhaps.

He reached out again, this time more carefully, offering you his hand, palm upward, open, unthreatening.

A simple gesture.

But the moment was not simple at all.

His voice, when he spoke next, was quiet. Not demanding. Not urgent.

Just… hopeful.

“You don’t have to decide right away,” he murmured, as though he could feel your hesitation as clearly as the wind.

“But I could never leave someone there. Not here. Not like this.”

His fingers remained outstretched, motionless, suspended in the space between you.

And now…

The trees whisper around you.

The petals swirl.

And time waits for your answer, Reader!

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Bonus ; First illustration interaction! Just a doodle, the next one will be better, hopefully..

Thanks for reading this first chapter, don’t forget to like!!🫶🍊

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Omg it’s the first time that I use my iPad for drawing, I need to get use to it but I LOVEE it. Sorry for the illustrations, I like to draw but I lowkey hate to finish my drawing, so it’s usually just gonna be sketch!! I enjoy more the writing than the drawing for this concept👅 DON’T FORGET IT’S YANDERE GUYS, don’t trust too much huh 😨

[itzpookiepooh]

Hi 😊👋, I know your probably super busy but I had a request. So I'm a Xav girlie to my core but before that, he was not my type. I'm like a stereotypical goth girlie and before playing lads my type were ppl who shared my similar tastes in style, music, interests, and so on. Like I 1000% thought I'd vibe a lot more with Sylus, but I surprisingly ended up being in love with Xav lol.

My request is pre-relationship lads with an MC who's type is like the complete opposite of them and maybe the aftermath of getting together amd MC being like "how tf i ended up with you idk but i love you so much ❤️".

Thank you so much and have a lovely day 😘

Opposites Attract

Sylus is very calm, calculating, intelligent, many things that have earned him many titles. So when he meets you the complete opposite of him, he wonders how you and him came to be. He likes darker colors, you like brighter colors. You’re always telling him how he needs to liven his place up with some chartreuse and things that express liveliness.

He would listen to classical music on his record player and you would listen to pop music. He slept heavily during the day while you woke up bright and early trying to get him to do things with you. He would glare at you from under his pillow like an angry dragon would. He’d even turn over and ignore you.

Despite all of that, no matter how different you both were, there was still that pull. That spark that brought you both together. No matter how annoyed either of you were with each other’s differences, you still stayed together unable to grow apart. You were like his personal Pinkie Pie.

“What are you smiling at?” You chuckle as you put the watering can down and turn to your loving boyfriend.

“Just thinking about how someone so rambunctious came into my life.” He smirks holding you by your waist. You smile brightly at him a loving look in your gaze.

“Would you change it?” You asked your smile unwavering. “Not for every gem on earth.” He kissed your forehead softly.

Zayne’s always been the type to plan and work hard towards his goals. Always working and setting a goal. His days are fully planned out unless he has sleep to catch up on. He’s calm and collected while you go where the wind takes you. Nothing planned just easygoing and taking it all in always.

Have work in 10 minutes? Bet you can take a detour to the cake shop and still be on time.

You need to run an errand? You will when you aren’t distracted. It’s a never ending cycle with you.

Imagine how he felt when he first started hanging out with you and you were all head in the clouds. He would try to plan out your weekend and you would somehow throw it off. It drove him a bit crazy but Zayne being who he is never got angry more concerned with your listlessness. That was until you guys had a deep talk about enjoying what life has to offer instead of stressing about what ifs.

“We should stop in here.” You pause pointing inside a small accessory shop. Zayne squeezes your hand thinking back to that conversation.

“Yeah, the event will still be there when we get there.” He agreed before leading you inside the small shop.

Rafayel was a very disorganized but organized person. What you saw as a mess was something he saw as organization. It irked you he could just put things down and go on about his business and you were stuck jumping around it. He knew where everything was in his disorganized organization. You needed labels, drawers and neatness.

If he needed inspiration he would immediately pull out whatever for when it hit him. It drove you mad at how sloppy his process was but when you really took a look like really sat with him to figure out why he was the way he was, it shocked you how much you understood. He wasn’t messy per se he was creative in his own beautiful way.

“Stop staring at me. You’ll burn a hole in the back of my head.” He says not facing away from his sketch.

“I’m just thinking about how we got together.” You smile softly as he raises an eyebrow. He turns to you with a soft smile.

“Somehow it worked out for us.” He chuckles as do you.

You and Caleb.

Caleb and you.

Since the beginning of time. Caleb is outgoing and talkative while you were introverted and quiet. He made friends upon friends while you had one good friend. He would go out and party and you would stay home and read. It’s always been like this. When you guys got older, you got closer.

Caleb would constantly try to drag you out with him and his friends however, once you rubbed your feet together it was over for the night. He was trying everything under the sun until you finally told him that you’re not comfortable with big groups of people. It was a long process where he would stay in with you and you would go out with him. All it took was a bit of compromise.

“Night out tonight, remember?” Caleb asked poking in to see you already ready. He smiled kissing your forehead.

“I really want to stay in.” You say fiddling with your fingers. “How about we stay for a few minutes and if you don’t like it we can leave, deal?” He tried to persuade you.

“Deal.” You smile nudging him before he drags you to the door.

Xavier was a night owl most times while you were an early bird. The friendship was bumpy because of that. The early bird catches the worm was your life. If the sun was out so were you. You were chirping with the birds while he stared at you crazily, half sleep.

The night was Xavier’s thing. He would stay up longer to look at the stars in the sky. It was calming and peaceful at night and that’s why he liked it so much. You’d be charging up for the day while he used his battery.

You both found a way to make your relationship stronger when you both confessed. Xavier would wake up earlier if you would stay up to see the stars with him. He explained in vague way how he missed home not in a way you would understand but enough to get you thinking. He told this story before but not as himself but it made you wonder if he spoke so fondly because it was himself he was speaking about.

“You know we’ve come a long way.” You told him as he looked away from the many stars and constellations.

“Yeah, we have. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He smiled softly as he began glowing, small specs of glow floating around you both.

I’m so sleepy today ngl friends be safe in this heatwave 🤍

[sab0dssey]

Flower shop. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader | part one

The flower shop was small, nestled between a closed bookstore and a vintage tailor’s that smelled faintly of dust and lavender. Its window was fogged ever so slightly from the warmth inside, framing a display of dried roses, eucalyptus bundles, and a hand-painted sign that read:

“In bloom, even in grief.”

Inside, the air smelled like soil, flowers, and maybe a little cinnamon from a candle on the shelf. Green vines hung from the ceiling, wrapped around soft yellow lights that made the room look golden. Wooden boxes on the walls were full of flowers, and vases stood like art pieces. The floor made small sounds when you walked. It was old but clean. It felt like someone loved this place. It felt safe.

Simon wasn’t used to safe.

He stepped in, heavy boots against the wooden floor, bringing with him the faint scent of cold air and cigarette smoke. He looked… out of place. Dressed in black from head to toe, broad shoulders, sharp jawline under a trimmed beard, and eyes those tired, haunted eyes scanning the room like he wasn’t sure if he should be here at all, as if expecting something to jump out at him. Old habits. And then he saw you.

You were hunched over the counter, tying a ribbon around a bouquet of soft coral peonies. Your head tilted slightly to the side, hair loosely tied, a smear of green on your wrist from the stems you’d trimmed. You didn’t see him at first, and he was grateful. For just a moment, he could look.

There was something painfully gentle about you. The way your fingers moved as if the flowers were glass. The curve of your back, relaxed, unguarded. You were like everything he didn’t let himself want. Didn’t let himself need. He shouldn’t have come in.

But then you looked up. And the world tilted just a little. He felt it. That awful, jarring pull in his chest like someone had taken his breath and replaced it with silence. You weren’t radiant in the way magazines described beauty. No. You were warm, real. Your eyes met his and didn’t flinch. You smiled, and it wasn’t polite or forced. It was soft, quiet, like a warm hand on a cold shoulder.

“Hi there,” you said. “Need any help?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. He hadn’t expected you. He hadn’t expected this…feeling.

“Yeah,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “I need flowers. For…graves.”

You nodded, that smile fading into something quieter, more respectful. You gestured for him to follow you past the display of bright sunflowers and over to a calmer section—pale whites, cool blues, soft purples. The mourning colors. “Can I ask… who they’re for? It helps to know, when picking.”

He followed, each step like walking through fog. He kept his distance, but the air between you was already different.

He swallowed hard. His eyes didn’t meet yours. “My mum. My brother. My sister. Her little boy.”

Your fingers stilled on a sprig of baby’s breath. “I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a small shake of his head. “It was a long time ago,” he lied. It wasn’t. The ache was still fresh, buried under skin and bone like shrapnel. There was a silence. You didn’t fill it with words. You just nodded. That kind of grief didn’t need explanation. It just needed space.

You moved delicately through the flowers, picking a few stems here and there. White lilies, for purity and peace. Blue delphiniums, for remembrance. A single pale pink rose for love that never dies. He watched your fingers. The way you touched the flowers. Like they mattered.

You wrapped the bouquets in grey silk paper, tying it with a thin twine ribbon. The silence between you both wasn’t uncomfortable. It just was. You handed him the flowers and your fingers brushed his rough calloused skin meeting soft, soil-stained palms.

It was the gentlest contact he’d had in years. Not clinical. Not necessary. Just…accidental. Or maybe not. It was enough. Something small inside him shifted. Like frost cracking after a long winter. The kind of warmth that doesn’t burn, but reminds you what heat feels like. His breath caught in his throat, but he masked it with a cough.

“Here,” you said, “I hope they bring a little comfort.”

He stared at the bouquet. Then at you. Really looked. Noticed the soft curve of your mouth, the small scar by your brow, the way your eyes held the kind of warmth he’d forgotten existed. You weren’t trying to fix him. You weren’t asking him to open up.You were just there, existing.

“Thank you,” he said, and the words felt heavier than they should have.

You smiled again. “Come by anytime. Even if you’re not buying anything. The shop’s always open for quiet moments.”

He managed a nod. Turned toward the door but paused.

“What’s your name?” he asked, over his shoulder.

You smiled again, smaller this time. “Y/N.”

He nodded once. “Simon.”

And then he left, flowers cradled in his arm like fragile ghosts. He walked out with a part of him heavier and another part lighter. And as the door closed behind him, the scent of jasmine and hope followed him out into the cold. And though the world outside hadn’t changed, something inside him had. He didn’t believe in peace. But he believed in you.

And that was a start.

[krumpkin]

Stunning 😊

[oddestishottest]

06/01/25

[linacyber]

Guys, I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in a while.

Had a few issues to work out.

But I'm back and I'm starting to post again.

I hope you'll be interested!

Have a great summer!

[jardineroman]

Walking in the forest

[findusinaweek]

I miss the dirt where my grandpa lives.

[introvertedswimmer]

Mexico 2023

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

every time u reblog those paintings of coloured squares and rectangles I get so happy

“yay yippee” <- me

omg i’m SO glad u like them i love rothkos sm they make me so happy i’m so glad you like them too!!!

[rriverrunning]

the riverlands sound so beautiful 🥲

[dimalink]

Air bicycle – time to drink a tea

Three dimensional scene for today based on videogame Fantasy Zone 2 for game console PC Engine. It is a very brightfull shooter game. About such a colorful and green world. Just like it is everything is in a  grass. And Everything is so light. Bugs in a grass, like this.

And this is my three dimensional scene based on. A magical world. And you are flying with magical thing. It is not a little airplane, not at all. And this is a certain magical thing. Tech. But not a little airplane. Something strange and interesting. With its own construction. And so here grass growing. And purple flowers and casual too.

At last, rabbit invites you to be his guest, and drink with him a tea. You wait for this moment for so long time. And you can fly there with this thing. And you need to pull pedals to fly. It is like air bicycle.

 You are fluing and watch a fantastic views. Which are opens before your eyes. Such things to grow. Some pumpkin, or a big potato. Flowers with very different colors. Bright little sun. It smiles. And it shows that you are flying the right direction. And in the sky, a little clouds are flying in opposite to you direction. In a strange and fantastic place you are now. Just like with a flying bicycle you are in a wonderland. By the way, it is even more, you are fly by sky to a rabbit for a tea. Of course, it looks so close to Alice from wonderland.

So here it is everything so like fairytale and bright and beautiful!

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/ GAMEJOLT: https://gamejolt.com/@DimaLink/games

BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You sit beside Xavier on the bench in the park, watching people pass by as golden afternoon light filters through the leaves. The air smells of fresh-cut grass and distant food carts. A stylish couple walks past, the woman’s laughter musical, her confidence evident in every step.

“I wish I was pretty like her,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, your fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden bench.

Xavier turns to you, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. His brows furrow deeply, eyes widening just a fraction.

“What... did you say?” he asks, his tone remaining even despite the clear puzzlement in his eyes. He shifts his body toward you, giving you his full attention.

“Nothing, just...” you gesture vaguely toward the retreating couple. “Sometimes I don’t feel very attractive. Especially around people like that.”

Xavier stares at you for a long moment, looking genuinely bewildered. The silence stretches between you, broken only by distant children’s laughter and birdsong.

“I don’t understand,” he finally says.

You start to explain, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his unwavering gaze, but he gently places his hand over yours, the warmth of his palm surprising against your skin.

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head slightly. “I mean I don’t understand why you would think that. It doesn’t make sense.” His thumb traces a small circle on the back of your hand. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he states matter-of-factly. “I’ve always thought so.”

Coming from Xavier, the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip.

“You don’t have to say that,” you protest weakly, looking down at where his hand covers yours.

Xavier shakes his head, leaning closer. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. I don’t...” he pauses, carefully selecting his words, “understand how you can’t see what I see.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the pressure gentle but grounding. “Every time I look at you, I...” He struggles with the words, clearly moving outside his comfort zone. A faint color touches his usually pale cheeks. “From a purely objective standpoint, the way you look—” He stops, frustrated with himself, and takes a deep breath.

“That’s not what I meant to say.” He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, there’s a rare vulnerability there. “What I mean is that you’re beautiful. In every way that matters. Your smile when you’re excited about something. The way your eyes light up when you talk about things you care about. How your whole face changes when you’re lost in thought.”

He reaches up with his free hand, hesitating just shy of touching your face. “I’ve remembered every expression you make. I’ve studied them all.” He looks away, embarrassed by his own earnestness. “You’re beautiful. Please, don’t think otherwise.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, as if relieved to have expressed something he’s held inside for too long. He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the afternoon.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

You’re helping Zayne organize his medical journals in his office as late afternoon shadows stretch across the polished floors. The pristine space feels both clinical and comforting—much like the man himself.

As you reach up to place a heavy volume on the top shelf, you catch your reflection in the large window overlooking the city. The bright lighting does you no favors.

“Ugh,” you mutter, tugging self-consciously at your clothes. “I look awful today.”

Zayne glances up from his desk where he’s been meticulously updating patient files. He sets down his pen, the soft click audible in the sudden silence. His eyes, usually so focused on his work, now study you with that penetrating gaze that seems to see beneath surfaces.

“What brought this on?” he asks, his voice filling the room.

“Nothing specific,” you say, turning away from your reflection. “Just... some days I don’t feel pretty, that’s all.”

Zayne stands. He gestures to the leather chair beside his own. “Sit.”

You comply, watching as he leans against his desk, arms folded across his chest. The setting sun through the windows casts half his face in shadow, highlighting the sharp angles of his features.

“Are you overthinking again?” he asks directly, but there’s no judgment in his tone. “Or did someone say something to you today?”

“Just overthinking, I guess,” you admit, fidgeting under his steady gaze.

He nods once, as if confirming a diagnosis. “I see.” He’s silent for a moment.

“Beauty is subjective,” he begins. “But if you’re asking for my opinion...” The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be the ghost of a smile. “You’re more than perfect. Inside and out.”

When you start to protest, he raises a hand to stop you.

“I don’t make observations lightly. You know that.” His eyes hold yours. “I’ve studied human anatomy for years. I’ve seen thousands of faces.” He leans forward slightly. “None of them affect me the way yours does.”

The admission seems to surprise even him, a rare moment of vulnerability from someone so carefully composed.

Suddenly, he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a small chocolate wrapped in gold foil. It’s from the exclusive chocolatier across town—the one he pretends not to favor.

He places it in your palm, his fingers lingering against yours longer than necessary. “Here,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Sweet for the sweet.”

Before you can respond, he leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. The momentary closeness allows you to catch the subtle scent of his aftershave mingled with antiseptic.

“Now,” he says, straightening himself, “wait for me to finish organizing these journals so we can go home. I’m thinking of dinner at that place you like on Fifth Street.” He turns back to his desk, but not before adding, “And no more nonsense about not being pretty. I won’t have the person I care for most questioning their worth.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

You’re sitting on the private beach adjoining Rafayel’s seaside studio, watching him add final touches to a vibrant seascape painting. The ocean stretches endlessly before you, waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The air tastes of salt and fresh breeze. Seagulls circle overhead, their calls mingling with the gentle lapping of water against sand.

Rafayel stands before his painting, completely absorbed in his work. Paint splatters decorate his rolled-up sleeves and there’s a smudge of blue across his cheekbone. The wind tousles his already disheveled hair as he captures the dance of light on water.

A group of beautiful people laugh further down the beach, their perfect silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. You glance down at yourself, then back at them, feeling suddenly out of place in this picturesque setting.

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough for this place,” you whisper, the breeze carrying your words away—or so you think.

Rafayel’s hand freezes. He turns to you slowly, paint-speckled fingers stilling on the canvas, his expression transforming from focus to complete disbelief.

“What did you just say?” His usually playful voice has an edge to it now, sharp as broken glass.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” you reply, regretting having spoken at all.

“No, no, no,” he sets his palette down with a clatter on the small table beside him. “You don’t get to say things like that and dismiss them as ’nothing.’” In an instant, he takes a seat on your side. “Did someone say something to you?” he demands, looking around the empty beach as if searching for culprits. “Which human do I need to have a word with?”

“No one said anything, Rafayel. It’s just how I feel sometimes,” you admit.

“That’s even worse! Your own mind betraying you like this?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “This is an emergency. A catastrophe of the highest order!”

He grabs your shoulders. “You are an absolute masterpiece. Do you understand? A masterpiece. I know art. I create art. I live and breathe beauty in all its forms. And you—” he pokes your cheek lightly, leaving a tiny dot of turquoise paint, “—are the finest creation I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

When you try to look away, embarrassed by his intensity, he gently tilts your chin back. The setting sun reflects in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold. “The ocean is jealous of your depths. The stars envy your brilliance.” His voice softens, becoming almost reverent. “And I would swim across every sea before I let you believe you’re anything less than stunning.”

He wraps his arms around you suddenly, clinging like a child. “Now don’t say such ridiculous things again. It offends my artistic sensibilities.”

He then stands, pulling you up with him. “Come on. We’re going to watch the sunset together. I’ll show you how I see you.” He places a brush in your hand, his fingers lingering. “And maybe then you’ll understand why I can’t look away.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You stand before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in Sylus’s penthouse suite, overlooking the sprawling N109 Zone from stories up. The city stretches below like a circuit board of neon and shadow, vehicles and people reduced to tiny moving points of light. The luxurious room behind you is bathed in the soft glow of artfully placed lamps illuminating his collection of rarities—collections plucked from across time and space.

Catching your reflection in the darkened glass, superimposed over the glittering cityscape, you murmur without thinking, “I don’t know why you keep me around. I’m not even pretty.”

The room falls silent. You hear Sylus set down whatever gem he was examining, the soft clink of crystal against metal followed by his steady steps as he approaches.

“What an odd thing to say,” he remarks, his voice silky yet sharp as a blade, “because you’re entirely incorrect.”

You turn to find him watching you, head slightly tilted.

“Did I hear you questioning your beauty?” A smirk plays on his lips, but his eyes remain serious, almost stern. “After all this time with me, you should know very well that I have exceptional taste.”

He closes the distance between you. He places his hands on your waist, positioning you both so your reflections are visible in the window. His gaze in the reflection holds nothing but admiration.

“Do you think I surround myself with anything less than perfection?” He gestures to the rare treasures adorning his collection shelf—items worth more than most people earn in a lifetime. “Do you imagine I would waste my time on someone who didn’t captivate me entirely?”

His fingers trace your jawline, feather-light. “Hundreds of rare gems, ancient artifacts, priceless paintings—I collect only the extraordinary, the unique.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “And yet, not one of these treasures compares to your presence and beauty.”

When you start to protest, he places a finger gently against your lips. “I don’t tolerate self-deprecation from the one person in this universe I genuinely cherish.”

He turns you to face him fully now, both hands cupping your face with surprising tenderness from someone so powerful, so used to taking what he wants. Your disbelief must show on your face because he chuckles softly.

“Your beauty is not up for debate, not even by you. Challenge me on anything else if you wish, demand whatever your heart desires—but on this matter, I will not yield.”

He steps back after brushing a kiss against your forehead, apparently considering the matter settled. “Now come here and tell me what you want instead of what you think you lack. That’s much more productive, don’t you agree?”

He gestures to the plush sofa. “Sit down and tell me about your day today. I haven’t heard you talking about it.” His expression softens further. “Let’s talk about that instead.”

As you join him, he casually drapes an arm around you, pulling you closer. “And tomorrow,” he murmurs against your hair, “I’ll show you exactly how beautiful you are to me. I have something special planned—something worthy of you.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

You’re absently scrolling through your phone as you accompany Caleb while he sorts through Fleet reports in his home office. The space reflects his dual nature—military precision in the organized shelves and structured workspace, but touches of warmth in the photographs and mementos from his DAA days. The soft glow of multiple screens illuminates the room as rain patters against the windows, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Caleb sits at his desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he reviews security protocols. His uniform jacket hangs on the back of his chair, sleeves of his standard-issue shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms. Despite the late hour, his posture remains perfect—the Colonel, always on duty.

Glancing up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflective surface of a dormant monitor. The unflattering blue light highlights every perceived imperfection.

“Ugh,” you mutter under your breath, running a self-conscious hand through your hair. “I look terrible today.”

Caleb’s head snaps up from his work. “What did you just say?” There’s a sudden alertness in his posture, as if responding to a threat.

“Just that I’m not looking my best,” you shrug, trying to downplay it, surprised by his intense reaction. 

Caleb stands, his chair rolling backward. His eyes narrow as he scans the room like he’s searching for enemies in a combat zone. “Who put that idea in your head?”

The protective edge in his voice takes you by surprise.

“No one, Caleb. It’s just how I feel sometimes.” You set down your phone, touched by his concern even as you try to ease it.

His expression darkens for a moment before he walks towards you. “Hey,” he says, crouching beside where you’re seated and taking your hands in his. “Look at me.”

When you meet his eyes, they’re filled with the same warmth they held when you were both kids, before the Fleet, before the incident—before everything changed.

“I’ve watched you grow more beautiful every single day since we were kids,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The calluses on his palms catch slightly against your skin. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to be with you.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. Rain continues to drum against the windows, creating a private world just for the two of you.

“You’ve always been the prettiest person in any room to me. Always will be. Nothing compares to coming home to you.”

His smile returns. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of people try to catch my eye over the years. None of them even came close. It’s just not possible when my mind can only think of you.”

He presses a soft kiss onto your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “So no more of this ‘not pretty’ talk, okay? Or I’ll have to issue an official declaration about how gorgeous you are, and that would be really embarrassing for everyone involved.”

Based on this request.

[cvnt4him]

Think’n ab cock warming izuku

A lazy Saturday morning, he has to get up later to finish some papers but that's a problem for later izuku. You wake up earlier than him for the first time ever, you admire his beautiful features whilst hes in slumber land.

His forest green hair being portrayed in the most beautiful lighting, said lighting brightening up his face despite being asleep, he's such a bright person he doesnt even need the suns array of beautiful sunshine for that. His slightly chewed lips dry yet so plump and kissable, the freckles that popped out more due to the sun's colors beaming on his beautifully tanned skin. He was gorgeous.

You leaned down to plant a gentle kiss onto his sleeping face, cupping his cheeks as you do so. The touch on his face makes him jolt and try and scoot away, his eyes squeezing shut and annoyance being painted on his features, he groans and tries to pull away but only to stay in the same place due to you holding his face.

Izuku was annoyed and opened his slightly crusted eyes to see your face, his eyes immediately softened. Finally being able to see his gorgeous emerald green eyes, you smile in content. He hums and closes his eyes again before you pepper kisses all around his face.

“ good morning~“

You sing in his ear, making him hum once more. He didn't want to be awake, izuku wanted to lounge around all day and be lazy with his other half before he had to go and teach a bunch of noisy kids, who he did love dearly.

“ you're always awake before me! I'm surprised I managed to get up before you!“

Izuku peers his eyes open slightly to look up at you with furrowed brows in annoyance, he groans and rolls his eyes before closing them again, all you can do is giggle at your adorable husband. You scoot in closer to him and squeeze his cheeks making him huff.

Izuku then sits up and yanks you into him making you bury your face in his chest. Your eyes widened in surprise but you weren't exactly complaining. He holds you close with a tight grip ensuring you can't move even if you tried.

“ go t’sleep baby. ’know you're tired, j’s get some rest hon.“

Izuku lazily gets out, his speech slightly slurred and his voice raspy and groggy do to the morning. He was a morning person, by all means but sometimes all he wanted was to be lazy with his significant other, and you seem to be ruining it by touching him whilst he's trying to sleep.

“ ’zuku m’not tired.“

“ shut up.“

Trying with all of your might you manage to squeeze out of his arms and roll onto of him making him turn over on his back, he groans and looks up to you with angry eyes ones you never really seem to see.

“ can I cockwarm you?“

His once angry eyes were now wide and confused. You wake up and the only thing on your mind is dick? Really? He groans again with a blush to his freckled and still baby-like cheeks, a scar on his right cheek. He was hesitant, he really was fathoming it, debating, thinking about it, whatever you want to say he truly was.

Izuku was having a hard time deciding, he did want you to do that to him only because he was particularly pent up, you two hadn't had sex in about 3 weeks? Thats far too long for someone like izuku, he would never force you to do something of the sort, normally you initiate sex and he happily obliges, but you both have been very busy recently and haven't had time to do much more than hold each other when nightfall returns at the end of everyday.

Izuku finally had an answer, he gulps and looks back up at your happy and waiting eyes. You would've been okay with either answer, really. You just wanted him to be inside of you. With a blush still on his cheeks, he nods to you before looking away.

“ I want a verbal answer my love.“

He sighs at your words, eyes shutting as he clears his throat trying to get rid of the grogginess of the morning time.

“ yes, you can c... cock.. warm me...“

Izuku manages to get the confirmation out as you giggle and lay down beside him, confused he follows you insuit, you scoot back into him and pull down his sleeping shorts just enough to get his flaccid cock out. You stroke him a little trying to get him to harden up, gentle tugs at his fat and heavy cock in your hand, the weight of it is always nice but the stretch is always better. The thought alone brung a smile to your face.

Izuku watched your movements closely, admiring the way you were so sweet and gentle with his member, so careful with such soft movements it made him twitch in your hand. With that, you knew he was ready. He gulped as you turned around and pulled your underwear to the side scooting back onto him and pushing his cock inside of you.

You both wince and groan and make some kind of noise as he tries to push his way inside, you were tight and he felt just how much so, going straight to his head as he gulped down hardly. His brain was getting fuzzy from the intense squeeze to his cock, you really should've prepped yourself first. with a couple of minutes waiting you finally manage to get him inside, he bottoms out almost immediately he's always so needy and impatient when it comes to things like this he ended up thrusting into you making you fall forward and moan.

“ zu what are you.. doing?“

You ask slightly out of breath, he was choking on his breath trying his hardest not to absolutely ram his cock in and out of you like he knows he needs. God izuku was so horny he just wanted to fuck you so badly.

“ s- sorry.. hon I- ngh~...“

He sentence was ended by a muffled groan, you really were squeezing his cock so tight. You take breather and scoot back into him, his cock still being buried deep inside. It makes him moan softly into your ear as you get closer, a beautiful noose that you always welcome and are always pleased to hear. He hums in a whiney tone on accident, getting extremely red when you laugh at the desperate sound escaping your poor husband.

You sigh happily as you can feel his heavy cock stuffing you full, twitching occasionally when you pulse around him. Izuku held you close wrapping his hands around your stomach, he buried his face in your neck trying to lull himself back to sleep, you intoxicating smell so sweet and driving him absolutely feral. He tried so hard to go back to sleep but he was having a hard time, his cock was so deep inside of you and only getting deeper as time passed yet he wasn't fucking you. Not like he wanted to.

Izuku sighed desperately and defeatedly as he looked down at you only to see you asleep with a smile on your face. For fucks sake. There was no way he was getting back to sleep, and absolutely no way hes not blowing his load deep inside of you.. if he even gets to cum.

[oddestishottest]

06/15/25

[linacyber]

The colors of heaven this evening