#love and deepspace zayne fanfiction

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Ordinary Introduction, Wedding Bells

Masterlist Word count: 1.8k Zayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: After seeing his best friend getting married to the love of her life, Zayne can't help but be a little jealous. He never had this feeling before. It's almost like he's longing for someone to love. At the wedding, she introduces him to a colleague who instantly forces him out of his comfort zone. Could this be love?

“Might just be the only picture I ever post and it's not even my own wedding. Thank you @/Millennialgreyhater for being my friend and involving me in the most important moments in your life. It was a true honor to be your best man. I wish you and Sylus the very best and hope I'll get to see you shine for all the years to come. Love, Zayne.” 

Zayne looks at the post he made hours ago again. It was meant to be sweet gesture for a friend, but now it seems his own words are nagging him. "Might just be the only picture I ever post and it's not even my own wedding." 

No, because it is her wedding. Because he has written love off long ago. Because he keeps choosing his career over relationships. Because his work is important. With the insane hours he works, it might as well be impossible to keep a relationship alive. Every girlfriend he's ever had either ends up accusing him of avoiding them, accusing him of cheating, or just bore of spending so little time with him. He's not exactly an exciting man, he knows that very well, but he won't say no when he's asked to do something. However, none of them ever did ask him out. 

Seeing his best friend, the one who always made time for him, get married to the love of her life who quite literally changed his whole life around for her... it makes him jealous. Jealous? No, it is not quite jealousy. It's this strange empty feeling in his chest. Like his heart is there and beating, but there's no warmth inside it. 

It's not an unfamiliar feeling to him. Actually, it is a quite regular feeling for him. But right here, right now, it seems to sting more than usual. Especially seeing his friend dancing with her husband like they haven't been through hell and back together. It's almost as if their love has erased all the problems they've had. 

Realistically, he knows that's not the truth. Zayne knows better than others how much effort it has taken those two to get together again. At moments it has been like pulling teeth, but they made it through because they wanted a future together. It seems a little unfair that they are able to get all of that and he's barely able to get someone who texts him back. 

But the love they share, that is something he wants too. Forgiving, outreaching, helpful, affectionate. Is that too much to ask for? At this point he figures it might as well be. Either way, he's happy for them. Happy enough that it slips out of his eyes and rolls over his cheeks. 

When the song for their first dance ends, she approaches him with outstretched hands, inviting him for a dance. Zayne quickly looks over her shoulder to Sylus, her husband, who gives him a nod. He takes her hand, a warmth spreading through his body. Familial love, a different kind of love but just as appreciated by Zayne. Together, they sway over the dance floor with Sylus’ gentle eyes watching his wife enjoying herself, smiling contently. 

'Zayne, I don't think I can ever thank you enough for all you've done for me, for us,' she tells him as she pulls him closer, overwhelmed by the feelings of the day, 'but still, thank you.' 

'I'd do it a million times to see you happy.' She smiles knowing that he truly means it. Her head lays down on his shoulder and he feels the slightest bit of envy when he looks over at Sylus, who looks proud as can be watching his beautiful wife. The man has it all. Everything Zayne just can't seem to get for himself. Happiness, stability, a partner to rely on. 

The happiness that has been granted to them seems a gift from the gods, truly. He can only hope and pray he'll find something like that for himself someday. 

Just when a strangely green feeling starts spreading in his chest, she lifts her head off his shoulder with a cheeky grin and a glint of mischief in her eyes, 'Remind me to introduce you to one of my colleagues. I think you'll like her.' 

'You must be doctor Zayne.' 

Zayne turns toward the voice, startled by how close it is. He almost jerks back from the person, but then, for a second – just a second – it feels like the air is being punched out of his lungs. The woman standing next to him is positively radiant, shining brighter than the sunset spilling through the sheer curtains hung on the venue's windows. Golden hour could learn a thing or two from you. And then you have the nerve to smile at him, wide and unapologetic, like you know exactly who you are and what you're doing. He feels like he's lighter, floating almost, and that terrifies him. 

'The bride told me a lot about you,' you say, your voice warm and teasing, like you're in on a joke that he's still trying to understand. 

'She did,' he questions, his tone carefully cautious. He's suddenly reminded of the bride's promise to introduce him to someone, to a colleague of hers. Are you... her? You tilt your head, your eyes catching the light, and he feels his stomach drop. 'Are you one of her colleagues?' He tries to sound more casual but fails miserably. 

You nod excitedly, then stop very suddenly, as if to rethink your answer. 'Well, yes and no. I get hired for my serviced every now and then. I'm an artist, but art doesn't always pay the bills, so I also do murals for her company occasionally.' 

An artist? Zayne glanced over at his friend on the dance floor, having fun with her new husband. She's staring at the two of them with the biggest grin on her face, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He raises an eyebrow at her, a silent question why she would send a woman like you his way. But she just shrugs as if to say, "You're welcome." 

He turns back to you and offers you a polite smile; the kind you'd give a stranger who strikes up a conversation on the subway while you've got your headphones on. 'That's interesting,' he offers, his tone friendly but distant. 

You tilt her head again, this time a little more taunting, a slight frown playing on your eyebrows. 'Interesting,' you repeat, your voice laced with amusement, 'that's all you've got?' 

Zayne feels a flicker of guilt, but he pushes it down. Here he stands with this beautiful radiant woman who is giving him the time of day, but he knows this will go nowhere. No matter how much he likes your smile or the way your eyes seem to see right through him. There is no way you'll be able to forgive that his heart belongs first and foremost to his work. How could you? You don't know him. 

But you're not giving up. You're not walking away. You don't even seem hurt by his cold words. Instead, you almost look like you've been challenged. And it looks like you like a challenge. 

'She told me you can be a little too serious sometimes,' you say, leaning in slightly. It almost sounds like an insult, but there's that same glimmer of mischief in your eyes that he saw in his friend's eyes earlier and your voice sweet as if honey drips right off your words. 

'Did she now?' Zayne replies, crossing his arms. He's not too sure if he's annoyed or intrigued, but there's a good chance that it's both. 

You grin, undeterred. 'She did. And I think she's right.' Then, you pause to study him for a moment. Your eyes run over his whole exterior, looking at the details of his neat, well-fitted suit, inspecting the details of his face. It almost makes him a little nervous. Almost. 'If you could paint your life, what color would it be?' 

The question catches him off guard. It's random, yet thought-provoking, and completely unexpected. Zayne opens his mouth to deflect, to say something safe and noncommittal, to protect himself, but the honesty in her gaze makes him stop in his tracks. 

'Gray,' he admits before he can stop himself. 

You laugh, a bright melodic sound, a heavenly sound that makes something in his chest tighten. 'Gray,' you repeat, shaking your head. 'We'll have to fix that.' 

Zayne blinks, unsure of how to respond. 'Fix it?' 

'Yeah,' you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 'Life's too short to be gray. You need some color. Some... chaos.' The way you look at him implies you mean yourself, as if you're the living embodiment of both. The color part he understands and the chaos part... it's making more and more sense to him with every word spoken between them. 

Zayne can't help but smile a little, just a little. 'Chaos, huh? I'm not sure I'm built for chaos.' 

'Everyone is built for chaos,' you counter, your eyes sparkling with excitement, 'you just have to let yourself enjoy it.' 

Before he can say anything else, you grab his hand, your fingers warm and he notices the colorful stains on them. He imagines they are paint stains of some kind. 'Come on doctor,' you say, tugging him towards the dance floor.  

Zayne hesitates, glancing at the bride once more, who is now watching them with an expression of pure delight. He sighs, knowing he's already lost this battle. She will call him in a few days and pester him about you, begging him to take her out. 

'Alright,' he sighs, letting you pull him into the crowd, 'but I'm warning you, I'm not a good dancer.' 

You grin over her shoulder. 'Good thing I'm not either.' 

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Zayne laughs – really laughs – as they stumble around the dance floor together. You must look like a bunch of children at a school party, but for, what feels like, the first time in his life he doesn't really care. 

When he gets home from the party, he realizes he hasn't even asked your name, nor your number. The whole night feels like a blur, like a happy lucid dream. He was on cloud nine and in a few days he's in a sterile hospital again. Strange how a night like this can feel so different from his everyday life. 

He sighs. At least it'll be a beautiful memory. Just when he wants to get undressed to take a shower, his phone buzzes. 

"Hey, I asked our beautiful bride for your number, I hope you don't mind. What are you doing next Wednesday?" 

Next

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[aleksatia]

You had an argument, and in the heat of the moment, you took on a secret mission—disappearing without a trace or warning for six days. He won’t let that slide, will he?

(⚠️ Warning: Slightly angsty and dramatic) 🔥 UPD: Guys, I hear you loud and clear about Xavier, and I'm already working on his full story. Let me know if you want more about the others (or any specific one).

🖐️💥😈 Sylus 

You don’t even make it home.

One second—you’re stepping toward your door. The next—you're grabbed.

A sharp yelp leaves your lips, but it’s already too late.

One hand clamps down on your shoulder, the other hooks around your legs, and suddenly—you're airborne.

"Cargo secured."

A second voice. Muffled. Hollow.

You twist wildly.

Two figures in black masks, sharp beaked visors, curved horns on their hoods.

Luke and Kieran.

You thrash. “Put me down—”

"No can do, Miss," Kieran hums, flipping you upside down just slightly.

"Our Boss gave very strict orders," Luke murmurs.

Your stomach sinks. The car door swings open—

And you’re shoved inside.

Kieran and Luke plop down beside you, silent as shadows.

Then—

Luke sighs. Long and exaggerated.

"Such a shame," he muses. "She was so pretty."

Kieran hums. "So full of life."

Your eyes narrow. “What.”

They tilt their heads in unison. Luke’s fingers drum against the seat.

"He was so worried."

Kieran exhales. "On the first day, he simply waited."

Luke nods. "Second day, he sent people out. Checked hospitals. Crime scenes."

Kieran’s head tilts. "By day three… well, we all knew something had to bleed."

Your stomach drops.

Luke stretches, relaxed. "Four syndicates fell in one night. Just in case one of them had you."

Kieran sighs. "On the fourth day, he realized that wasn’t enough."

Luke hums. "So he started getting creative."

Your breath hitches. "Creative?"

Kieran taps his chin. "That warehouse in N109 Zone? The one that burned to the ground?"

Luke leans closer. "Day five. Still no sign of you. He collapsed an entire district."

Kieran shrugs. "Nothing personal. Just a message."

Luke tilts his head. "And then day six came."

A beat of silence.

Kieran chuckles. "You know, Miss… If you hadn’t shown up today, N109 Zone would’ve been repainted in blood by sundown."

Luke sighs dreamily. "It still might be."

Your blood turns to ice.

And then—Luke’s head tilts toward you.

"Now…?"

Kieran completes it, a beat later.

"Now he has you."

The car slows. Your chest tightens. And then—you realize where you are.

N109 Zone. His estate.

The car door swings open—

And you’re hauled out like luggage.

"Handle with care," Luke hums.

“I am handling with care," Kieran murmurs.

They carry you inside. Set you down with eerie gentleness. Smooth out your jacket. Brush imaginary dust off your shoulders.

Then—they step back. Bow, deep and slow.

“Welcome home, Miss.”

And then—they’re gone.

You whirl after them. “HEY—”

A quiet sound.

Fabric rustling. A slow, deliberate exhale.

You freeze.

And then—you turn.

Sylus is standing across the room. Calm. Collected. Expression unreadable.

But his eyes. They burn.

You swallow.

“What the fuck was that?” you snap, motioning toward the door.

Silence.

He just… watches you.

Then—slowly, smoothly—

He shrugs off his jacket. Lets it fall onto the chair. His fingers move to his cuffs. Undoing them.

One. Then the other.

Rolling his sleeves up, inch by inch.

Your stomach twists.

“Sylus.”

He doesn’t answer. His hands move to his belt. He unbuckles it. Pulls it free.

And you—

You fucking run.

You BOLT.

Straight toward the door. It’s locked.

You curse.

Behind you—he clicks his tongue.

“Oh, Kitten,” he murmurs, voice low, almost amused.

You spin, darting behind the desk. He follows. Casually. Slowly.

“You disappear for six days,” he murmurs, voice smooth, mocking, deadly.

You sidestep. He matches you.

“You ignore my calls.”

You swerve left. He steps right.

“I tear this city apart looking for you.”

You dodge back. He adjusts effortlessly.

“And now,” he exhales, tilting his head, smirking lazily, “you’re running.”

You hurl a stapler at him. He catches it. Drops it. Sighs.

Then—his patience snaps.

A sharp pulse of red energy explodes outward. The desk flips. The chairs crash against the wall.

And suddenly—

You are out of places to run. Before you can move—

He has you.

A sharp yelp rips from your throat as he grabs you, spins, and drops into his chair—

Bringing you down over his lap.

Your breath catches. “Sylus—”

"Ah, ah, ah.”

His palm glides down your back. Teasing. Amused. Smug.

"You made a very poor choice, Kitten."

Your heart pounds. His fingers hook into your waistband. And in one sharp motion—

He pulls your pants down.

Your entire body jolts. “Wait—”

The first smack lands. Sharp. Stinging.

You jerk violently.

Then—the second.

Then—the third.

“Sylus—you absolute bastard!”

A low chuckle vibrates through his chest.

“Six days, Sweetie.”

Another smack.

“You think you get away with that?”

You snarl, thrashing. “You—I’ll kill you!”

"Oh?" His hand presses against your lower back, keeping you pinned.

Then—lower now, smooth as silk, dripping with mockery—

“You sure you can handle that right now?”

You growl.

And then—

You bite him. Hard. Right on the thigh.

His breath hitches. Then—a slow, dangerous laugh.

He grabs you. Turns you over, setting you between his legs, hands gripping your chin—forcing you to look at him.

And then—

You see it. The rage is gone.

And in its place—

Something raw. Something wrecked. Like he’s aged years in just six days.

His voice—when it comes—is low. Hoarse. Unsteady.

“…I thought Ever carved you up for spare parts.”

Your stomach drops.

"You really think," his fingers twitch against your skin, "I was just waiting?"

His eyes flick over your face, scanning, memorizing. And then—softer now, almost broken—

"If you hadn’t come back tomorrow, I would’ve wiped them off the face of the earth."

Your eyes sting. Your hands reach for him, trembling.

You slide forward, onto his lap.

His breath stutters.

And then—you kiss him. Hard. Desperate. Unyielding.

He shudders.

Then—his hands clench around your waist, crushing you to him. When he pulls back—forehead pressed against yours, breath uneven—

“…Next time you disappear,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek, voice shaking with something terrifyingly real, “I’m not looking for you.”

Your heart cracks. You shake your head. You cup his face. Hold him there.

“…You won’t have to.”

Silence.

Then—

His grip tightens. And just like that—

He is never letting you go again.

❄️🩸💔 Zayne

You already know where he is.

Zayne isn’t home. Of course, he isn’t.

So you do the only thing that makes sense—you head straight for Akso Hospital.

By the time you step through the pristine glass doors, you’re already talking.

“I know how this looks, but I can explain—”

And then—you see him.

Standing near the nurses’ station, uniform crisp, posture rigid, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat like he’s carved from ice.

For a second—just a second—his breath catches.

But then—

A switch flips. His entire presence shifts.

Cold. Professional. Untouchable.

His eyes meet yours. And he says nothing.

No relief. No anger. Nothing.

Just pure, hollow emptiness.

You swallow hard. Force yourself to continue.

“Zayne—”

“You need medical attention.”

His voice is calm. Impersonal. A doctor speaking to a patient. Not the man you know.

Your stomach twists.

He doesn’t ask where you’ve been. Doesn’t ask why you disappeared. Instead—he starts listing symptoms.

“You’re pale. Have you lost blood?”

You inhale sharply. “Zay—”

“Concussion?”

“No—”

“Fever? Infection?”

His eyes flick to your scraped knuckles, the dried blood on your sleeve.

And you realize—

He’s not angry. He’s protecting himself. He’s shutting down. Like he already convinced himself you weren’t coming back. Like he already mourned you.

And something inside you breaks.

Your legs wobble.

You sway—

And then—

You collapse.

The reaction is instantaneous.

A sharp inhale. A rush of movement. A sudden, firm grip catching you before you hit the ground.

Zayne’s arms lock around you. One around your back, one under your legs, holding you effortlessly. His breathing is uneven. His fingers tremble against your skin.

“Hey—!” His voice is no longer detached. It’s urgent. Terrified.

He tilts your face up, eyes scanning for injuries, pupils blown wide with panic.

"You—" His breath shudders. “Shit, you're—”

But you don’t answer. Because you keep your eyes closed. Because you know exactly what you’re doing.

And for a moment, it works. For a moment, he’s yours again. For a moment, his walls are completely, irreparably shattered.

Then—

His steps slow. His breathing evens.

And suddenly—

He stops. And you feel it. That one single, damning second of realization.

Your eyes are closed, but you can hear it. The sharp, cold click in his mind as he figures it out.

His arms loosen. Too loose. Too fast.

And suddenly—you're falling.

You gasp sharply, hands instinctively grabbing at him—

But he catches you at the last second, lowering you onto the cold, sterile floor of his office with just enough control to keep you from truly getting hurt.

But barely.

His jaw is tight. His nostrils flare. His hands press into his thighs like he’s physically holding himself back from losing control.

Then—flat, quiet, lethal—

“You lied.”

Your stomach drops. You open your mouth—and then you feel it.

A sharp, aching throb in your knee. It hits all at once—the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of everything that happened.

Your throat tightens.

And then—before you can stop it—

Tears prick at your eyes.

Your voice comes out small, weak, broken.

“Zayne… my leg hurts.”

Everything stops. The air in the room shifts.

And suddenly—

The rage is gone. His walls crumble.

His gaze snaps to your knee—swollen, bruised, torn fabric revealing skin already darkening with a deep, painful contusion.

And just like that—he’s on his knees. The doctor in him takes over.

His hands tremble as they press to your leg, fingertips ghosting over the bruised flesh like it physically pains him to touch.

He leans down. And presses a soft, lingering kiss to the bruised skin.

Your breath catches.

His forehead presses gently against your knee. And then—a whisper, barely audible, like he’s afraid of his own voice.

“…I lost you.”

Your heart cracks wide open.

He inhales sharply, his fingers tightening against your leg, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.

You slide off the chair. Sink onto the cold, sterile floor. Your hands come up, cup his face.

His breath stutters.

You press your forehead to his.

Hot. Unwavering. Eternal.

“Only death could take me from you.”

His eyes squeeze shut. And when they open again—

There’s nothing left but raw, agonizing devotion.

Then—

His hands reach for you. And this time, he doesn’t let go.

🪑🍎🎖️ Caleb

The door clicks shut behind you.

Something feels wrong. The air is too still. Too perfectly controlled.

And then—you see it.

The chair.

Placed dead center in the room.

The apartment is spotless. Too spotless. Like someone scrubbed it raw, wiped away every trace of warmth, every sign of life.

Your stomach tightens. And then—a voice.

Cold. Measured. Absolute.

"Sit down."

You turn sharply—

And there he is.

Colonel Caleb. Not your Caleb.

Not the man who kisses your forehead every morning. Not the man who makes you breakfast even when he’s running on two hours of sleep.

No.

This is the soldier. The commander. The man who could level entire cities with a single order.

And you are his captive.

Your jaw tightens. “Caleb, what the hell—”

"Sit. Down."

Your spine stiffens. “No.”

A flick of his fingers. The chair scrapes forward, slamming into the back of your knees.

You stumble, cursing—

But before you can react—a force clamps around you. G-forces shift. Gravity bends. The chair drags you back to the center of the room.

Then—weight locks around your limbs. You can’t stand. Can’t move. Your pulse spikes.

His face is unreadable. His eyes—stormy, dark, endless.

Like he hasn’t slept in six days.

A tablet activates in his hand.

Several floating screens appear around you, flickering with surveillance footage.

And then—his interrogation begins.

His voice is calm. Clinical. Devoid of warmth.

"In the hours before your disappearance, this man entered your building. Do you know him?"

You blink. “What—?”

He gestures at the screen. A blurry security cam shot.

You squint. “That’s—a fucking courier.”

"Interesting."

A swipe of his fingers. Another screen appears.

"You placed an order at a bookstore six days ago. Three books were delivered. For what purpose?"

You stare. “...For reading?”

His brows twitch.

"Curious. You spoke to the courier for over five minutes. What was discussed?"

Your hands clench into fists. “How the hell would I know?”

A beat of silence.

Then—softer now, dangerous in its evenness—

"You really expect me to believe you don’t remember?"

Your blood boils. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”

He swipes again. More footage. More records. More evidence that means nothing.

And you snap.

"You are losing your fucking mind."

His jaw tightens.

And then—

The gravity releases.

You lurch forward, finally able to move—

But before you can get up—

he’s already there.

A single step. One hand gripping the back of your chair, tilting it back—

His face is inches from yours. His gaze burns.

"Are you fucking someone else?"

Your breath catches. Your pulse thunders in your ears.

And then—

You laugh.

Sharp. Bitter. Furious.

You gesture at yourself—the dirt, the bruises, the blood still crusted on your sleeve.

“Look at me, Caleb.”

He doesn’t move.

“Does this look like a woman having an affair?”

His fingers twitch against the chair. His voice drops to a whisper.

"I’m on the edge of it."

Your chest tightens.

“I don’t doubt that, you psychopath.” You shove against his arm, but he doesn’t budge. “Now let me up so I can strangle you.”

His fingers loosen.

And then—

"Six days."

Your breath hitches. His hand moves. Curls around your jaw, firm but careful.

"Six days. Eight thousand six hundred forty minutes."

His thumb brushes over your cheekbone.

"I couldn't breathe without pain."

Your throat tightens. Your rage collapses into something else entirely.

“Caleb—”

"I searched. I traced every lead. I turned this country inside out."

His voice wavers.

And then—softer, rawer, almost desperate—

"If you hadn’t come back, I would have burned everything to the ground."

Your chest aches.

“…I had a mission. It was classified.”

His jaw twitches.

"Then tell me—" His voice turns sharp, edged with something almost pleading. "Tell me you weren’t running."

You exhale shakily.

“You’re so obsessed with losing me, Caleb—maybe that’s why you always do.”

Silence.

Something in his face breaks. He straightens. Turns away.

Leaves.

The door slams.

And you collapse to your knees. Your hands come up—cover your face—

And finally, finally, the tears fall.

But then—

A soft creak. A shift in the air. Warmth.

Arms wrapping around you, pulling you into a crushing embrace.

You freeze.

His voice is hoarse, quiet, trembling with something raw.

"You’re the only one who can destroy me without lifting a hand."

Your breath shudders. His grip tightens.

"One word from you," he murmurs, "and I’m gone."

You shake your head.

“Caleb…”

His forehead presses against your shoulder.

"I tried. Every day. Every second. I tried not to hold on too tight." He exhales shakily. "But I can’t."

Your heart clenches.

“Caleb, I always come back.”

He flinches.

You pull back just enough to cup his face. His eyes are stormy, desperate, flickering with pain.

"You have to trust me."

His lips part, but no sound comes out.

Then—barely above a whisper—

"I can't lose you."

Your fingers tighten against his jaw.

"You won’t."

Silence.

Then—

He kisses you.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate. Devouring. Starved.

His hands tangle in your hair, holding you to him like he’ll die if you pull away.

A single tear escapes down his cheek. And you catch it with your lips.

“…I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Caleb, I’m so sorry.”

His breath shudders. He shakes his head. 

“No.” His voice breaks. "You don’t apologize to me." 

Your brows furrow. “Caleb—” 

He swallows. 

"If you’re better off without me—" 

Your hand flies up, slaps over his mouth. He freezes. Tears well in your eyes. 

“Don’t. Say. That.” His chest rises sharply. You lean in, press your forehead to his. 

“…You are my universe,” you whisper. 

His hands shake against your back. 

“No matter what we do, no matter what happens—” You press your lips to his, slow, deep, endless. “I will always come back to you.” 

His breath shudders against your lips.

And then—his voice drops, quiet but unshakable. 

"You will never disappear on me again without warning. Not now. Not ever."

🗡✨🌥 Xavier 

The door clicks shut behind you.

You barely take a step inside before a voice cuts through the air—

Calm. Measured. Unshakable.

"Ah." A quiet exhale. "Look who finally remembered they have a home."

You freeze.

Xavier is already there.

Sitting in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, a book balanced in his hand—like your sudden reappearance was nothing more than an interesting plot twist.

He doesn’t look up immediately. He finishes the sentence he’s reading first.

Then—calmly, unhurriedly—he turns the page.

And finally—his gaze lifts to yours.

Cold. Slow. Too calculating.

"Six days."

Your stomach tightens. "Xav—"

"Mm. No." He holds up a single finger.

The room falls silent. And somehow, that’s worse.

You watch as he closes the book. Carefully. Precisely. Then—without breaking eye contact—he sets it aside.

And then—a small smile.

Soft. Almost friendly.

Which means you’re in deep, deep trouble.

"You look tired," he murmurs, tilting his head. "Traveling, were you?"

You exhale. "Xavier—"

"Oh, no. Let me guess." His fingers tap idly against the armrest. "You were simply busy."

A pause.

"Too busy, in fact, to answer a single message."

Your jaw tightens. "It wasn’t—"

"Ah," he interrupts softly, as if realizing something.

His eyes flick over your torn sleeve, the faint bruises on your arms. Then, slowly—he smiles.

"Or," he murmurs, "did you lose your phone again?"

Your stomach drops. Because he knows.

You inhale sharply. "Xav—"

He shakes his head.

"No, it’s alright. I understand." He leans forward slightly, resting his chin against his knuckles. "I’m sure you had an excellent reason."

A beat of silence. Then—mild amusement, carefully laced with steel:

"Would you like to tell me what it was?"

You hesitate.

Because you were on a mission. A classified one.

Because he wasn’t supposed to know. Because you work together.

And yet—he knew nothing.

You try anyway.

"I had a—"

"A mission?" His brow lifts, a polite flicker of curiosity. "Fascinating."

His tone is smooth, unbothered. And that—that is when you know how angry he really is.

He gestures vaguely toward the stacks of reports on the table.

"Tell me, darling, which mission was it?"

You swallow hard. "I can’t—"

"Mm. Right. Classified."

Another small nod. A slow, deliberate blink.

"As are all major operations within the Association."

His fingers drum lightly against the armrest.

"And yet, strangely—" He tilts his head. "Not a single record of your assignment exists."

You say nothing.

Xavier exhales through his nose—almost disappointed.

"And here I thought," he murmurs, "we were supposed to trust each other."

You flinch.

His gaze softens. Not with kindness. But with something far worse.

Pity.

"You must have had your reasons, of course," he muses.

A small sigh, like he’s humoring a child.

"I imagine you thought it was necessary. Sensible, even."

His fingers lace together.

"Just as I found it necessary to send out a search party on day three."

Your breath catches.

"You what?"

He hums.

"By day four, I expanded my resources. You'd be surprised how quickly information spreads when you know where to look."

Your hands clench.

"Xavier—"

"Day five, I began considering alternative outcomes. Some of them, admittedly, rather unpleasant."

A flicker of something colder in his expression.

"Ever been forced to sit in a room full of people trying to convince you that your partner is dead?"

Your stomach turns.

"Xavier, I wasn’t—"

He clicks his tongue.

"Day six, I received word that you had finally resurfaced."

He leans back. Folds his arms. And then—a soft chuckle, utterly humorless.

"Imagine my relief."

Silence.

You exhale sharply. "Xav, I—"

"Did you know," he interrupts, voice light, conversational, detached, "that people tend to avoid looking a grieving man in the eye?"

Your throat tightens.

"Not that I was grieving, of course." He taps a finger against his chin. "I don’t make a habit of mourning people until I see a body."

He tilts his head slightly, studying you.

"But I imagine it must have been quite the inconvenience, being dead for six days."

Your chest tightens.

"You think I wanted to—"

"Oh, I know," he murmurs. "You didn’t want to disappear."

His voice lowers.

"But you still did."

And for the first time—he is no longer smirking. His blue eyes bore into yours, steady, sharp.

"You made a decision that left me in the dark."

A long, slow breath.

"And I need to know," he says softly, "if you would do it again."

Silence.

You don’t have an answer. You don’t think there is one.

He exhales.

Finally, he leans back. Gazes at you for a moment longer.

Then, calmly—he stands. Smooth. Effortless. Precise. And then—he walks past you.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

"Xavier—"

He doesn’t stop. You push to your feet.

"Xavier, you’re coming back, right?"

Finally—he pauses. Turns his head, just slightly.

And then—

"Ask me again in six days."

The door closes behind him. And this time—you’re the one left behind.

🧜🏻‍♂️🧑🏻‍🎨🌊 Rafayel 

You are exhausted.

Every part of you aches. Your body demands sleep, warmth, peace.

Instead—

You come home to chaos.

Loud music. Laughter. The scent of wine, perfume, candle wax, and indulgence.

And then—the sight of him.

Rafayel.

Lounging near the pool, half-leaning against an ornate chair, a glass of red wine dangling lazily between his fingers.

His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to hint at toned muscle beneath, his sleeves rolled up, his perfectly tousled hair falling over his forehead in an effortlessly careless way.

And surrounding him—beautiful women.

Drinking, laughing, leaning toward him like he’s some fallen deity of temptation and excess.

Your stomach twists. A tight, burning rage coils in your chest.

And then—

He sees you. His eyes widen—just slightly. And then—a slow, almost lazy smirk.

"Ah." He lifts his glass dramatically, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look who's finally returned!"

You tense.

He rises to his feet, arms spread as if welcoming royalty.

"My muse. My inspiration."

His voice carries over the music, over the murmurs of people starting to notice the tension.

"The very heart of my art!"

A sweeping gesture.

And then—

He motions toward the canvas-lined walls.

Your breath catches. Because they’re all of you. Dozens of paintings.

But—ruined.

Slashes through the canvas.

Paint smeared and splattered over your likeness like an artist in rage, in agony, in heartbreak.

The fury in you erupts. Your voice cuts through the music.

"What the actual fuck is this?!"

He gasps, mock scandalized.

"Oh, you don’t like them? What a tragedy!"

He downs the rest of his wine in one smooth gulp, tossing the glass aside with a careless flick of his wrist.

Then—he grins.

Crooked. Reckless. Infuriating.

"And here I was, drowning in sorrow, channeling my unbearable suffering into art."

A sigh.

"But alas." He shrugs dramatically. "Seems the muse herself has returned."

You march toward him. He tilts his head.

"Careful, cutie. You seem upset."

"You’re a fucking disaster."

He laughs.

"You’re six days late to that realization."

You grab his wrist, yanking him toward the exit.

“We’re talking. Now.”

His body moves, but his feet don’t follow. Instead—he pulls against your grip.

His smile widens.

"Oh?" His voice drips with amusement. "Dragging me away already? Jealous, cutie?"

Your jaw clenches.

"This is pathetic."

Another laugh, lighter this time.

"Ah, but it was all I had!" He places a hand over his heart. Theatrical. Overdramatic. Perfectly insufferable.

You snap.

And shove him into the pool.

He barely has time to react—water crashes around him, drenching his white shirt, dragging him under.

And for a brief, glorious second—silence.

Until—

His hand grabs your wrist. You yelp, but it’s too late.

He pulls you down with him.

Cold water engulfs you, shocking your senses.

When you resurface, gasping, furious, he’s already brushing his hair back, blinking at you through wet lashes.

And suddenly—

The playfulness is gone. The crowd has vanished. Thomas made sure of it.

And now—it’s just you and him.

And for the first time tonight—he’s quiet. His voice is lower, slower.

"You storm into my house. Onto my estate. Into my party. And then..."

He gestures lazily toward the water.

"You throw me in my own fucking pool?"

You pant, teeth gritted. “Your—house? Great! I’ll leave you in your fucking house—”

You turn to climb out—

And he grabs you again. A firm grip. Unshaking.

His eyes—darker now. Sharper. Focused.

"Make another move, cutie." His voice is dangerously low.

"And we’ll have problems."

You glare. "Let. Go."

He doesn’t. Instead—he pulls you closer.

“You’re not walking away from this.”

Your pulse spikes.

"Rafayel—"

"Do it," he whispers. "Say it to my face."

Your breath catches.

"You want to leave?" His hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer, forcing you to feel the heat radiating from his soaked body.

"Then say it."

Your hands shake. You flick water into his face, desperate to break the tension.

He doesn’t even blink. Instead—his eyes drop.

To your clothes.

Soaked. Clinging. Revealing everything.

His pupils darken. And then—his jaw tightens.

"You left me for six days," he murmurs.

Your breath stutters.

"I left for work, not you, you hysterical maniac."

He tilts his head.

"That’s the same thing. And your phone?"

"A Wanderer shattered it!"

He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"Ah, yes. And I suppose you were also too busy fighting for your life to send me one. Single. Fucking. Message?"

You exhale sharply. "Raf, you’re insufferable. A party? Seriously?"

"How else am I supposed to handle soul-crushing heartbreak?"

His voice drops.

"Tell me, cutie." His fingers skim your waist, trailing fire in their wake. "How else was I supposed to drown my suffering?"

He leans in, breath hot against your lips.

And then—

He kisses you. Desperate. Possessive.

Your legs wrap around his waist, instinct taking over.

His grip tightens.

"You threw me in a pool," he whispers against your lips.

"You deserved it."

His fingers dig into your hips.

"You waltz in after six days and just—throw me?"

"Maybe I should throw you again."

He grins against your skin.

"I should make you pay for that."

"Raf—"

"Mm. Shh."

His hands travel lower, pressing you harder against him.

Your breathing turns shallow.

"Your paintings," you murmur.

"I’ll paint more."

"You hated me for six days."

"Endlessly." He kisses your throat, voice dropping further.

"You didn’t want to see me again?"

He grins against your collarbone.

"Try leaving me again, cutie."

His grip tightens, unshakable.

His breath is hot against your ear.

"And I promise—"

His hips press forward, slow and deliberate, sending a sharp jolt of heat through you.

"You won’t be able to walk for a week."

[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.

[venusdews]

SERVE!

caleb [夏以昼] + female reader + zayne [黎深]

synopsis. who were the cute boys watching your tennis match today? you planned to find out.

genre & contents. 18+! MDNI! tennis player!zayne, tennis player!caleb, tennis player!reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (giving), cumshot, unprotected p in v, nipple play, soft dom!caleb, soft sub!zayne, nasty 3some, pull out, slapping, fingering, slight dirty talk, a lil mxm if you squint, what else to say… wc; 4.5k+

author's note. this came from me listening to the challengers soundtrack… i have no excuse i just wanted to write a smutty zayne and caleb fic (even though this just kept getting longer the more i revised) … enjoy <3

“Holy shit.”

The two men had been sitting on the bleachers for almost two hours, completely enthralled by the girl who was on the tennis court. They really had only intended to pass by after training, maybe stay for a few plays.

It was hard to ignore the whispers throughout Linkon Tennis Club, of a girl who was only on a path to surpass everyone here. Of course, they had been curious to see who she was, maybe skeptical of all the talk surrounding her. But nothing compared to watching her up close.

She was unrelenting, hard-hitting and implacable.

Even as her opponent continued to fall far behind in points, she showed no signs of backing down. It was only until the last set that she let their serve fall on her side, not even attempting to hit the ball with her racket. As if she wanted to taunt him. 

It’s only then that they take note of the man stomping off the court, someone who up until now, had been considered undefeated in their club.

Caleb swears he sees a smirk appear on her face as she walks off the court.

“That was…” Zayne starts, but it seems he’s unable to find the words to describe what he’s feeling right now.

“Fucking hot.” Caleb finishes, eyes still locked onto the girl as she uses a towel to wipe her glistening skin.

Zayne clears his throat, standing up suddenly as if snapping out of a trance. Up until then, he had been unaware of the setting sun. “We need to go.” 

Caleb doesn’t notice he’s walking down the bleachers until the girl is out of sight. He grabs his bag, almost stumbling down the steps as he catches up to Zayne.

He whistles lowly.

“You ever see anyone play like that?” Caleb brings his hand under his chin, unable to shake the image of her on the court. Or, unable to shake the image of her completely. He wanted to know more about her. No, needed.

“No.” It was true. Zayne found himself adjusting his shirt collar nervously. Suddenly the heat of the sun was heavy on his skin. He wouldn’t admit that watching her play like that was enough to have an effect on him.

“You think she’s coming to the party tonight?” Caleb ponders out loud, more to himself. He finds himself hoping to catch sight of her again as they exit the court and enter the parking lot, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Why does it matter?” Zayne responds, tossing his bag onto the top of his car's hood, searching for his keys.

Caleb leans onto the hood, hands coming up under his chin as he eyes Zayne. “Maybe because that was one of the best matches I’ve ever seen, and it wasn’t even a serious one. You’re not just a little curious to see what she’s like?”

Zayne fishes his keys out, pointing his gaze at Caleb’s puppy eyes. “Oh, so it has nothing to do with the fact that you find her attractive?”

“Do you not?” Caleb takes note of the way Zayne avoids his question.

Zayne looks away, unlocking his car door and throwing his bag to the backseat.

“At least I'm not afraid to admit when I like a woman…” Caleb mumbles, hoping it's low enough that Zayne doesn't hear.

He does.

And he locks the car just as Caleb tries to open the passenger door.

He bangs his hand against the window, and Zayne can’t deny he finds his pouting a bit amusing. 

“Zayne!”

He plasters his face against the window. “Open the door?” 

Zayne pretends to not hear him, turning the car’s ignition on.

“Please?”

The doors unlock, a shit eating grin spreading onto Caleb’s face.

“Someone can’t get enough of you.”

Your friend Tara is giggling as she hands you a towel. You take it, wiping your face but not before rolling your eyes.

You knew exactly who she was talking about. It wasn’t unusual for you to gain a bit of an audience when you played, even if it was just a match for fun like this one. But those two had showed up early and stayed throughout the whole thing.

Watching you. And only you.

It was hard to ignore the way their eyes watched your every move.

“They’re not exactly trying to hide it,” you quip, a bit harsh. But maybe you didn’t want to admit the effect the two very attractive men had on you.

Tara seems to see right through you, a coy smile on her face as she throws you a water bottle.

You chug it, ignoring her as you gather your things, tossing your bag over your shoulder. She walks alongside you as you exit the court.

“You know, they’ll probably be at the party tonight.” she sing-songs, skipping to catch up to your brisk pace. You were desperate for a cold shower and your bed.

“Good for them,” she rolls her eyes at your feigned nonchalance. You use both of your hands to scour your bag, scowling when you come up empty handed.

Tara clears her throat and you look up, narrowing your eyes at her. She dangles your keys in front of you, the tiny tennis racquet clinking.

As you reach out to take them, she pulls back. “Tell me you’re going tonight…”

“I can’t. I have practice early tomorrow.”

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes at the weak excuse. She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes as if to say ‘I don’t believe you’.

“I vividly recall you promising me this would be your one night out.” 

You do remember. A promise that came from being tired from practice and Tara continuously pestering you about it. You’d argue it was more like she forced you until you said yes.

Tara twirls the keys around her finger, “I’ll stand here all day…”

Despite her playful tone, you knew better than anyone she would definitely stay here until you said yes. Your mind drifts back to the two boys sitting at the bleachers, the way you might have intentionally played up your skills. The way you felt your body heat rise, not just from your running back and forth.

This was not the first time you had seen them around. A glance of them on the courts, in the dining hall, at tournaments. The two were joined at the hip. It seemed as though they were always together. Practicing together, walking together, hell, they probably slept together.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a tiny bit curious to know more about them.

With a resigned sigh, “Fine,” you say, and her face looks as if she was just handed a brand new puppy. “But I'm taking clothes out of your closet.”

She throws you the keys, already on a tangent about what alcohol to pregame with. But as you enter your car and drive off, there’s only one thought on your mind.

You would make it your mission to get to know them tonight.

To no one’s surprise, Caleb is able to drag Zayne out to the party. He hated coming to any type of social gathering, but maybe the possibility of catching a glimpse of you was enough to get him out the door this time.

Zayne is embarrassed to admit how many times he changed his shirt.

They’re leaning against one the tables, beers in hand as they lazily watch the partygoers. The night was warm, a dampness kissing their skin. As entertaining as watching their drunk tennis club fall onto the grass was, they were really only here for one reason.

You.

However, as the night sky continued to darken, their hopes of seeing you began to diminish with the setting sun.

One beer turns into two, three, four, until their table is littered with empty bottles. Their faces were flushed, and the stars seemed a bit brighter now. Caleb has a permanent pout on his face, gaze on the beer cap he was flipping in between his fingers.

It was unlike him to be so affected by anyone, much less a stranger. He was a bit of a playboy back in the early days of his tennis career, a womanizer as Zayne would call him. Though it was far behind him, now, it was a bit humiliating for him to be so bent over a girl.

Zayne, on the other hand, stayed back for the most part. Not that he didn’t have many opportunities, trust that he had many. But Zayne was never one for no strings attached hookups. A hopeless romantic, Caleb would say to tease him. Though, he had no shame in his beliefs around love.

It was no wonder why he was so infatuated by you.

There’s an eruption of cheers from where people have made a makeshift dance floor, and Caleb lazily turns. His head shoots up, body turning at whiplash speed, causing a few bottles to fall to the ground.

“Hey—!”

Zayne furrows his brows, looking at Caleb for an explanation to his sudden movements. His eyes are wide, unblinking as if he’s afraid to miss whatever he’s watching.

He follows his gaze, and it lands on you.

In the middle of the crowd, there you are, dancing without a care in the world.

They stare dumbfoundedly at your figure, clad in a mini skirt and strappy top. You turn towards them, undoubtedly staring at both of them. Your eyes dart between them, an inviting smile on your face. Maybe the alcohol was making them hallucinate.

Zayne flushes, looking to the side and clearing his throat.

Without a second to think, Caleb is standing up and walking towards you.

“Caleb!” but it’s futile. All Zayne can do is standby and watch as Caleb works his infuriating charm on you, hands coming to sit on your waist with ease.

He hates to admit it, but somewhere in his heart he feels a twinge of envy.

The party is in full swing when you arrive. 

You're surprised to see how crowded it is, almost everyone from the tennis club was here and then some. Almost as soon as you arrive, Tara pulls you to the dance floor (that was more just a patch of shorter grass closer to the music). 

You can’t help the way your eyes scan the room, searching for those two inseparable figures. 

As you let the alcohol flow through your veins, dancing to the music, you find exactly who you’re looking for. 

Sitting perfectly in your line of sight, is the brown haired boy who couldn't keep his eyes off of you earlier. Even now, he’s staring straight at you, and you don't even try to hide the shiver it sends down your spine.

Next to him is his inseparable half, avoiding your gaze.

Your eyes say everything you can’t. An invitation. 

A fishing line thrown into the water.

The brown haired man is up before you can process, making a beeline for you.

“Hey,” he says, unabashedly checking you out with his iris colored eyes. You tilt your head, smiling. 

“I’m Caleb.”

“Hi, Caleb.”

The fish bites, you pull back.

You hold out your hand as an offer. An offer for what, you weren’t so sure yourself.

But he takes it, with almost no hesitation.

You guide his hand to your waist, letting him take control. He sways with you, following the beat of the music effortlessly. When he asks for your name, you tell him with a bite of your lip.

It was unlike you to be so forward, but there was no refusing it now.

You wanted him tonight, badly.

“I saw you playing today,” he leans down to say it, eyes hovering over your ear. The feeling makes you hot, not just from the lingering heat of the night.

“I know,” you breathe “I saw you, too.”

Caleb smirks, eyes lighting with a fire. “You’re amazing.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes. While you (usually) were not one to brag, it was something you were used to hearing. Hearing him say it, though, had a different type of effect on you.

You turn around, grinding against him as the music becomes more sensual. His hands grip your waist, and you swear you hear a low grunt. This was definitely having as much affect as it was on you. Your arms come around his neck.

“Who’s your friend?” You can’t help but ask as you eye the almost sulking man who was still at the table.

You see the way he’s eyeing you, a type of intensity you couldn’t describe. 

Tall, dark hair, chiseled features, and carrying an air of aloofness.

God, he was sexy too.

“Zayne?” he questions, a bit strained but you choose to ignore it. The man rocking his hips behind you, the one in front practically eye-fucking you, it was too much to handle.

Zayne and Caleb.

Was it crazy to want them both?

You twirl to face Caleb, not surprised to see his eyes have darkened into a deep hue of purple. It only encourages you further. “Why don’t we go back to your place?”

It’s bold, you’re well aware. It makes his eyes widen for a second, before a smug smirk appears on his face.

“Your friend’s invited too.”

Zayne and Caleb are very still. 

With bated breath, afraid to make any sudden movements.

The walk to their apartment was a blur, filled with gentle caresses and prying eyes. Caleb was almost seeing stars from the anticipation of getting to have you so close. Though, they were both unsure of what to expect, even through their beer-induced haze.

Sitting across from you, in their shared apartment, they were feeling completely sober now. 

They watch you carefully as your hand comes down to the beer bottle in the middle, using your fingers to spin it. Yeah, it might have been a juvenile game, but you seemed to have something up your sleeve when you suggested it.

And who were they to deny the girl that had them wrapped around her fingers?

Their eyes are glued to the spinning bottle as it slows down, landing…

Right in between Zayne and Caleb.

Their heads whip up to face you, and there’s a sly smile growing onto your face. You stand from the floor, walking to the couch behind you.

You plant yourself in the middle, leaning back on the palms of your hands.

“Come here,” you beckon with a jerk of your head.

Their eyes go wide, and Caleb glances at Zayne, whose face is impossibly red.

“Which one—?” Zayne starts, but Caleb is scrambling off the floor to sit next to you. As if a switch is flipped, he stumbles to follow, sitting on your left.

The air is still, the music that had been playing from somewhere in the room fading into the background. You lean your head back, biting your lip as your eyes dart between them both.

“Kiss me.”

The universe was surely on your side tonight. 

That was the only explanation for the position you were in.

You’re sandwiched by both men, and your biggest problem right now is choosing who to look at.

Two gorgeous, panty-dropping men, in the palm of your hands.

Two men who were staring at you like they wanted to devour you whole.

Caleb bites first, hand coming up to hold your face. His grip is firm, unwilling to let your gaze wander elsewhere. “Are you sure about this, baby?”

The pet name comes out too easily, but it makes you lean into him. You stare into his eyes, unyielding.

“Yes.”

“Both… of us?” Zayne asks, voice low.

“Yes.”

It’s firm. 

And it's all Caleb needs to crash his lips into yours. Behind you, Zayne’s hands wander up your thighs, slipping under your skirt as he attacks your neck, leaving a trail of saliva as he sloppily sucks on your skin.

You moan softly, and the sound makes Caleb's grip on your jaw tighten. He’s shoving his tongue down your throat, uncaring of the way you struggle to breathe.

He relents, letting go of your face. You turn to Zayne, whose face is flushed a sweet pink. He looks completely undone, and you haven’t even touched him. You work to unbutton his shirt, trailing kisses on his deliciously taut chest. As soon as it's off, you trail up his jaw until your tongue is slipping past his lips.

He kisses slowly, gentle with intention. Zayne lets you take the lead, and your nails trail over his exposed biceps. Tiny crescent moons bloom as your nails dig into his skin. He deepens the kiss.

There’s a smack on your ass, and you pull away to face Caleb once again.

“C’mere,” it's a demand. You crawl onto his lap facing away from the couch, back pressed tightly against his clothes chest. Zayne stands, moving to position himself in front of you. From here, you have a perfect view of the prominent erection growing under his shorts.

Caleb pulls your top off in one swift motion and you gasp as your nipples hit the air. His fingers brush over them, teasing and pulling before they trail down. Your skirt is pushed up past your hips, pink lace panties on full display for both of them.

“Fuck, baby,” Caleb moans as his fingers hover over your clothed pussy. “I can feel how wet you are already. I’ve barely even touched you.”

You whine, throwing your head back onto his shoulders. Zayne is watching you through heavy lidded eyes, palming his cock. As sexy as he looked like this, you wanted to put your hands all over him.

“Let me help you,” you stare up at him through your lashes. 

Zayne walks closer, watching your fingers make work of his waistband. You almost gasp when you pull his cock out, flushed a bright red and dripping at the tip. It was big, to say the least. You wondered how much of it could fit in your mouth.

Caleb’s slender fingers slip into your slick folds and you whine, hand faltering on Zayne’s length. It earns you a slap on your thigh.

“Don’t leave him waiting, baby,” his voice is low, and you'd give anything to be able to see his face right now. “Show him what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

His words are enough to bring your mouth to Zayne’s tip. You slip him into your mouth, taking him until he hits the back of your throat. He throws his head back, groaning as his hand comes up to grip the back of your head.

He wasn’t even in all the way.

Your skin is hot to the touch, cunt dripping as Caleb continues to work you expertly. Moaning around his cock, you can’t keep your eyes off Zayne’s face twisted in pleasure. It was obvious he was attempting to hold back his noises, lips held tightly under his teeth. 

It only makes you want to hear him more, so you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his length. With every stroke, his tip hits the back of your throat. 

“Oh, fuck,” Zayne groans as he brings his other hand to your head, hips sloppily thrusting against your mouth. His whimpers are like angels singing. Spit is dripping out of your mouth, your eyes are welling with tears, but you don’t care. How could you deny him such pleasure?

Caleb slips another finger in you, stretching your pussy with every hit against your walls. You moan as his other hand comes to pinch your nipple. 

“Mm, baby,” you grind into his hand, feeling his hard cock against your ass. His breath is heavy against your ear. His fingers seem to know exactly what spots to hit, your unending moans muffled around Zayne's length.

“You feel so good around me.” Your sounds get higher, walls squelching against Caleb’s fingers. That familiar feeling starts to pool at your belly, and he knows you're close.

“You gonna cum for me?” His voice is gruff, laced with desire as he works to push you over the edge. The coil tightens, but you make sure to keep Zayne’s cock in your mouth. 

“Mmmph!” you whine as you feel your liquid fight against Caleb’s fingers, soaking them completely. His eyes are blown wide as he watches your fluids shoot out of your pulsing hole.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers softly, taking his glistening fingers out and bringing them to his face. He can’t help himself, putting them into his mouth. Your taste almost makes him combust right then and there.

“Alright,” he says, looking at Zayne’s disheveled appearance with a smug smirk. “Let me have a turn, baby.”

With a pop! Zayne slips out of your mouth. Caleb stands, pulling you with him. He twirls you to face him now. His hand comes to your ass, slapping it hard enough to leave a mark. You moan, chasing his lips.

He lets you catch him, a gentle kiss compared to the way he just defiled your pussy.

“Bend over,” he says, and you do.

Zayne’s hands come to your waist, holding you in place. You feel your pussy clench in anticipation as you watch Caleb get rid of the clothing covering his hard cock.

And of course, he’s big.

Big and thick.

Enough to stretch your mouth completely.

Caleb slaps his cock against your cheek as he looks at Zayne.

“Why don’t you stretch her out a little more for me?”

The grin on his face says it all as he watches Zayne align himself with your wet cunt. You sigh, feeling his tip gliding against your lips before he slowly opens you wide. The fit is incredibly tight, and you can feel every single inch of his length as he slowly slides in.

Zayne is putty in your hands. The way you’re tightening around him is almost enough to drive him over the edge. His fingers dig into your hips.

Caleb brings his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up. He glides his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs softly, bringing his tip to your lips.

“Go on, baby.”

That’s enough for the both of you.

Zayne brings his hips back, tip just at the entrance before he slams back into you.

You take Caleb into your salivating mouth, until your nose almost hits his skin. With every thrust against your walls, you slide your mouth up and down Caleb’s throbbing cock.

Your moans mix together sweetly, breaths mingling with the hot bedroom air. They’re unrelenting against your gaping holes, and you can feel the sweat dripping from their bodies onto you. A sheen layer of sweat covers them, almost glowing under the low light.

You’re a mess, moaning around Caleb’s cock as he uses your mouth to pleasure himself. 

Zayne’s head is spinning, drunk off the way your pussy felt around him. His hand comes up to pull your hair back, admiring the way your back arches. Every bounce of your ass against him got him closer and closer to the edge.

God, he was insatiable. 

Caleb was no better, unable to keep his eyes off your pretty face. Cheeks hollow, taking him so fucking well. He couldn’t believe how he had you. He was desperate to carve every line and curve of your figure into his mind, afraid that if he blinks you’ll disappear.

He hoped when morning came he’d still be able to see you.

“Fuck, baby,” Caleb moans, “I’m so fucking close.”

He looks over to Zayne, taking in the pink hue that trailed from his cheeks to his ears. His brows were furrowed, tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth.

Yeah, he was definitely close, too.

“Can I cum on that pretty face, baby?” you moan, trying to nod your head against his merciless throat-fucking.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” is all you can muster.

Zayne’s hip thrusts were getting sloppier, and you tightened around him, wanting to make sure he came too.

Something about being completely covered in their seed made you lose all sense of self.

Caleb grunts as he pulls out of your mouth, spurts of cum shooting onto your face, dripping down your cheek. You stick your tongue out, hoping to catch some to taste.

Zayne follows soon after, pulling out of you to cum on your back. It’s warm, endless globs of his cum enveloping your back, falling down your waist. He pumps his cock gently, making sure to leave every last drop to you.

He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on the small of your back.

Their chests are still rapidly rising and descending as they try to catch their breath. In the post orgasm clarity, you can’t help but laugh at your situation.

Never did you think you would have ended up here tonight.

Though, you definitely weren’t complaining.

Caleb falls onto the couch, gaze still on you as he chuckles breathlessly. A mixture of disbelief and incredulousness on his face.

“Stay there,” You hear Zayne move behind you, walking into the bathroom and turning the faucet on. He comes back, gently holding you as he brings a wet towel to your skin. You gasp softly at the sudden contact, but you let him wipe your back down.

The gesture almost makes your heart swell.

Caleb looks at you with indiscernible emotions swimming in his eyes. He takes the towel from Zayne, wiping at your face with the most sedulous care. It’s so sweet, the way they handle you. You’d never think they’d be capable of all the sinful things you just witnessed.

Trying to ignore the way your face heats up as Caleb holds your face, you look away from his soft puppy eyes.

You stand up straight, slipping your skirt and ruined panties. With a flirtatious smile, you start walking to the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Feel free to join me.”

Caleb and Zayne look at each other before scrambling to follow behind.

You awake to two pairs of arms enveloping you, the first signs of dawn peeking through the window. It takes all your energy to quietly slip out of their grip. The two men are too deep in their dreams to notice as you collect your scattered clothes.

You sigh as you hold the skirt Tara let you borrow in front of you. It was ruined completely. She was definitely going to kill you. And maybe congratulate you after she hears of your night.

Clad in a too-big Linkon Tennis Club hoodie and sweats, you’re about to slip out of the room when you look back to the bed.

Gorgeous, even with their tousled hair and soft snores.

Gently, closing the door, you fish your forgotten phone out of your purse. You glance at the time as you walk down the hallway, sighing when you realize you had enough time to make it to practice.

Hopefully they’d come to your next match.

[cosmoszyn]

open arms | zayne.

synopsis: zayne picks you up at the bus station in a downpour, attempting to appease you after a small argument

content: zayne x reader, little hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, banters, reader is a lil stubborn and hard-headed

word count: 2,684

author's note: lol this is very self-indulgent and ... sawrry it took this long, i was swamped with work and several travels. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

cross posted in my ao3

“Care to explain what you are doing here in the rain?” 

“...No.”

Zayne nearly clicks his tongue at your stubbornness. Instead, he presses the hazard lights in his vehicle and darts his gaze at you again, “Come inside.”

You stare at him with furrowed brows, your arms wrapped around your shivering body with the tiny bus stop shed measly protecting you from the downpour. Zayne seems collected, looking at you expectantly through his glasses from his sleek black Audi, his one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the passenger seat with its windows rolled down. The offer is tempting enough, especially with the fact that Zayne has set the temperature just as toasty as you wish it would be. 

But the earlier argument from your shared space resurfaces in your brain. Which warrants you to take a step back and look to the other side of the road.

“Don’t wanna,” you persist, folding your arms across your chest.

Your lover swallows thickly at your words, body resuming to driving position and looking straight at the road,  “Alright. Have it your way,” he says, rolling the windows back up.

And for a second, you feel panic rising in your stomach, knowing that you do want to get in the car and be comfortable! Not to mention that you don’t know what time the next bus will arrive as you’ve been stuck in the shed for almost thirty minutes now, so getting inside his car seemed to be the most reasonable option. But Zayne just pisses you off at the moment. 

Until you hear him adjusting the shift gear and the slamming of the car door. Your eyes followed the sound and your gaze was met with Zayne’s hunched back, his left hand doing nothing from shielding his body from the rain, walking around the vehicle. Your hands fall to your sides as he reaches you under the shed and before you can even get a word out, he already has you over his shoulders like a rag doll and within a minute, you were gently placed in the passenger seat of his car.

You couldn’t even protest when he leaned over your space, “You can roll your eyes at me later but I need you to behave now,” he explains, reaching out to the seatbelt and fastening it to your side. “Because if you think I’d let your idiocy and pride win tonight, you must have forgotten who you are dating.” 

You immediately roll your eyes at his words. In response, Zayne presses his two fingers in your forehead, gently pushing it backward, “I said, behave.” 

He didn’t even give you a chance to reply as he is already closing your door and walking to his side. You fold your arms across your chest again, huffing a breath as you look at your window, watching the raindrops patter on the glass.

Within seconds, Zayne settles beside you, his hair and clothes damp from the drizzle. You take a peek of him from your peripheral vision, watching water drip from the tips of hair to his shoulders. As he fastens his seatbelt, you reach out to the glove compartment of his car, and toss him the box of tissues he keeps religiously.

“You’ll get sick,” you mumble under your breath, avoiding his eyes, insisting on staring at the bus stop shed you were under just a couple of seconds ago. And you know for a fact that Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward in amusement at your attempts to care for him.

“Isn’t someone so caring?” He says, humor lacing his tone as he pulls the tissues, patting himself dry.

You let out a huff, almost sounding like a scoff, “Savor this moment, I guess. It won’t happen again.”

You hear Zayne tossing the tissues at his cup holders by his door, “And someone’s being a little moody too, huh?”

You ignore his comment, continuing to stare ahead at the window with your lips pressed into a thin line. Zayne, on the other hand, could still feel your frustrations and anger directed at him. He shifts the gear of the car and proceeds to accelerate slowly, deft hands carefully pulling away from the curb and driving through the familiar roads.

Minutes of silence engulfed in the vehicle, neither wanting to break the tension bubbling, afraid that it may lead into an argument again. But despite the uncertainty of the situation, Zayne could never seem to find himself staying in this predicament with you. And so, he softly exhales, “Would you like to explain why you were shivering in the rain earlier?” He almost whispers under his breath.

You huff, “I wasn’t in the rain. I was at the bus stop,” you mumble.

Semantics, he wants to say. But he holds off his tongue. “What made you decide to be sarcastic today?” He says playfully, which warrants another roll of your eyes, refusing to even face him.

“Because someone would rather defend an intern for unabashedly flirting with him than side with his girlfriend,” you grumble under your breath, enough for him to hear.

Your lover purses his lips, knowing only himself could be to blame for even trying to make the atmosphere lighter. He dug his own grave at that moment. His fingertips drumming onto the steering wheel as he recalls how the argument came about.

Earlier, Zayne just arrived from a gruelling 12-hour shift at the hospital, ranting about how he had sudden back-to-back emergency surgeries to take care of while he was pressing a kiss to your hair and simultaneously shrugging off his coat and lab gown. You hum in acknowledgment, telling him how you had already prepared him a nice warm bath in his stead. He sighs in appreciation, sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom to submerge himself into the water.

And as he does so, you decide to clean up after him, picking up his coat and lab gown from the rack to toss into the laundry. However, the moment you sling his clothes in your arms, you manage to whiff a feminine scent deeply ingrained in your boyfriend’s lab coat. You were absolutely certain that it’s not one of your perfumes as you have never worn anything so powerful from the one that you caught and the fragrance seemed to be quite fresh, like it was sprayed prior to his clock-out at work.

Your mind spirals with all the possibilities. You were definite that Zayne would never… entertain another woman when he is in a committed relationship with you. You knew his character inside out and if he wishes to see other people, you knew deep in your soul that he’d rather tell you straight up than beat around the bush. 

You feel your surroundings spinning and your gut twisting at the thought that somebody is doing this to your lover. You take a moment to yourself, carefully sitting down at the couch as you continue to cling onto his clothes. As the seconds ticked into minutes, you barely heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and your boyfriend’s footsteps padding through the hallway of your shared apartment. 

“Darling? Why are you still not in bed?” He calls out, ruffling his hair with his towel.

“Zayne,” you say, and he visibly flinches at the tone of your voice and your lack of endearment. You refuse to look at him, your eyes staring straight ahead.

“Is something the matter, my love?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.

You swallow thickly, glancing up at him, “I need you to be honest with me, Zayne.”

His head slightly cocks to the side, “Is there a problem?”

“Your lab coat smells like a different woman,” you say straightforwardly, staring at him with a blank look that demands an explanation and almost begging that none of this is happening. Zayne scowls at your words, “What?” He muttered, taking the coat from yours and sniffing it. Once he caught a whiff of the familiar aroma, he visibly sighs, rubbing his temples and turning his heel away, “It must be that new intern in our department. She seems too eager to be working with me,” he explains in a flat tone, which would’ve been enough for you on a normal day. But for some reason, the gears in your head just turn. “You do not need to worry yourself over this. It’s nothing,” he continued as he placed his gown in the washing machine.

“Have you done anything to call her behavior out?” You ask, trailing behind him, the frown in your face deepening. Zayne clenches his jaw, pressing into the setting of the washing machine “Is it necessary?”

Suddenly, you felt the rage of all your female ancestors rising within you. “You’re asking me if it’s necessary?” You scoff, folding your arms across your chest, “You’re a smart guy, Zayne. What do you think?” You challenge.

Zayne exhales, “Darling, can I ask you to not do this right now?”

“I just need an answer,” you demand.

His face tightens and he sighs, “I do not think it’s necessary as she is just an intern–”

“Then what about me, Zayne?” You ask, cutting him off, “Are my feelings just… unimportant to you?”

You were certain that you were being a little too much right now, especially knowing that your boyfriend has fatigue creeping up on him after his shift. But there was something in you that felt the need to claw out answers from him, even if it’s in an unhealthy way possible.

“My love, I am serious. I would want to have this conversation another time, please,” Zayne calmly says, almost pleading, the weariness in his face growing evident. And instead of letting the subject go, you huff and walk away, “Fine. Have it your way.”

And being stubborn is one thing you know how to do. Because instead of wrapping yourself under the comforts of your duvet in your shared bed, you grab your blanket and pillow while Zayne is expectantly waiting for you to embrace him for the night and lull himself to sleep with your warmth beside him.

“Darling where are you going–?”

“I am not sleeping with you tonight. I am still upset that you did nothing to call her behavior out.”

You thought Zayne would actually trail behind you and ask you to stop being difficult, using his strength to force you back to bed. But he lets you grumble on the couch, settling yourself underneath the thin blanket that does nothing to warm you up. You toss and turn on the couch, desperate to catch some sleep and a comfortable position but to no avail.

Until you hear careful footsteps padding across the living which elicits a thought from you that maybe he will finally ask you to come back to bed.

You wait for his words as your eyes are screwed shut, pretending to be asleep. Instead, you just hear the front door of your apartment opening and closing.

And in your frustration and anger, instead of following him and asking him to come back home, knowing he just went to the hospital to continue working, you returned the favor. You decided to go to the Hunters Association and finish the paperwork you have been putting off since last week.

Which led you to your predicament of being stuck on the bus stop while the rain poured heavily from the skies.

The car was filled with another minute of silence and he’s finding the right words to say to his lover. In the first place, he was never good with verbalizing his feelings, so being in this dilemma makes him feel a little queasy, especially when this seemed to be the biggest problem you two have encountered as a couple so far.

As he continues to file through his brain on what to say, he decides on a simple thing, “I’m sorry.”

You ignore his words.

“You have every right to be mad at me tonight but all I ask of you is to sleep beside me later,” he said, carefully driving through the slippery streets.

“Bold of you to demand that when you just up and left without a word,” you grumble.

“I had to take care of things,” he replies calmly. And in your head, you were already screaming several sarcastic remarks and rolling your eyes until you were sure you could see your skull. But before you could settle in on a perfect comeback, he speaks up again, “It seems I wasn’t appreciating my girlfriend’s feelings enough that I had to let her go through that emotional turmoil.”

You bite your inner cheek, listening to his words. “And I hope she listens to me tonight and comes home because I have already dealt with a rather… nuisance of a trainee at the hospital. Only to find out from my lover’s colleague that she worked overtime and is shivering in the rain,” he says. 

Finally, you turn your head to meet his gaze, which has been glued the entire time on the road. “You did?” You ask, almost in a whisper.

He merely nods, “I could never live with the fact that you feel insecure in this relationship. It is my job to have you feel assured and safe. And if it meant driving back to the hospital to speak with the intern in the midst of her night shift, I would gladly do so.”

Your bottom lip juts out instinctively as you feel your heart swell in his words, “Zayne…” 

“Besides, I could also never stand living with someone so grumpy and hard-headed to the point where she’d let me sleep alone in the bed.”

“Hey!”

Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward as he knows you only focused on the first words. The stoplight glows yellow then transitions into a bright red, opting your lover to pause his driving and turn to you, “Is the little grouchy girl finished with her tantrums?”

“I’m not grouchy! My feelings were valid, Zayne,” you huff.

Zayne suppresses his smile as he presses a hand to your cheek, “I know, my love. Your feelings were and are valid. I apologize if it seemed like I wasn’t prioritizing you.”

You release a small sigh, your lips slightly quivering upward at the feelings of his warm hands, “Okay. I’m sorry too, Zayne. I was being a little harsh and forceful.”

“Apology slightly accepted,” he replies, removing his hand from yours, placing it back on the steering wheel.

Your eyes fly open at his words, cocking your head sideways in confusion, “Slightly?”

“Well you do have to compensate me for spending the night chasing you instead of resting, dear,” he says, pushing his glasses upward. You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion as he slowly accelerates the vehicle again, “What kind of compensation?”

Instead of replying to you, his lips break out a wide smile and his right hand taps on his cheek twice while his eyes remain on the road, and his left hand maneuvering the steering wheel effortlessly (which makes you feel things but you ignore it). 

You raise a brow at him “Just a kiss on the cheek?”

Zayne remained silent. Thinking it was nothing, you shrugged and leaned forward, ready to press a kiss to his cheek. But before you can reach the skin of his cheek, he suddenly turns his head, urging you to plant your lips with his momentarily, causing your eyes to widen. He pulls away from the peck, catching a glimpse of your surprised expression with a smug smirk threatening to pull from the corners of his mouth. 

“Zayne, that was dangerous!” You exclaim, your fingertips ghosting over your lips while heat creeps up your cheeks. Instead of replying, your lover merely hums, continuing his drive like nothing happened, eyes glued to the road as he feels you beside him still recover from the fleeting kiss.

“At least I fully accepted your apology, did I not?”

“Even if it cost us our lives?” 

“Oh please my love, don’t be dramatic.”

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

How the LADS men react to their gf showing physical affection, who is a bit scared to show affection

A/N: a post with all the lads boys this time...hopefully I did them justice

Tags/warnings: she/her pronouns used (should i try using gender neutral terms?), s/o has a little fear of vulnerability (can you see a pattern haha), s/o in raf's may be a bit too specific (she is described to have a passion for music), fluff <3

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Rafayel 

Music softly filled the living room of the artist's house. A classic played, one of Beethoven's symphonies. Rafayel always experimented painting with different music playing, seeing what emotions it could evoke. His girlfriend loved that about him, as she had a passion for music. She smiled softly as she stood in the hallway. Rafayel sat on a stool, his back to her, an easel and canvas in front of him, a brush slowly moving across it. Y/n didn't want to interrupt, really. But a recent breakdown has caused the couple to have a conversation and she promised she would try to be more vulnerable with him. Even though it scared her. She wanted to start small. Right now she really really wanted a hug from her boyfriend. That shouldn't be too much to ask. 

Nervously, she made her way into the room and approached Rafayel. She hesitated for a moment, but continued. “Cutie?” Rafayel questioned, hearing footsteps, but not turning to look or stop his painting. Y/n said nothing and waited for his brush to finish the stroke before nervously wrapping her arms around him, placing her head onto his back. She felt extremely embarrassed. There was no reason to. This was Rafayel. Her Rafayel. Her boyfriend. The man let out a soft gasp in surprise and tensed up. “Wha- you-” he spluttered. 

“Wan’ a hug,” she mumbled into his back. It took Rafayel a moment to process, not used to the sudden display of affection from his lover. When his brain began to work again, his heart soared. He placed his pallet and brush down before turning around and wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her almost too much with a happy giggle. “Mmm. What should I do? This painting has to be done by tomorrow, but my baby needs my cuddles,” he sighed. Y/n tried to back away, not wanting to harm his work. Her ears still burned with embarrassment and she was sure her face matched. Maybe this was all a bad idea. Rafayel wouldn't let her break away, pulling her closer. 

“Sorry, I'll-” she began, but was interrupted by Rafayel quickly dropping his arms to hold her thighs and lift her into his arms. 

“Ah well, what can you do,” he sang. Y/n glanced up at him to see a huge, dorky smile on his face. “Feels even better when you initiate a hug then me hugging you,” he admitted. The girl felt her face flush again and she hid her face in his neck. “Cute,” he pressed a kiss to her hair. “But seriously, I know that was hard for you. I admire your vulnerability. And of course I will happily cuddle you for the rest of the night! Should we head to bed early or watch that movie you wanted?” The girl was speechless and just shrugged, making him laugh. “Aww is my cutie still embarrassed? There's nothing to be embarrassed about.” She whined in response. She felt her weight shift as Rafayel sat down on his couch. Rafayel hummed. “Can I make you be a bit more vulnerable and give me a kiss?” He asked. Y/n sighed and took a brief moment to breathe before lifting her face to look at him. She quickly kissed his lips before returning to her hiding spot. Rafayel couldn't hold back his laugh, holding her tightly as he shook with laughter. 

Minutes later, she heard the TV turn on, the pre-movie credits playing. Rafayel moved his girlfriend somewhat begrudgingly, so that she was now sitting next to him, her legs across his lap. She looked at him confused. He nodded towards the TV. “Kind of hard for you to watch if you're just pressed against my chest, no?” He asked, moving his arm to wrap around her back, the other reaching for her hand and placing a kiss on it. “And don't worry, I'll definitely be getting my real kiss later. As many as I want,” he winked at her. Safe to say he did not complete his painting that night, which wasn't abnormal for the artist. He had more important things to do. 

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Sylus 

The Onychinus base was dark. A few lights leading y/n to the boss. Sylus was in his study, working on something. She wasn't sure what, but she didn't intend to stay long. It weighed heavily on her mind that she never initiated any physical contact with Sylus, her boyfriend. He hadn't said anything, but she had been in her head about it. If she were dating someone and they never initiated anything, she'd think they didn't really like her. She didn't want Sylus to think that. The problem was she's not good at initiating contact. It terrifies her. So even when she wanted to, she held back. But after thinking, she decided she would initiate physical contact, no matter how scary. Starting small of course. Today's plan of action? A hug before she went off to bed. It wasn't unusual for her to say goodnight to the man, but he was always the one to wave her over to hug or kiss her. Tonight she wasn't going to let him. 

The girl softly knocked on the door, opening it slowly and peeking in. Sylus’s brow raised, pleased by the sudden interruption. He looked down at his watch, unaware of his girlfriend swiftly making her way across the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but was shocked by how close she now was. Wordlessly, she climbed into his chair with him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around him. “Just wanted to say goodnight,” she whispered. Y/n wanted to sound confident, but her voice betrayed her, shaking slightly. Sylus smiled, his large hands resting on her back. “This is quite the surprise,” Sylus began, not wanting to push her too far. Of course he had noticed his girlfriend's behavior. He could tell when she wanted a hug or kiss, but then did nothing about it. He didn't say anything, not wanting to push her and trusting she would when she was ready. It didn't bother him that she never kissed him. It bothered him that she wanted to kiss him, but didn't. Sylus was determined to do everything in his power to let you be comfortable to take what you wanted from him. “I always come say goodnight,” y/n tried to play off the action. He chuckled. 

“Yes, and I love that. But,” he hesitated, unsure how to put his feelings into words that wouldn't hurt her unintentionally. “You never do this. Not that I mind. I'm happy you're finally taking what you want from me.” 

“Can I take more?” She quietly asked. 

“You can take anything and everything from me,” he replied. 

“Come to bed? At least for a little bit. I know you have work to do, but-” she was cut off by Sylus standing, carrying her to his bedroom. He placed her down gently, tucking her into bed before getting in next to her and wrapping his arms around her again, her head tucked into his neck. He lifted her head and pressed a slow kiss to her lips, appreciating her actions. “Take whatever you want. Goodnight, love.” 

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Xavier 

Y/n paced back and forth in her apartment. She had woken up in the middle of the night, a nightmare interrupting her sleep. What had caused her to pace however, was a decision she had to make. Her dreams had been plagued with memories of what happened to her grandmother, her death anniversary coming up. When she woke up, she felt horribly lonely and the thought of her boyfriend a few apartments down almost made it worse. She was an adult, she could handle a little nightmare and just go back to bed. Or she could get in the elevator and go see Xavier. He wouldn't mind, right? But her boyfriend loved his sleep. Like a lot. She didn't want to interrupt that. Plus he had just gotten back from a mission, only texting to let her know he got back safe and was headed to bed. She decided she could be stealthy enough, putting on some slippers and heading out the door. 

The building was quiet, which made sense because it was the middle of the night. But it was cold and y/n regretted not grabbing a coat, only in her pj's. The elevator seemed to move slower and she wondered if she should just turn around and deal with this alone as she always had. But the last time she had a nightmare, Xavier happened to be over and she told him she would come to him if it happened again. She technically already broke that promise, having a similar dream soon after but dealing with it alone. This one however, felt more intense. She would not be getting any sleep after it. The bell dinged and she excited the elevator, walking over to his apartment. 

She didn't bother knocking, just using the spare key he gave her and opening the door suddenly. She was a bit surprised to see her boyfriend asleep on the couch- his arm draping off the side. This presented a new problem. He was clearly so tired after the mission, he passed out on the couch, still wearing his uniform. Y/n bit her lip in thought. Her original plan was to just get into bed next to him and sleep, but that wasn't possible with him on the couch. She'd have to wake him up. She'd have to tell him about her nightmare and that she wanted to stay with him. It was too much. As she turned to leave, she was stopped. “Is that you y/n?” Xavier had spoken through a yawn. “Are you okay?” Her hand froze on the doorknob of his door, not knowing if she should book it or not. But she wanted to get some rest. She wanted her boyfriend's comfort. 

“I had another nightmare,” y/n finally said, turning around to see her boyfriend now sitting up on the couch. He smiled sleepily at her. “Mm come to bed with me. Too cold to sleep alone anyway,” he stood, stretching. She nodded and walked over to him, unable to hold back and hugging him. He held her back, saying nothing even when he felt a few hot tears fall on his shoulder. “You're okay now. Thank you for coming to me,” he whispered to her. She nodded and backed away. Xavier gently wiped her face with his fingers. “Let me change and I'll meet you in bed?” She nodded and they headed to his room. 

Once in something more comfortable, Xavier got into his bed, spooning his girlfriend. He sighed happily, nuzzling into her neck. Y/n felt better. Warm. Being held by the one she loved most, she was able to find rest that night. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Zayne 

When the door to his apartment opened, Zayne was greeted by his girlfriend wrapping her arms around him. He was a bit surprised, not expecting her to be there. He hugged her back, not letting go. He always made sure to not let go first, knowing his girlfriend. She struggled to show her affection, so when she did he made sure to not break away early, soaking up all the affection he could from her. Usually, her hugs were brief, but today's wasn't. She held onto him, breathing in his scent. Zayne hesitated for a moment on whether to let go. But decided against it, thinking there must be a reason. “You smell good,” y/n murmured. 

“Is that so? I just got out of a five hour surgery,” he questioned. Maybe she believed she needed a reason to hug him longer than normal because he surely didn't smell good. 

“Oh,” she hesitated, her excuse nullified. 

“Is everything okay?” Zayne softly asked. 

“Yeah, I just,” she hesitated again. “Wanna hold you. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” he smiled. “Not that I want to let you go, but what is that smell?” 

“Oh, I cooked you some dinner. I figured you'd be hungry.” 

“You didn't have to do that.” 

“I know,” she replied, breaking away from the hug to look at him and smile. “I just wanted to. I figured we could eat and then watch a movie tonight?” 

“Sounds lovely. Let me go wash up,” he smiled at her before disappearing into his room. Y/n moved to his kitchen, playing the food she had prepared for them. Nothing fancy, but tasty nonetheless. Zayne had returned unnoticed, only making himself known when he wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek. The two said nothing, only swaying in the kitchen to unheard music. “The foods gonna get cold,” y/n warned. Zayne sighed, but agreed, releasing her to sit down and eat. 

Zayne has refused to let y/n do the dishes after they had finished. Arguing that she had done so much to prepare it, it was only fair he cleaned up. She eventually listened, going to set up the movie in the living room. He joined her, sitting down next to her and grabbing a side blanket- her favorite. Even though she bought the blanket for him to “liven up his house”, she used it anytime she came over, snuggling into it. When the movie began, Zayne watched as his girlfriend excitedly cuddled up to him, pulling the blanket onto them both. They were quiet for a while, enjoying each other's company and the movie. The movie had slowed, the plot not being very intense. “You know you don't have to do all of this to cuddle with me,” Zayne whispered to her. She nodded, blushing slightly. 

“I know. I wanted to. It somehow makes it easier than outright asking for you to hold me. That still scares me,” she admitted. 

“Well first off, thank you for the dinner and everything. It was very nice. Second, you don't have to say anything or do anything grand. You can just pull me down here to the couch or bed and I'll happily hold you as long as you need. I know you show your love through actions, so I'm not saying to stop doing that. I'm just saying it's not necessary or a prerequisite to physical touch,” he explained. She nodded and looked at him with a smile. 

“I know, promise. It's nice to hear I don't have to get to the point of straight up asking you for what I want though. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough.” 

“And if not, that's okay. I like to think I know you pretty well and can understand your hints no matter how small.” 

“Oh really? Then what do I want right now?” She asked, eyes sparkling.

“A kiss,” he answered simply, leaning in to do just that. When he pulled back, he noticed her face erupted into a cute blush. “Was I wrong?” He asked. She shook her head, embarrassed that he truly had known. No one else had ever paid that much attention to her. “I love you Zayne,” y/n told him. 

“And I love you too.” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Caleb 

It was surprising to y/n that she struggled to be “touchy feely” with her current boyfriend. They were childhood friends after all. She was more comfortable with him than anyone, even after everything that happened. Caleb never said anything about it, probably knowing she had this struggle with everyone. He never pushed it either. To him, that's just his girlfriend. She's everything he's ever wanted and more. Sure, she struggles to be a bit vulnerable and come to him for a hug or cuddle or kiss, but that was okay. He was happy to initiate all of that. But for y/n, it was something that made her insecure. In relationships, you were supposed to hug and kiss and sure she and Caleb did, but she never kissed him. She had hugged him plenty of times, but holding his hand and kissing him was another story. She wanted to, of course, they were dating now. But it terrified her for some reason. The judgement from others maybe was part of it, another that for some reason if she initiated anything Caleb would be disgusted with her. She knew it was irrational, but that didn't make it any easier. 

Today was one of the rare days they both had off and Caleb was in town. They had spent most of the day indoors, playing games, ordering food and spending time with each other. But after a while, they got a little stir crazy and decided to head to a nearby park to go on a little walk and then maybe grab some dinner. The sun was out and it overall was a beautiful day. They walked down the path, chatting and messing around with each other. Y/n had run ahead, telling Caleb that he was still the slowest person ever. When he caught up, her heart thumped in her chest, more so due to nerves than the exercise. She tried to be as natural as possible as she grabbed his hand next to hers, holding it and swinging it slightly by her side. She said nothing. She couldn't even look at him, suddenly finding the trees around them to be the most interesting thing she's ever seen. But the flush of her cheeks told a different story. 

When Caleb felt his girlfriend's soft fingers hold his, he thought his heart would combust. He immediately turned to her, to find her blushing and looking away. He was shocked, knowing that this was something that was hard for her. He always said that it was okay she never held his hand out kissed him and he really thought that. But now he wasn't so sure he could go back. “Someones gotten braver,” he commented, making her pout. 

“It's just hand holding,” she muttered, moving their hands in front of them so they could see their hands intertwined. “Oh really? But you've never grabbed mine before,” he reasoned. She dropped their hands back to their sides. 

“Yeah well, a lot has changed,” she shrugged, trying to play it cool. Caleb laughed at her. “I returned almost a year ago and we started dating soon after. And only now you take my hand?” He teased. “Something big must have changed in the past two weeks.” 

“Yep,” she agreed, not breaking her act. “So much has changed that I can even do this.” She suddenly stopped walking and pressed a kiss to his lips. Caleb froze and she took the opportunity to let go of his hand and run away. When he returned to reality, he heard her laughing, his personal favorite song as she ran away from him. “Don't think you can get away with that!” He called after her, running to catch up, a huge grin on his face.

[creative-frequency]

Bothering Them at Work

Headcanons incl. all LIs

Xavier

Is actually the one to bother you at work because no one has ever caught him doing paperwork. Ever.

“Are you still writing that report? Do you need my help?”

Proceeds to never be actually helpful but at the same time you know he would write the whole thing if you asked him to.

You will have time to work on that report only for as long as Xavier’s patience lasts.

Zayne

He has been stuck on that laptop past his 50 minute pomodoro timer.

Which means the next 10 minutes of break will be yours.

No matter what you do during those 10 minutes, Zayne will know when they’re up and make an attempt at getting back to his work.

“Is this a ploy to lure me away from the laptop?”

If you ask nicely and make a good offer, he will usually relent and put the laptop away anyways.

Rafayel

You’re the only one allowed to interrupt him while he is painting.

He is delighted when you do. Though he might whine about it.

He knows you wouldn’t bother him unless it’s something important – like being bored out of your mind, and that is something Rafayel can definitely help you with.

He tends to lose his sense of time when he paints, so it’s a good idea to remind him to eat and stay hydrated.

“Puh-lease, finishing this painting is more important than food right now, cutie.”

Sylus

He is not bothered at all when you cuddle up to him, just continues scrolling and tapping away on his phone.

When you straddle him, his eyes will instantly be drawn to you, one brow arched in question.

“Did you need me for something, kitten?”

If he has something he really needs to take care of, he will just do it, make you wait, and afterwards show how apologetic he is for it.

Caleb

He is a difficult one to bother because he syncs your work schedules so flawlessly. He will usually work whenever you do.

It’s more likely that he will be the one to bother you with his stares as you work.

However, just one pleading look from you is enough to make him put away whatever document or book he is reading.

Seriously, this man folds so fast – you’ve lost enough time already so something as mundane as his work won’t ever keep you from spending time together.

“How about a reward for all this hard work we’ve been doing? I have some ideas.”

[meinii]

“I need a kiss”

summary: how I think the lads boys would act when they’re needy for a kiss! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

Sylus

Sylus isn’t the type to ask for affection outright—no, he demands it. when he’s feeling needy for a kiss, he doesn’t bother with words. instead, he corners you, trapping you against whatever surface is closest, his crimson eyes dark with intent. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his lips already curling into that smug, knowing smirk

“don’t play coy,” he murmurs, voice smooth as silk “you know exactly what I want”

he’ll tease you at first, brushing his lips over yours, letting his breath ghost over your skin, but never fully closing the distance. he loves to watch you squirm, to see you grow desperate before he finally gives in, kissing you slow, deep, and intoxicating. one kiss is never enough for him—he’s greedy, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he could devour you whole. even after you part, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, thumb tracing over your lips, as if contemplating whether to steal another

“hm… still not enough,” he mutters “but I’ll be merciful. for now.”

he makes sure you’re breathless, dazed, and completely under his spell before he finally lets you go. and if you ever try to deny him, well… you’ll only make him more determined to get what he wants

Zayne

Zayne won’t outright say he wants a kiss, but his actions speak for themselves. he lingers near you more than usual, brushing his fingers against yours, standing just a little too close when you’re doing something mundane, like reading or cooking. if you don’t take the hint, he’ll grow more obvious—sighing dramatically as he sits beside you, arms crossed, a faint pout on his lips

“you’re ignoring me,” he states plainly, adjusting his glasses “very cruel of you.”

and if you still don’t catch on? he gets petty. he’ll tug on your sleeve like a child, or even steal whatever you’re holding just to make you look at him. the moment you finally give in and lean in to kiss him, he meets you halfway, a quiet but satisfied hum escaping him as your lips press together

his kisses are soft and slow, drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. his hands instinctively cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin. and when you pull away, he keeps you there, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of your lips before murmuring

“there, much better. don’t make me wait next time”

Caleb

Caleb is shameless when he’s needy for a kiss. he has no problem following you around, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, and resting his chin on your shoulder. his voice takes on that playful, teasing tone, but there’s a clear edge of longing beneath it

“honey,” he drawls “I think you forgot something”

if you ask what, he’ll just pout, giving you the most exaggerated, pitiful look he can muster

and if you still don’t get the hint? he’ll lean in, whispering against your ear

“you forgot to kiss me.”

the moment you indulge him, he melts. his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, making sure you feel every ounce of his affection. he’s warm, steady, and utterly devoted, tilting his head to deepen the connection, as if trying to make the moment last forever

and after? he grins, rubbing his nose against yours before stealing another quick kiss

“mm… think I need a few more just to be sure”

Rafayel

Rafayel is dramatic when he’s needy for a kiss. He sighs loudly, throwing himself onto the nearest couch or bed, acting as if he’s on the verge of death

“I am starving,” he groans, clutching his chest “but not for food. no, I am wasting away, neglected, unloved—”

you don’t even have to say anything. just rolling your eyes is enough to make him crack a grin, but he keeps up the act until you finally lean in and kiss him

the second your lips touch his, he immediately wraps his arms around you, trapping you in place. his kisses are intense, passionate, like he’s trying to pour every bit of his emotions into them. his fingers tangle in your hair, and he refuses to let you pull away too soon

“ahh, finally,” he breathes against your lips, smiling as he kisses you again, this time softer “but I think I need just a few more to fully recover.”

hood luck getting away now

Xavier

Xavier doesn’t always understand social cues, but when he’s needy for a kiss, it’s obvious. he follows you around like a lost puppy, his usual neutral expression softened by the smallest, almost imperceptible pout. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stands close—too close—until you finally turn to look at him

“… I require something,” he finally says, tilting his head

if you ask what, he just stares at you, waiting.

and when you still don’t get it, he reaches up and gently taps his lips with his finger

the moment you lean in and kiss him, his entire expression changes. his hands immediately cup your face, his touch delicate but firm, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. his kisses are slow, reverent—he kisses you like you’re something sacred

even after you part, he stays close, his forehead resting against yours.

“… better,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek. “but I think I need more data. let’s try again”

and with that, he steals another kiss

[starmocha]

I've got this doubt that I can't shake off: if MC's pregnancy, for some reason, is a very tough and risky one (both might die or something), which one of the guys would have the saddest breakdown at some point (just ugly crying into MC's arms after months of keeping it together for her sake) and which would have the angriest (trashing entire offices, taking their anger out on their enemies or both)?

(I had intended to respond earlier, but man…that trailer…) Gosh, you guys know how to prod at that special part of my brain with these asks lately… 🥺 I may or may not have...started writing...little...snippets, really... 😔

Zayne would go into “doctor-mode.” He is going to utilize his medical knowledge and resources to give you the best care possible for both you and the baby, and while it seems you have nothing to worry about, you will feel the emotional-withdrawal from him as everything will feel so methodical and clinical and he forgets completely his role as a husband until you break down crying.

You had tried to keep your emotions in check these last few months, rationalizing that Zayne was never an expressive person, but his feelings and actions were always sincere. He was pacing across the bedroom reviewing with you about your recent prenatal checkup and what it meant for both you and this baby. It had been like this for several months now, and with your weak heart and the risk it posed for both you and the baby, Zayne had been extra attentive about your prenatal care.

As you sat on your bed, heavy with his child and close to your due date, listening to him rattle off different medical terms and speaking to you less as a wife but more as if you were his patient, you could feel your emotions peaking. You couldn’t remember the last time he was affectionate with you or actually asked how you were personally feeling throughout this whole pregnancy. He was by your side more, but you had never felt as lonesome as now, needing him back as your husband and not a doctor. You could feel the tears brimming, but it was getting harder each day to suppress your feelings.

Everything Zayne was saying sounded like muffled gibberish to you. You could barely focus on the present, barely acknowledging even the faint movements of the baby you were carrying, feeling more lost in your loneliness. You finally let your emotions and hormones collide and broke down crying in front of him, startling him immediately. Within seconds, he was on his knees before you, grasping your arms as he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”

It took you a minute to gather yourself before you felt calm enough to speak, finally revealing to him how you hated who he had become during this time. At first, Zayne looked shocked, not quite comprehending what you had just said to him, but the more he pondered your hurt words, the more he realized there was a lot of truth in what you had said.

He kissed your belly, surprising you. Then, he got up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, his apologies immediate and sincere.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “I just…don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

You leaned into his embrace, and sighed softly, “I know…I’m not mad at you. I’m just…”

Zayne looked down, noticing how your words gradually stopped and you were withdrawing again. He lifted your chin, making you look at him as he coaxed you gently, “Just what?”

“I just miss you,” you said, voice breaking again and fresh tears brimmed your eyes. As he brushed your tears away, you cried harder, “And I’m scared…and I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong…and then I realize stressing over this is also hurting the baby and…and…”

Zayne looked guilty as he realized that while he was too focused on your physical health, he had neglected your mental and emotional state, realizing how you had been suppressing your feelings for his sake.

He sat back against the headboard and pulled you back to rest against him. He apologized again for his neglect, and for the rest of that night, he listened and comforted you through your anxieties. There was that familiar warmth in his embrace that you missed, and the softness in his eyes returned as he listened to you earnestly. While your anxieties were still there, they seemed more manageable now that you realized the man by your side in this moment was not Doctor Zayne but your Zaynie, your beloved husband.

Rafayel is angry and emotional and will lash out and say things he doesn’t mean, such as he would rather lose the baby than you.

It had been like walking on eggshells these past few months. You had tried to keep your spirits up in spite of the situation, but eventually everything that had been quieted was going to surface, reaching an ugly peak.

You just had never expected him to say such words to you.

“You…don’t want…the baby?” You felt like you were choking as you uttered those words back to Rafayel.

He looked conflicted, his face twisted in pain and frustration. “I…I didn’t mean it,” he finally said, seeming to struggling with not just his words, but also his feelings.

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. “You said it! What could you have possibly meant to say if not that!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” he finally yelled back, frustrated that his words were being used against him by you of all people.

A strained silence filled the space, creating a rift between the two of you as you stared at one another in shock. In the distant, there was the cries of seagulls flying outside the studio, the sound of waves crashing on the shore a peculiar reminder that time was still moving forward even as you two stood frozen, locked in this seemingly unbreakable tension.

After several beats, Rafayel dropped to his knees, his head buried into his hands as he apologized, though it seemed more like he was apologizing for hurting you and not because of what he had said.

You walked closer to him, surprised when his arms wrapped around your waist, and his face pressed against your rounded stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He didn’t look up at you, but his words were heard clear: “I just can’t lose you again.”

You stared down at his head of hair, unsure of what you could say in this moment. He looked so broken and helpless, and while you understood his sentiments, it still did nothing to alleviate the hurt you felt at his earlier words. Shakily, you let your hand rest on the back of his head, as you said softly, “My fishie…I won’t leave you…”

You said that to comfort him, but even you had doubts about whether you could hold true to your words. It was so bright and sunny outside in Linkon today, so why did your future look so gray and uncertain? This was to be a joyous time in both of your lives, but even as you both felt the baby kicked and moved, that cloud of doubt remained.

Xavier is stunned and feels helpless.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks. Xavier was quieter than usual, but he still answered you whenever you spoke. You didn’t think he was upset at you, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden distance between the two of you.

“Captain Jenna had put me on desk duty for the remainder of my pregnancy,” you told him over dinner one night.

He didn’t answer you, appearing distracted as he was grilling some beef slices on an electric griddle.

“Xavier?”

“Huh?” He looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry, I had something on my mind. What did you say?”

“I…I said Captain Jenna is putting me on desk duty,” you repeated hesitantly.

“That’s good,” he answered and picked a slice of beef off the griddle to place in your bowl. “You should have some more meat for protein.”

“…thank you,” you said, noticing the way his eyes kept averting with yours. You placed your bowl on the table, upset now. “Xavier, did I do something wrong?”

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. He immediately shook his head. “Wrong? Why would you even think that?”

You frowned. “You’ve barely spoken with me lately,” you said, “It’s been nothing but ‘yeah,’ ‘okay,’ ‘alright’ from you lately.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked at you with remorse etched on his face. He sighed as he turned the griddle off before he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I…I just have something on my mind.”

“You keep saying that,” you retorted, mildly irked now, “What could be on your mind that is more important than being here with me?”

“You.”

Your irritation disappeared in that moment, his solemn gaze resting on you. Slowly, you found your voice, your words stuttering a little in confusion, “Wha…what do…you mean?”

“You and the baby,” he clarified. “Ever since the doctor said this was a high-risk pregnancy, I just…can’t stop thinking about…everything that could go wrong.”

“Xavier…”

“I don’t know how to make this easier for you,” he continued, suddenly unable to hide his anxiety any longer, “And even if we do everything right, what if things go wrong at the last minute? What if—no, just…no…”

You gasped when he suddenly came to you, his arms wrapped around you immediately in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and apologized again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Xavier…it will be alright,” you reassured him.

He was silent.

“We’ll both be alright,” you continued.

“Right…” he answered, but you noticed he still didn’t want to let you go. You also didn’t want him to part, so you both remained in this moment a while longer.

Sylus has all of the money and connections in the world. He is going to ensure that both you and the baby will be alright throughout the pregnancy until birth. On the surface, he seems calm and confident, but to keener eyes, such as yours, you will pick up on his anxiety through little tics or behavioral changes.

The moment you had told Sylus you were pregnant with his baby, he lavished you with even more luxuries than before. You received the best care possible, especially when it came to light that this pregnancy was not going to be easy for you and there was concern about the health of the baby. Sylus made sure the most qualified doctors were monitoring you and he had ordered the personal chefs to prepare only nutritional dishes for you and the baby.

He was adamant that you received only the best of the best, and to strangers, Sylus appeared to be so level-headed and grounded, not a trace of worry could be seen on his face.

You, however, noticed how he seemed to drum his fingers on hard surfaces more often. He would also pull out his coin to flip at the most peculiar time, and his visits to the boxing ring also seemed to have increased. There were so many odd tics that you couldn’t ignore, but you suspected you knew the reason why.

One evening, you slipped into bed earlier while Sylus was still sleeping. It would almost be time for him to wake up from his slumber, so you waited. When you noticed the fluttering of his eyes, you leaned in closer, smiling as your face was the first thing he saw once he awoken.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a mischievous smile, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Mm…morning,” he answered back in amusement, still a little groggy and bleary-eyed. He yawned. “What did I do to deserve seeing such a sweet sight first thing after waking up?”

“I wanted to talk.”

His mirth disappeared in that instance upon hearing your stern tone. He shifted in bed, sitting up with his back to the headboard. “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me.”

Sylus shook his head in confusion. “Sweetie, you are going to have to elaborate more,” he responded with a frown. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you…worried?”

“Worry?”

You rested a hand over your belly, his gaze instantly following your movement. “About the pregnancy,” you clarified.

“Of course I worry,” he answered back in that same even tone.

“You…seemed so assured, but lately, I’ve noticed these little…tics,” you explained, elaborating to him more in details as he listened patiently. When you finished, Sylus gently pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his. His arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your belly to rub gentle little circles.

“I will always worry about you,” he said, “but panicking over things will not achieve anything, so I just redirected my worries elsewhere. Is that a problem?”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, I was just…wondering if you wanted to talk about them with me.”

He laughed and bent down to peck your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to?”

He smiled in amusement and kissed you again. “Then who am I to argue with my pregnant wife?”

“What would you do?”

“Do what?”

“If…I don’t ma—”

“You will be fine,” he immediately cut you off, his demeanor shifting entirely. “You will both be fine.”

“But—”

He lay back down in bed, pulling you closer to him in a tighter embrace. “Lull me to sleep,” he said instead.

“But isn’t it time for you to wake—” You clammed up when he shot you a pointed look. You could sense his unease, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh a little more. He was upset, deeply troubled, and you hated how he carried that burden alone on his shoulders.

“Alright,” you answered, snuggling into his embrace. You sang a song, a lullaby you had learned recently that you hoped to sing to your baby in a few months. As you sang, Sylus quietly hummed along, and it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep together, your worries left behind as you dreamed of the upcoming months when a new bundle of joy would arrive at Onychinus’ base.

Caleb is nervous, but he pours himself into taking care of you, because that is all he has ever known. He’s never liked seeing you ill or hurt, so he is going to do everything possible to make sure you receive the best care ever. He will do a lot of research and ask as many questions as he could to gain insight on what can be done to minimize the risk so both you and the baby will make through the pregnancy as safely as possible. He does not even want to consider the possibility of losing you.

You didn’t have any autonomy over yourself anymore. Whatever you wanted to do, Caleb did it for you first. Whatever you were craving, he would negate it half the time, citing it was better for you to eat a healthier alternative.

Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you knew he was doing this out of worry after the reveal that there were some concerns about this pregnancy. The moment that you had heard the word “risky,” everything afterwards suddenly sounded muffled as you were frozen in shock, a sudden anxiety creeping in as you stared down at your belly. Meanwhile, Caleb was already proactive, asking what needed to be done, what you both needed to be aware of, and so on and so forth. As if he could sense your worries, his hands immediately rested on your shoulders as he stood behind you while he continued to converse with the doctor.

He was your pillar and your protector. He always was, and he always will be.

Even if sometimes you found him to be overbearing.

You had missed many of his more indulgent dishes ever since he had put you on a clean-diet, and each time, you made a point of letting him know just how upset you were as you sulked when he finished setting the table with steamed fish and green veggies with bamboo shoots.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you picked at the fish half-heartedly.

“Most women get to enjoy their cravings while pregnant,” you said sullenly, taking a small bite of the fish.

He nodded in agreement as he sat down opposite of you. “If this was a normal pregnancy, then of course you should be able to indulge on your cravings—”

You looked at him hopefully.

“But your cholesterol level is higher than normal, and we also need to be cautious about the risk of developing gestational diabetes—”

You sulked again. “You are killing my appetite again.”

Caleb laughed softly as he set his chopsticks down. He cocked his head to the side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table. “What are you craving, pipsqueak?”

“What does it matter? You won’t let me have anything…” You bit into your bamboo shoot, not making eye contact with him.

“Pretend I will,” he answered in the same tone.

You shrugged. “…Pasta.”

“Pasta? Okay,” he answered thoughtfully, “What else?”

“Hmm…pizza…cheesecake…dumplings…”

Caleb covered his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched you list each food longingly, practically lost in your own world and not even paying attention to him anymore. When it seemed you had finished listing, he questioned you again, “That’s all?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“What else is there? You’ve practically listed all of the food available on takeout menus,” he teased.

“…Braised chicken wings…”

Caleb looked surprised. “What?”

“Your braised chicken wings,” you clarified and looked up to meet his surprised gaze.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make some braised chicken wings tomorrow for dinner.”

You perked up. “R-really?” You eyed him suspiciously. “What about my clean diet?”

“In moderation would be fine,” he answered, smiling, “Besides, having the mother of my child miserable the whole time is also not good for the baby.”

You huffed at him, annoyed. “I’m miserable because of you.”

He blinked, not expecting you to suddenly be mad at him again. “I’m only—”

“I can’t enjoy the food I like, I’m tired all of the time, I can’t even see my feet anymore, my back hurts, my feet are swollen—how am I fat when I’m not even eating anything yummy?!”

“…are you having a mood swing?”

“Yes!” you cried out hysterically, nearly sobbing, “It’s your fault, too, I can’t control my hormones right now!”

Caleb laughed helplessly as he stood from his seat and crossed over to your side. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried against his stomach as you continued to cry and list your grievances with him.

“Alright, alright, it is my fault I gotten you pregnant,” he agreed. He peered down at the top of your head, smiling when you sniffled against his shirt while he rubbed the back of your head soothingly.

“…dummy…”

“Yes, yes, I’m a dummy,” he continued in a very pacifying tone.

“…A big dummy…”

“Mmhmm…”

“The biggest…”

“Right, right…”

You looked up, suspicious again when he continued to be very agreeable. You yelped in surprise when he immediately grabbed your face and leaned down to steal your lips with his. It took you a few seconds to register that he was kissing you before you gave in, feeling a warmth in your chest at his sudden display of affections.

“What else?” he asked softly when he pulled back a few centimeters, still close enough that his breath brushed against your trembling lips while his eyes locked with yours. You could feel his thumb brushing away the tears that were still on your cheeks.

“…you…”

“Me?”

“Uh huh…”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just you…”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak,” he said, “You have me. I am all yours. Forever.”

You guided his hand down to your pregnant belly, smiling when that same look of surprise crossed his face again when he felt the baby kicked. Your smile widened as you answered him, “You’re ours.”

He knelt down on one knee, his large hand still resting over your belly as he smiled back before his eyes drifted down to your stomach. “Yeah,” he said, sighing almost as if in disbelief by this current life he was living, “Both of yours. Forever.”

[sylusslittlekitten]

Sanctuary

Genre: 🔞 Menstruating Reader x Zayne

Warnings: Period sEx, for those who menstruate, 4play, p-in-v, shower sEx, mentions of blood, mentions of Zayne’s duties as a doctor, stimulation.

Summary: You're in pain with your period and you need both Zayne and Dr Zayne’s attention.

Reference:

Word count: 2638 words

Notes: It's been a while and I'm sketchy. Somehow this one is long. How? LOL - May edit later. Self indulgent piece as well as an ask!

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You barely make it through his door.

Your shoulders slumped, carrying the weight of the world. The daily grind absorbed all your energies, leaving your body sluggish. Not to mention your pounding head, and the incessant cramps that started at lunchtime.

Your phone buzzes, a message blaring up the screen:

Zayne: Are you home?

You don’t even respond. Just drop your bag, kick off your shoes at the entryway, and collapse onto the sofa with a low, heavy groan. It’s not that you don’t want to reply. You just need to get into your comfy space.

Ten minutes later—he’s there.

No knock. No grandeur. Just the sound of his thumb unlocking the door, and the quiet click of it closing behind him. His calming aura instantly chased away the tension in the air.

He finds you on the sofa, curled into yourself. Knees tight to your chest. A furrow in your brow. Buried under the plush blanket he throws over the back of the couch.

Zayne crouches beside you. His fingers brushing the hair away from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear. He studies you—hazel eyes sharp, taking in your flushed cheeks. The way you clutch your abdomen tightly.

“I told you to call me,” his voice low, hushed and kind.

You try to smirk at him but fail, appearing more of a grimace than anything playful. “Didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” he murmurs.

You try to open your mouth to protest, but he was already moving.

While curled up under the blanket, you can hear him in the kitchen. The bubbling sound of a kettle mixed with a slight whistle of steam.

He returns with a hot drink. Fragrant tendrils filling the air as he places it on the side table next to you. It was one of those herbal concoctions he always made, and while they sound more like medicine, they taste divine. A scent of lemon, ginger, honey, and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on—it always helped.

“Sit up.”

His hands are on you, supporting you, guiding you to sit upright in your struggle. He cups your hand, encouraging it open so he can place painkillers into your palm.

Then without a moment to waste, he turns to the kitchen. One swift motion that stirs the steam from the cup now in your hand. Returning quickly, hot water bottle in one hand, and a towel in the other, wrapping it around the bottle before handing it to you.

”Not directly on your skin, Darling,” looking down at your lap, “over the blanket is best.”

You obey. You always do with Zayne. Something about his tone—it was never forceful, but it left no room for resistance.

After grabbing his notes, he returns to the sofa. Sitting across from you, offering his lap for your feet. Elevating your legs slightly so you can stretch out while he works.

His sleeves are rolled up. Your eyes fixate on the scars across his skin, stretching across the muscle and veins as he scribbles across his notes. His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, accentuating the colour of his eyes all the more. Flitting from side to side as he pours over the words on the page. At complete ease, as someone used to chaos.

You on the other hand. You were just trying to keep from curling in on yourself again. The pain was constant. Your body feels heavy, warm, and completely wrong. Still bloated. Still cramping.

“Still hurts?” he queries, putting the notes and his glasses down on the table.

He raises himself from the sofa, standing beside you, encouraging you forward so he can squeeze in behind you. Pulling you gently between his legs, your back resting against his chest.

”Better?”

You shake your head gently.

His presence is soothing. His body warmth radiating through your back, while the hot water bottle rests in your lap. Your hands wrapping around your stomach.

Then his hands move.

”May I?”

You nod, moving your hands away from your stomach as he replaces the space. Much larger than your own, his hands press gently against your clothes. Slowly circling in just the right place, friction creating warmth. Massaging your stomach in the hopes to ease the pain.

As the pain starts to subside, your head lolls back against his shoulder. A whimper that shouldn’t sound the way it does leaves your throat softly. Zayne’s throat catches it, swallowing hard, trying to ignore it.

He doesn’t rush. Just continues circling. Until you stop whimpering and start to moan.

Your little sounds were getting harder to resist. Affecting him in places he’s sure you can feel. He coughs a little, trying to clear his throat. Trying to distract himself. You’re in pain, he can’t find this a turn-on right now.

And yes, you notice.

His hardness pressing against your lower back and you can’t ignore it. The pain in your stomach slowly switches to an ache. Making you squirm between his legs.

The air changes. The atmosphere becoming more tense. You can both feel it. His cheek brushes against the side of your head as he adjusts his hands on you. One sliding under your top— his slightly cool fingers continuing to trace your stomach in firm, rhythmic circles. The other reaching lower to cradle your thigh, keeping you grounded against him.

His breath is warm against your neck. His voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t need to talk. Just shake your head if you want me to stop.”

Your lips part with a sigh as you tilt your head to the side, allowing him more of your neck and shoulder. Letting him closer to you. With no shake of your head, he continues.

The massage shifted.

Lower.

Slower.

Still through the fabric, still respectful. Circling above where you want him most. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, begging for him to go lower. His fingers delicate as they follow your cravings, which is when you remember - suddenly stiffening within his embrace.

He notices immediately and stops. Resting his hand on your thigh, brushing his palm back and forth in reassurance.

“What’s wrong?”

“Zayne—” your voice cracks, shame flickering hot across your cheeks, “I’m—”

A hint of a chuckle halts in his throat.

“I know,” he says, calm and even. Like he was diagnosing a case, not seducing the soul out of your body.

“But, I’m bleeding.” Your cheeks somehow reddening more.

“Yes,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your temple. A gentle kiss to soothe your embarrassment. “You think I didn’t notice?”

“And you’re not… you know?!”

He gave a soft, exasperated breath. Something between a laugh and a sigh. Pressing another chaste kiss to your cheek.

Then his hand moved downward. Slower this time. Over the thick cotton of your underwear.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, hips rocking ever so slightly against his hand.

“Words, Darling”

“I don’t want you to stop. I… uh… I just don’t want you to be grossed out.”

He cups you fully. Firm and intentional. Trying to get your attention. Ensuring you hear him loud and clear.

“Sweetheart,” his voice low and brushing your ear, “I’ve held people’s organs in my hands. I’ve cleaned blood from surgical masks at 3 in the morning. You think this bothers me?”

His fingers curl slightly.

You gasp at the pressure. It was right where you need him.

“This isn’t messy. This isn’t gross. This is you.”

His nose trails along your jaw. His breath hot. Pressing kisses between his words like he’s etching them into your skin. “Alive. Powerful. Needing me.”

You tremble. “But it’s—”

His other hand reaches your jaw, angling you towards his lips. His eyes meet yours, gentle and kind, yet affirmative.

“It’s natural,” he interrupts. “It’s part of you. And I want every part.”

He presses his lips against yours. Soothing. Warm. Easing your thoughts with his tongue.

His fingers began to move again. Deliberate friction through the fabric. Just enough pressure to make your thighs twitch between his. He hums into your mouth as he feels your reactions to his touch.

“I know where your clit is, even through these,” he whispers.

You nod, half-sob, half-sigh. He kisses your cheek as you lean back into him.

“Good girl.”

You rock into his hand. The rhythm slow and indulgent.

His other hand slides under your shirt again, cradling your stomach. Pressing warmth into the cramps like he could pull the pain from you with touch alone.

Your thighs tense. Your hips buck.

Fuck, he was hard. You could feel him against your back. You wanted more. You needed more but your orgasm built faster than your reaction. Sharp and aching, like something you’d been holding in all day.

He coaxes it out of you, gently grinding against your back while you break within his embrace.

No rush. No pressure. Just calm, relentless care.

Zayne doesn’t move away. Doesn’t flinch. He just holds you tighter. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, your neck exposed as you let the pleasure wash over you.

“You don’t scare me,” he mutters against your pulse, “You never will.”

“…Zayne.”

He hums in response, right at the junction of your neck and shoulder, wanting to hear you more. His own need aching against you.

“I want…” You swallow, cheeks flushed, voice brittle. You press yourself harder against his cock. “I want you. I want more. But I don’t feel…”

He stops you. Fingers pulling away from your heat. Still above clothes. Ensuring he hears you right. Making sure you’re certain about this. His hands cup your knees, thumbs sweeping along them.

“You trust me to do this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

He nods once. “Then come with me.”

He helps you up slowly. His body shifting from behind you, scooping you up into his arms. Holding you against his body as he leads you into his bathroom.

He sets you down on the vanity surface while he adjusts the light and turns on the water. Steam rises in waves while the warm water hisses against the tiles.

You start to undress, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“No, Let me.”

Zayne’s fingers move with practiced ease, undoing buttons, lifting fabric, folding things with care. Nothing rushed. No hunger in his touch. Just intention.

When he reaches your underwear, he can sense your slight hesitation. Stopping for a moment, he steps back to remove his own clothes. Not in the same way as yours. Undoing his tie first with a flick and gentle tug of the wrist, before pulling off his shirt in haste. His belt clanking to the floor as his trousers and boxers drop to the floor. His cock springing against his stomach with a slap.

”Now we’re the same,” he says as he sets you on the floor, reaching for your underwear. He pauses, waiting for your consent.

“This part,” he said, looking up at you, “won’t ever make me flinch.”

You nod and he pulls them down gently. Tossing them aside like they weren’t even a factor, pad still attached.

The shower was hot, the water loud, drowning out everything else. He steps in behind you, his hands gentle on your waist as he turns you around.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “Come here.”

His arms wrap around you. Skin to skin. He lets you bury your face in his chest as the water soaks you both. It feels like minutes pass by with you rocking together like that, under the warm water.

Then his hands move, down your back, around your hips, to your stomach.

“Still hurting?”

You shake your head. He kisses the top of it.

His hand slides between your thighs. Not invasive. Not rough. Just gentle pressure, rubbing softly over your clit, slowly backing you against the tiled wall.

The water masking the sound of your gasp. Your hips rock into his hand. Tiny, involuntary motions, made all the more desperate by how safe you feel with him.

He adjusts his stance, bracing you with one arm and continues with the other. Firm strokes, wet friction, the heat of the shower blending with the heat blooming under your skin.

You reach for him, looking into his eyes as you take him in your hand. His mouth falls open in an instant, his ache finally being soothed. You start gently, stroking his cock until pre-cum leaks, and his lips find yours. Needy and wanting, as you cover your hand with his slick, making your motions all the more pleasurable.

Moaning into your mouth. Tongues dancing as you allow the need to take over. Moans and gasps, switch to groans, mixing with the steam in the shower. Both of you picking up speed.

His forehead meets yours, making sure he sees your consent. “Are you sure?”

Your blushed and needy face tells him everything he needs to know, but your little nod has him moving. Lifting your legs around his waist, pinning you against the wall as he lines himself up. You try to look down, but he catches you.

”Eyes on me, Sweetheart,” affirmative in his tone. Making sure there’s nothing that will make you feel embarrassed. His eyes fix on yours as he slowly sinks into you. Carefully, inch by inch. Stretching you deliciously around him. Your walls hot and squeezing him already. Your mouth falling open as your body accommodates him.

He stills when he bottoms out. Not to help him, but to give you a moment to adjust. Awaiting your signal to move. His lips on yours in reassurance.

“You can cry if you need to,” he says into your ear. “You can fall apart here. No one sees but me.”

You nod against him, and he sinks his head into your neck as he begins to move. Slowly at first. Tentative. Listening to your whimpers, making him crazy as he restrains himself. The angle exactly how you need him. His mound brushing against your clit with every thrust, while hitting that sweet spot within you.

As you start fluttering around him, your whimpers turning into moans, he picks up speed. The sound of wet skin meeting skin drowning into the water.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he says softly against your neck. His kiss pressing against your pulse. Your cunt pulsing around him as the pleasure builds tighter and tighter. He’s kissing your jaw as you claw at his back to hold on. “Because you’re real. Alive. And you let me have this piece of you.”

He kisses your lips. Desperate to feel closer to you.

“Let go!”

And it’s like he commanded it out of you. Your orgasm crests, slow and deep. The kind that rolls. You cling to him. Your legs tremble. And still, he keeps moving, guiding you through wave after wave as he chases his own. His hot cum coating your walls with a groan.

The aftershocks pass. The water still rains down. Neither of you wanting to move away from this bliss.

Removing himself and setting you down gently. Steadying you between his arm and chest while he reaches for the shower head. Washing anything that might cause you embarrassment away from both your bodies.

He kisses your temple. Your skin glowing and flushed. Your brows no longer furrowed.

“Let’s get you dry,” he soothes between kisses, “Clean pyjamas. Hot food. Then bed. You’ll stay with me, yeah?”

You nod into his chest. His lips press to your forehead and he smiles against your skin. Warm and affectionate.

”Thank you for trusting me,” he whispers, “You never have to suffer in silence.”

He pauses before angling your jaw, kissing you sweetly one more time before leaving the shower.

“Not with me.”

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Ordinary Chapter 1, Outside the lines

Masterlist Word count: 3k Zayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: After seeing his best friend getting married to the love of her life, Zayne can't help but be a little jealous. He never had this feeling before. It's almost like he's longing for someone to love. At the wedding, she introduces him to a colleague who instantly forces him out of his comfort zone. Could this be love?

"I can't, sorry. I've got work." 

Zayne had hoped you would've given up with that text. After he got home, the alien feeling he felt during the wedding disappeared only to be replaced by his usual loneliness. Only, it felt worse. So much worse. As if the warmth he had felt in your presence had become his new normal, only to feel cold when he got home. 

He doesn't like it. He doesn't want it. All he wants is to continue in life as he had before. No weird feelings, no strange moments, no chaos. Just normalcy and structure. That's all he needs. All he wants.  

But you didn't give up. 

"When are you available? Or maybe we could get some lunch during your break?" 

He wants to be optimistic, he really does, but this is how it always starts. At first, his partners take what they can get - coffee date, a late dinner together, a lazy morning before he gets called in again - but eventually they all tire of his hectic work schedule. 

However, he'll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t go out with you at least once. 

"We can do lunch on Wednesday. I usually have a break at 12:30 until 13:00 if nothing happens." 

"Would you prefer to stay in the hospital for your break or go out?" 

That throws him off a little bit. Usually, the women he dates assume he'll take them out even if he has little time and can't even be sure if he has a break. When he doesn't respond for a few minutes, another message comes in from you. 

"How about I make us something delicious and we can decide if we want to go out when you're ready?" 

"Agreed." 

"Akso hospital, right? Should I tell someone when I'm there, or just text you and sit in the waiting room?" 

"Text me." 

"Alrighty, any allergies I should know about?" 

Zayne suddenly notices his cheeks hurt a little. He's smiling. He's been smiling a while from the strain he feels in his cheeks. It almost makes him angry. How dare you make him smile like this after barely having one conversation? How dare you shake his normalcy up for the chaos you bring? How dare you make his heart stir? This isn't what he signed up for. 

"I am not the greatest fan of carrots. Everything else is fine." 

"I'll keep that in mind! See you Wednesday!" 

His words, all his texts, were quite cold and calculated. Only communicating what was needed and yet your words almost jumped out of his screen. He could see you say those things with that sunny smile of yours. This whole thing seems unfair somehow. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Wednesday. It must be around lunchtime as Zayne feels hunger building. His eyes flick to the clock on the operating room wall. 1:15. He's been in surgery for hours, and the procedure is taking longer than expected. The patient, a young man with a complex abdominal injury, is stable, but the delicate nature of the procedure has been a pain. Zayne wasn't even supposed to scrub in, but one of his colleagues got stuck in traffic and this couldn't wait. 

When the surgery finally concludes, Zayne steps back and takes a deep breath, his body heavy with exhaustion but his mind still laser-focused. It's as if there's a glass box around him and everything that's happening around him is slightly muted. He glances at the clock again. 1:30. His stomach drops. He was supposed to meet you at 12:30. 

He pulls out his phone, expecting a strong of annoyed texts or, worse, radio silence. Instead, there's just one message from you, sent at 12:19. 

"I'm here!" 

He stares at the message, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. It's just a few words but he can feel the excitement behind them and the fact that there are no other messages means you're still there. You're waiting for him. Right? 

After taking off his scrubs and putting his white coat on again, he takes a moment to collect himself on the bench of the staff dressing room. The intensity of the surgery is still on his mind and he's having a harder time than usual getting himself out of it. Deep breathing doesn't work, splashing water in his face didn't work, affirmations didn't work. Finally, when he feels a little more grounded, he decides that he's made you wait long enough. 

Besides, his stomach is rumbling like crazy. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

It's been a while since you sat down, more than an hour you figure, but you don't really mind. As you always do, you brought your sketchpad. When you started doodling, a little girl, no older than seven, sat down next to you asking how you were doing that. No more than five minutes later, the two of you were sharing the pad to draw flowers together. Her mother seemed thankful for the break, having a newborn on her arm. 

'Why are you here? You don't seem sick,' the little girl asks curiously as you hand her the pink pencil she asked for. Your tote is loaded with art supplies wherever you go. You never know when inspiration strikes.  

'I'm not sick,' you tell her, 'But I am going to have lunch with a friend. He's a doctor.' You raise your voice excitedly in the second part of your sentence. She giggles. 

'Why are you friends with a doctor? They're boring,' she states through her giggles. You see her mother roll her eyes behind her. She wants to say something, you can tell, but you nod to her to make sure she knows it's alright. 

'Are you good at keeping secrets?' The girl nods vigorously with a proud look on her face but her mother shakes her head behind her. A chuckle escapes you. 'Okay, listen up. The doctor I'm going to have lunch with, I like him a lot but he doesn't know yet. This is our first date.' 

The girl gasps, her mouth wide open, big eyes staring at you excitedly, 'oh you have to tell him!' You pretend to be thinking very deeply about it, putting your finger on your chin to act it out even more. 

'Hmmm, I'm not sure yet. I don't know if he likes me.' 

'I like you,' the girl squeals, 'so he must like you too!' 

'Maybe I tell him next time. This is the first time we're going on a date.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Zayne's breath catches when he spots you in the waiting room. There you are, sitting cross-legged on one of the uncomfortable chairs, a sketchpad balanced on your thigh, pencil in hand while you talk to the little girl sitting next to you. You're wearing simple linen pants and a black cropped t-shirt, your hair pulled up. You look like a ray of sunshine in the sterile, clinical environment. 

The way you're interreacting with the girl next to you is so patient, so gentle. You seem to have told her something outrageous with the way the girl is giggling. Your voice is warm and gentle as you encourage the girl to continue drawing. She copies with careful concentration. 

He can't help but watch for a moment as something tightens in his chest. He's not quite sure what it is – admiration perhaps, or something else he can't quite name yet. However, he can't stay stuck on it too long. He is already over an hour late and he's sure you've got other places to be as well. 

'Hey,' he says softly as he comes closer. You look up, your face lighting up with a smile as your eyes meet his. 

'Hey, you made it!' You turn to the girl sitting next to you. 'This is my friend, Zayne. What do you think? Should we show him our masterpiece?' Friend, ouch. But the little girl is giggling at your words, almost as if she knows more than he does. Did you tell her something? 

The girl holds up the sketchpad to show Zayne. It's a page with wobbly but enthusiastic flowers between carefully drawn masterpieces. Clear to see who drew what, but he can tell that you've been teaching her certain ways to make the flowers look better. 

'These are amazing,' Zayne says with the faintest smile, crouching down to her level. 'You're quite the artist.' 

The girl beams with pride. You tear off the page she worked on and give it to her. She scampers off to show her mother who gives you a thankful smile. You nod at her and stand up, brushing off your pants. Zayne grabs the woven basket from the floor while you quickly load your supplies back into your tote. 

'Sorry about that,' you grin, 'she looked bored.' 

'No need to apologize. I'm the one who's late,' Zayne says, his voice softer than intended. You shrug it off. 

'Doesn't matter. You're here now,' you say casually, 'so, did you want to stay in or go outside? Because I saw this pond in the garden...' 

Zayne hesitates. The garden is a beautiful peaceful spot, but with the rush of the day it might be better to stay inside. However, the thought of sitting there with you, surrounded by lush greenery and the gentle sound of the pond... it feels right. 

'Let's go to the garden,' he says, surprising himself. He quickly tries to rationalize it, 'I've been inside too long. It's good to go outside every once in a while' 

'Whatever you say doctor.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The hospital garden is a hidden gem, a small oasis of calm tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the building. The pond glistens in the sunlight and the grass is soft and lush. To Zayne's surprise, you prepared for this. You spread out the ugliest, yet charming, blanket he's ever seen and start unpacking the basket with the efficiency of someone who has done this many, many times before. 

'Okay, so I made a pasta salad because I figured you could use some carbs to keep you going,' you start explaining, 'It's got olives, anchovies, some olive oil as dressing. Then there's also some normal salad to get your greens in. And for dessert...' You hold up another container with a proud smile. 'Lemon cake.' 

Zayne's eyes almost seem heart shaped as he looks at the container. You notice right away and put the container down with a chuckle. 'Does the doctor have a sweet tooth,' you ask with a teasing tone. 

Zayne clears his throat, trying to collect his composure again. 'Maybe.' 

You grin, delighted at this new knowledge. 'Good. I'll keep that in mind for next time.' Zayne almost feels his cheeks flush at the thought that there could be a next time. He had his guard up so high and you've broken it down minutes into a first date. This is not good. He should calm down a little. You hand him a plate, pulling him out of his head. 'Dig in.' 

Zayne takes a cautious bite of the pasta salad, but is pleasantly surprised by how good it is. The flavors are bright and balanced, a welcome change from the tasteless hospital food he's used to. 'This is amazing,' he says, his voice sincere. 

'Glad you like it.' Zayne nods, taking another bite. He wants to talk to you, wants to ask about you, keep the conversation going, but his mind feels sluggish, still caught in the aftermath of the surgery. It seems the comforting bubble you created around the two of you made his exterior crack. Now he feels even more tired, because he doesn't feel like he has to hide it. He can just be tired. 

You watch him for a moment, seeming deep in thought. Something tells you he's tired, even though he hasn't said anything. His whole body seems to be slowing down. 'How has your day been so far,' you ask gently. 

Zayne hesitates, stuck between wanting to talk and not wanting to waste too much energy while still having half a shift left, then he shrugs. 'Busy. I had to scrub in for a surgery that ran longer than expected. It was a lot.' 

You nod, your expression softening as you watch him eat. 'I can imagine. You look like you've been through the wringer.' 

He glances up at you, surprised that you could tell. He thought he was hiding it pretty well. 'Is it that obvious?' 

You smile, but he sees no judgment in your face. Nothing that would tell him you despise him for not giving you his full attention. Instead, you look the tiniest bit worried. 'A little, but it's okay. We don't have to talk if you're not up for it. I'm happy to spend time with you either way.' 

Zayne feels a flicker of guilt. 'I'm sorry. I can imagine this isn't exactly... fun for you.' 

You shake your head, smile widening. 'Don't apologize. It's fine. I'm just glad I'm forcing you to have lunch, but I've got an even better idea if you're done.' 

Zayne studies you for a second, trying to figure out if you're just being polite, if you're never going to text him again, if you're going to leave and move to a different city. Instead, you seem completely at ease, chomping on your food happily. 'What's your idea?' 

'A nap.' You check your watch. 'If you have a half hour lunch break, we've only used a little over ten minutes. Could do you good to have a little sleep. Or just rest your eyes.' It sounds very appealing. Zayne's mind still feels slightly scattered from being in that sterile room for so long. Normally, he's fine after that but it seems the thought of meeting you cost him more energy than he bargained for. Resting his eyes sounds nice. 

'And how would we go about that?' His tone is a bit timid, scared to be so vulnerable so early on. But is it truly vulnerability? You're offering a nap to him. It's just a yes or no question. 

'You lay your head on my lap and I make sure you wake up on time.' Zayne feels his cheeks flush at your casual answer, but his body moves without his mind. You guide his head into your lap as he lays down on his back. 'I brought a book, would you like me to read to you?' 

'That'd be nice.' 

'Alright,' you smile and rummage through your tote bag, pulling out a little book, 'it's The Owl Service by Alan Garner.' 

Zayne listens with his eyes closed. One of your hands is in his hair, leaving every once in a while to turn a page. Your voice is melodic and expressive as you tell a story you seem to know very well. The bubble of comfort that was created when you sat down is suddenly very small. Seems the whole world is gone. The birds in the garden are but a background score for your story. Zayne's mind flickers in and out of consciousness, his mind wandering with the story. The story seems to be a children's story, but there's much more behind it. Either way, he doesn't have to stay fully awake to follow. 

A gentle tap to his forehead pulls him out of his dream world. His eyes flutter open and meets your eyes, shining like melting snow in the sun. You smile. 'Your break is almost over.' He nods and starts to stretch a little. Suddenly, he realizes he is holding something to his chest. Looking down, he sees a familiar hand with paint stains. He is holding your hand. 

'I'm sorry,' he stammers as he lets go and quickly gets up, regretting it right away. It's not good to sit up so fast after laying down for a while. If only he would follow his own advice. 

'It's fine. You were sleeping,' you smile kindly, 'however, if you do want to make it up to me, you can come over to my studio?' 

Zayne blinks, caught off guard. 'Your studio?' 

'Yeah,' you respond with sparkling eyes. 'I've seen your place of work, I'd love to show you around my place of work.' 

Zayne hesitates, a whirlwind of unfamiliar feelings rushing through his chest, but then nods. 'I'd like that.' 

Your smile lights up your whole face. 'Great! Text me when you're available.' 

As you start packing up, you expected him to go back inside, back to his job, but he helps you. He gathers the empty containers and closes them neatly so nothing left in them will spill in your basket, he takes the paper cups you brought and walks over to the trashcan near the footpath returning right after. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. He even helps you fold the blanket. It all goes so naturally, it makes your heart swell. 

As he leans down to grab the basket, an idea blooms in your head. 'Thank you,' you smile and press a kiss to his cheek. His face goes bright red as he stands up. Rushed, he hands you the basket. 

'No problem.' Then he disappears back into the building. The idea that bloomed in your head, the warmth that spread from your lips, the tingling feeling in your stomach. It's a wonderful experience. Nothing quite compares to falling in love. A giggle escapes you as you leisurely stroll through the garden, heading back home to put this feeling on canvas. 

Zayne, on his end, closes the door of his office behind him and tries to catch his breath. His mind feels fragmented, lost in wanting to fall in love again and not wanting his trust broken again. One thing is for sure, he doesn't want this to end. Terrifying as it may be, for the first time in a long time, he's willing to allow himself to feel. 

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[aleksatia]

You went for a drive out of the city, and during a coffee stop, you decided to break the news in a creative way. You had "Best Dad Ever" written on his cup.

🧜‍♂️ Rafayel

The drive is calm. For once, Rafayel isn’t dramatically complaining about how boring the scenery is, nor is he blasting music at full volume just to mess with you. Instead, he’s relaxed, one hand draped over the wheel, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, humming lazily to himself.

You hand him his coffee.

“Mm, thanks, cutie,” he purrs, taking it without looking, already lifting it to his lips—

Sip.

Pause.

His fingers tighten slightly.

Then—

The car swerves.

"RAFAYEL!"

With zero hesitation, he veers off the road and slams the brakes, the car jerking to a sudden, dramatic stop.

"WHAT THE HELL—" you start, gripping the dashboard.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

Rafayel is staring at the cup like it just personally betrayed him. His eyes are huge, his fingers clamped so tightly around the cup that you’re genuinely worried it might crack.

He snatches off his sunglasses, turns to you, and—says nothing.

Just breathes heavily.

Like he’s witnessed something cosmic.

You raise an eyebrow. "Something wrong, babe?"

He flips the cup toward you, jabbing at the words printed on the side.

Best Dad Ever.

"Is this a joke?" His voice cracks. “IS THIS A JOKE?!”

You bite back a laugh. "Nope."

His entire body freezes. His brain disconnects from reality.

Then—

He LAUNCHES himself out of the car.

“RAFAYEL, OH MY GOD—”

He starts pacing.

Wildly.

Hand in his hair, fully spiraling.

"I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" He throws his arms in the air. "MY GENES ARE TOO POWERFUL—THIS WAS INEVITABLE—"

You lean out the window, exasperated. "Can you—"

"I CAN’T BREATHE—"

"Then inhale through your nose, genius."

"I AM. IT'S NOT ENOUGH."

He stops abruptly. Whips back toward you. Marches over to the car like a man with a mission, plants his hands on the doorframe, and leans in—

"You’re serious?" His voice is deadly quiet now.

You hold his gaze. “I’m serious.”

For a second, he just stares at you.

Then, suddenly—

He laughs.

At first, just a short breath. Then—full giddy, unfiltered joy. He grabs your face, kisses you sloppy and hard, and laughs against your lips like he can’t believe it.

"I KNEW IT!" He pulls back just to yell into the sky. "I AM ABOUT TO CREATE THE MOST GORGEOUS CREATURE IN EXISTENCE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? THIS IS HISTORIC. THIS CHILD WILL BE A CULTURAL ICON—"

You groan. "Rafayel—"

“I HAVE TO DOCUMENT THIS MOMENT.”

"—No."

He’s already reaching for his phone.

"—RAFAYEL, NO—"

"WE NEED A PORTRAIT. A MONUMENT. A SERIES OF LIMITED-EDITION ART PRINTS."

You physically reach over and grab his wrist. "GET BACK IN THE DAMN CAR."

He gasps.

Dramatically.

Hand-on-heart levels of betrayal.

"You wouldn’t deprive me of this joy?"

"I will deprive you of seeing your child if you don’t start driving."

Instantly—he’s back in the car.

Straightens his jacket. Adjusts his hair. Puts on his sunglasses.

"Holy sharks," he breathes, gripping the wheel. "I'm gonna be a dad."

You sigh, finally relaxing. "Yeah, babe. You are."

He exhales slowly.

Then, softer this time, he reaches out, brushing his fingers over your stomach—reverent now.

"You just made me the happiest being alive," he murmurs. His smirk is still there, but his voice is completely serious.

You smile, resting your hand over his. “I know.”

The moment lingers—soft, intimate, perfect.

And then—

A wicked glint flashes in his eyes.

“Ohhh,” he grins, leaning back lazily. “This kid is gonna be a menace.”

You groan. "Rafayel—"

"THEY WILL BE CHAOS INCARNATE."

"Stop—"

"WE HAVE A DYNASTY TO BUILD."

And just like that—your entire future flashes before your eyes.

🖤🐦Sylus

It’s been a quiet drive, Sylus tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, humming along to the music. He’s in a good mood. Relaxed. Smug, as usual, but easygoing.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it, sips, lets out a pleased little hum—

And then—

The car jerks.

You barely have time to register what happened before he slams on the brakes, throwing an arm across your waist to stop you from lurching forward.

“SYLUS—”

"EXCUSE ME?!"

The wheels screech to a stop on the side of the road. A cloud of dust kicks up behind the car, but Sylus doesn’t even look at it. No—his full, undivided attention is now locked onto the cup in his hand.

He turns it slowly, his crimson eyes glowing as he reads the words again. And again.

Best. Dad. Ever.

He blinks.

Then he grins.

Not just a smirk—a full, wicked, teeth-flashing, Sylus-style grin that immediately puts you on high alert.

“Kitten,” he purrs, tilting his head, voice dangerously low. “Is this what I think it is?”

You cross your arms. “If you think it means I’m pregnant, then yes.”

He lets out a low whistle, tapping the cup against the steering wheel like he cannot believe his luck.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he laughs, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh, kitten.”

“…Why do you sound like you won something?” you ask, already regretting everything.

He takes another slow sip of coffee, relishing it, before placing the cup deliberately in the holder. Then he turns to you.

And just—stares.

His eyes gleam. His smirk deepens. And then—

“You belong to me now,” he murmurs, voice soaked in satisfaction.

Oh. Oh no.

“Don’t—”

“You were already mine,” he continues, ignoring your protest, fingers tracing slow circles on your knee. “But this? This makes it official.”

You squint. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, leaning in until his nose barely brushes yours. “You are so trapped.”

Your breath catches.

His lips brush your jaw. Soft. Slow. Dangerous.

“Our baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “My legacy.”

Okay, that makes you snort. “Legacy? Are you serious—”

His fingers tighten on your thigh.

“I never joke about ownership, kitten.”

Your stomach flips. “Sylus, I swear—”

“I am,” he continues, voice so dangerously pleased, “about to be the most unbearable man alive.”

“You already are.”

He chuckles, dark and smooth.

Then, with zero warning, he pulls your seat lever—fully reclines it—and cages you in with both arms.

“SYLUS—”

“You think I’m letting you out of this car without celebrating properly?” His knee presses between yours. His lips hover just over yours. “Oh, kitten.”

A smug, deadly whisper—

“You’re not going anywhere.”

And just like that—you are so. Completely. Screwed.

☃️ Zayne

The drive is quiet, smooth, the hum of the engine steady. Zayne is driving like he does everything else—efficiently, precisely, with absolute control. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, his posture effortlessly composed.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it automatically, barely looking away from the road as he lifts it to his lips.

Then—

The cup stops midair.

His fingers tighten.

His eyes flick down.

The muscles in his jaw shift.

You can see the exact second his mind starts processing.

His lips part slightly. His brows furrow just a fraction.

His eyes scan the words again, like data he needs to verify.

Best Dad Ever.

And just like that—Zayne enters full diagnostic mode.

His pupils dilate. His breathing adjusts. His shoulders tense in micro-movements.

Then, before you can speak, he mutters—

“Seven weeks.”

You blink. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s already calculating. His eyes flick to the dashboard clock—counting back the exact number of days since your last cycle.

“No, wait,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, “six weeks, five days. That lines up better with—”

He cuts himself off, his grip on the wheel adjusting, his mind racing a mile a second.

Then he grabs his phone with one hand and immediately dials a number.

You stare at him. “Zayne, what are you—”

“It’s Doctor Zayne, I need a full prenatal assessment scheduled immediately.”

“What?!”

He ignores you, listening intently. His tone is calm, clipped, entirely professional, as if he’s in the middle of a patient consultation.

“Yes, priority level one.” His fingers tap against the wheel. “Standard screenings plus full genetic panel. I also want a full cardiovascular assessment given her recent—”

“ZAYNE.”

His jaw tightens. He barely spares you a glance, still listening to whoever’s on the other end.

“No, reschedule that for tomorrow, I’ll be overseeing this personally—”

You reach over and end the call.

Silence.

Zayne blinks once, slowly, as if rebooting.

Then he turns his head very carefully toward you.

“…Did you just—”

“Yes.”

His eyelid twitches.

“You,” he says, deadpan, “just ended an emergency medical consultation with one of the most sought-after specialists in the Linkon-city.”

“Yes.”

His lips press together tightly. His nostrils flare just a fraction.

Then—the cracks start showing.

His throat bobs. His fingers flex around the wheel. His chest rises with a sharp inhale—

And then, finally, he breaks.

His entire body sags forward as he presses his forehead to the steering wheel, exhaling shakily.

“…Oh, fuck,” he mutters, voice completely wrecked.

You blink.

He takes another sharp breath, his hands gripping the wheel like he’s stabilizing himself.

“…I was fine,” he says, more to himself than to you.

You stare at him. “No, you weren’t.”

“I was,” he insists, head still against the wheel. “I had a plan. I was handling it.”

You tilt your head. “Handling it like a patient case?”

His fingers flex again. “It’s not the same.”

“Zayne.”

He doesn’t move.

“Zay.”

Nothing.

So you reach out, fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp—

He lets out a breath that absolutely shatters you.

Like something inside him has finally collapsed.

Then—without warning—he turns and kisses you.

It’s not like before. Not calculated, not measured, not careful.

It’s desperate.

Like he needs to feel you, needs to know you’re here, with him, real.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

“I can’t…” He exhales slowly. “I can’t lose control of this.”

Your chest tightens. “You don’t have to control everything, Zayne.”

His hand slips down, pressing gently against your stomach. His fingers splay, warm and reverent.

“…You’re right.” His voice is quieter now.

Another pause.

Then—

A tiny, breathless laugh escapes him.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

His eyes flick to yours, golden-green and impossibly soft.

“…I’m going to be a dad.”

You smile. “Yeah, you are.”

Another shaky exhale. Then, a full-blown smile—rare, genuine, warm.

“…Shit.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

You grin. “Should I be concerned that you can predict organ failure before it happens, but not this?”

His hand tightens just slightly over your stomach. His smirk is smaller now, more sincere.

“No,” he murmurs. “Because this—”

He leans in, lips brushing just over your temple.

“This is the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

🍎 Caleb

It’s a perfect drive—at least, for now. The sun is low, stretching golden light across the road, and Caleb is relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily resting on the armrest. He’s humming to himself, terribly off-key, completely endearing, and utterly oblivious to the bomb you’re about to drop on him.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thanks, pip-squeak,” he murmurs, taking it automatically, his eyes still on the road.

He takes a sip.

Then—

He stops.

His hand tightens around the cup.

His posture locks up.

And just like that, you realize you’ve made a terrible mistake.

The car swerves.

“CALEB!”

With military precision, he pulls over so hard the tires skid, shifts into park, and slams the brakes.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t breathe.

You barely have time to process before he whirls toward you, holding up the cup like it’s an explosive device.

“WHAT. IS. THIS?!”

You blink. “Uh. Coffee?”

His eye twitches. His chest rises in one sharp inhale.

Then—his voice drops to a whisper.

“…Are you messing with me right now?”

Your lips twitch. “Nope.”

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Then—

His entire soul leaves his body.

He throws the door open, jumps out of the car, and immediately crouches down with his hands on his knees.

You watch in real time as a fully grown man has a complete emotional crisis on the side of the road.

"OH FUCK. OH FUCK. OH FUCK."

“CALEB, GET BACK IN THE CAR.”

"I NEED A SECOND."

“You’re going to get hit by—”

"I NEED A FUCKING SECOND."

You drop your head into your hands as he rakes his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself like he’s trying to process the meaning of life.

Then—abruptly—he stops.

Stands up straight. Spins to face you.

“…How long?”

You hesitate. “Caleb—”

“HOW LONG?!”

You sigh. “A few weeks.”

His jaw clenches. His eyes dart down, scanning you, like he’s only just now realizing that oh shit, you’re actually pregnant.

Then—he yanks open the car door, sits back down, and buckles his seatbelt like it personally wronged him.

You blink. “…Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits immediately.

He exhales sharply, presses his hands to his face, and just—

Whimpers.

Not dramatically. Not in distress. Just the most overwhelmed, overjoyed, short-circuited noise you’ve ever heard come out of him.

Then, suddenly—he laughs.

Not just any laugh—a helpless, breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, fuck.” He drags a hand down his face, his grin growing. “Oh, fuck. We’re having a baby.”

You grin back. “Yeah, we are.”

He turns to you, and something changes.

The panic is still there—but beneath it? Something warm. Something so impossibly, devastatingly soft.

Then—he moves.

His hand presses to your stomach.

Just rests there.

Like he’s afraid to push too hard, afraid to shatter this moment.

His throat bobs. His fingers spread slightly.

And then, his voice—softer than you’ve ever heard it—

“…That’s our baby.”

You nod.

His eyes flicker. His entire body tenses.

Then, without warning—

You are no longer sitting.

You yelp as he hauls you into his lap, wrapping both arms around you and crushing you against his chest.

“CALEB—”

“NOPE.” His voice is muffled into your shoulder. “I NEED THIS. GIVE ME THIS. RIGHT NOW.”

You laugh. “You’re squishing me—”

"YOU’RE PREGNANT WITH MY BABY AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS EMOTIONALLY, THANK YOU."

You let him have it.

For a long moment, he just holds you. His breath is shaky, his grip tight, like he’s trying to memorize every second of this before it slips away.

Then—he shifts slightly.

A deep breath. A pause.

Then, suddenly—

His grip tightens, and he leans back just enough to look at you dead in the eyes.

“…Okay but—what about me?”

You blink. “What?”

His ears start going red.

“I mean,” he clears his throat, gaze darting anywhere but your face now, “what about… you know.”

You smirk. “I don’t know. Clarify.”

He groans, tilting his head back against the seat. “Pip-squeak, come on.”

You hum, trailing your fingers over his shoulders, down his chest. “Ohh. You mean—”

"YES." His grip tightens on your hips. "What happens now? Do I just—" He gestures vaguely between you. "Forget about it? Nine months of nothing?"

You shrug innocently. “Well. There are other ways…”

He freezes.

His eyes darken. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

“…Other ways.”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He stares. Processing.

Then, suddenly—

He grabs the steering wheel with both hands, stares straight ahead, and shifts into drive.

“Okay.”

You snort. “That’s it?”

“I have to drive us home. Immediately.” His voice is far too serious. “This is now a time-sensitive situation.”

You laugh. “Caleb, you are so—”

He shoots you a warning look, eyes still burning. “Do not finish that sentence unless you want me to pull over again.”

You grin wickedly. “And then what?”

His grip tightens on the wheel.

Then, low and dark—

“…Don’t test me, pip-squeak.”

And just like that—

You have created a monster.

☀️ Xavier

The drive is smooth, effortless. Xavier handles the car the way he handles everything else—calmly, efficiently, like he’s already three steps ahead of reality. The road stretches endlessly ahead, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between you.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thank you, love,” he murmurs, taking it without looking, perfectly composed, as always.

He lifts it to his lips, takes a sip—

Then stops.

His fingers tighten slightly around the cup.

You watch as his eyes flick down to the message.

Best Dad Ever.

For a moment, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t tense, doesn’t flinch. Just…observes.

Then, with deliberate ease, he tilts his head slightly in your direction.

“…Very funny.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He gestures toward the cup, lips twitching in amusement. “You can’t fool me, princess. I know you too well.”

He takes another slow sip, entirely unbothered.

“This is a joke,” he continues, matter-of-factly. “You wanted to see if I’d panic. Clever, but predictable.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

His smirk grows. “Because if it were real, you’d be significantly worse at hiding your anticipation.”

You tilt your head. “Mm. Maybe.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he shifts his focus back to the road. “You’ll have to do better than this next time.”

You shrug, lifting your own coffee to your lips.

He barely glances at it.

Then—he does a double take.

His brows furrow. His body stiffens slightly.

You see it—the moment the wheels in his head start turning. The moment his brain connects the dots.

Best Mom Ever.

Of twins.

There is a pause. A deep, soul-crushing pause.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he takes one more sip of coffee.

And immediately chokes on it.

He coughs once, hard, sharp. His grip on the wheel tightens so fast his knuckles go white.

And then—he does the single most terrifying thing he has ever done in his entire existence.

He slowly eases his foot off the gas pedal.

Not jerking the car. Not slamming the brakes. Just gradually reducing speed with surgical precision.

His eyes are locked straight ahead, unblinking.

The car glides toward the shoulder of the road in complete, deafening silence.

Then, in eerie, methodical movements,

He puts the car in park.

Takes off his seatbelt.

Reaches over.

And plucks your coffee out of your hands.

You blink. “Xavier?”

He says nothing.

Instead, he places both cups onto the dashboard.

Adjusts them. Lines them up perfectly so that the words are directly facing him.

Then—

He stares.

At the cups.

At the words.

At his entire future.

Silence.

Then, very quietly—

“…Twins.”

His throat bobs.

His hand comes up and presses against his temple.

Another beat of pure silence.

Then—

He laughs.

A single breathless, helpless laugh.

Then another.

And another.

Until suddenly—

He dissolves into a full-blown existential breakdown.

His entire body tips forward, forehead pressing against the steering wheel.

“Twins.” His voice is muffled, bordering on delirious. “I—twins. Two. There are two.”

You bite your lip. “There will be, yeah.”

He lets out a sound that is neither human nor machine.

Then, slowly—he lifts his head again.

His eyes are unfocused, like he’s calculating probabilities of survival in real-time.

Then—

His head turns toward you.

And you swear you see actual panic.

“How,” he exhales, voice quiet, shaky, “do we own two of something when we never needed to own one?”

You blink. “Xav, what—?”

He gestures vaguely at the cups.

“How do we prepare for twins if we were never prepared for a singular baby?”

You open your mouth—

"WE DON'T EVEN HAVE TWO OF THE SAME PILLOW."

You freeze. “What.”

He gestures more aggressively now, looking absolutely unhinged.

“OUR BED.” He waves toward the back seat. “THE PILLOWS. THEY’RE DIFFERENT. HOW DID WE GET TWO DIFFERENT PILLOWS? HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN?”

You stare at him.

“You’re spiraling.”

“I AM LOGICALLY PROCESSING THE GRAVITY OF OUR SITUATION.”

“Xavier.”

He inhales. Exhales.

Then, softer now, more real, more raw—

“…We’re going to have twins.”

You nod.

His shoulders drop. His eyes soften.

Then—before you can react, he reaches out, pulls you into his lap, and buries his face into your neck.

For a long moment, he just holds you.

No overthinking. No calculations.

Just you.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, warm, unshaken.

“…I am never going to recover from this information.”

You laugh softly. “You will.”

He leans back just enough to meet your eyes. And finally—finally—his lips curve into a small, exhausted smile.

“…They’re going to be terrifyingly intelligent.”

You snicker. “Oh, for sure.”

“And devastatingly attractive.”

“Obviously.”

He hums. “I will be insufferable.”

“You already are.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing your forehead.

“…I’m going to be a father of twins.”

“You are.”

“…That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin. “You’ll be fine.”

Another pause.

Then—

A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes.

“…Twins, you said?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes?”

His smirk returns, sharper this time.

“So.” He tilts his head. “Shall we test for a third?”

You shove him so hard the car rocks slightly. ****** More stories here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleksa_Tia

[dirtylilspawn]

hi, i recently discovered your account, and now i'm just in love with your fics, i really liked the headcanons about reader manhandling lads boys. Can you do a reverse version? like, if they wanted to take revenge.

ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴘᴛ. 2

Summary: The lads boys manhandle you right back.

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Parings: [Rafayel x Fem!Reader, Sylus x Fem!Reader, Caleb x Fem!Reader, Xavier x Fem!Reader, Zayne x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hi!!! I'm so happy you like my fics especially the manhandling one, I had fun writing it. And it seems like a lot of people love it haha! Pls don't be afraid to ask anything else you want me to write next. Give me some more good inspiration yall, for me to work on lol. Manhandled pt. 1

Warnings: Fluff & humor, some suggestive stuff, cursing, jealousy, drunk reader

════════════════════════════

RAFAYEL

You and Rafayel frequently visit the beach whenever you can.

A was special place for the both of you.

It was summer break, a good excuse to once again visit the ocean together. Staying away from the heat, enjoying each other's company, eating great food, and walking along the sandy beach. That was your typical outing with Rafayel. And if you were feeling more adventurous, Rafayel would take you deep diving along the ocean floors. The two of you swimming along the currents, seeing the beauty of every coral reef or fish, and many other sea life.

Right now, your whole body was floating along the calm waters.

Your back and legs carried by the cool ocean, cradling you with ease. Your eyes were connected with the bright blue sky above you; a few small clouds pass by but otherwise it was a clear sky today. You smiled while letting out a chilled sigh.

You came over to Rafayel's place, wanting to use his private beach to relax and have fun. It has been a suffering hot for the last two weeks, and you needed a break. You didn't even ask him, the moment you showed up to his home, you were already in your two-piece swimsuit. A pretty white bikini with pink shell tracings along the edges, strings wrapping around your neck and upper torso, while the bottoms had string bows on the side of your waist. You also wore a pink see-through coverup with sandals. And to top it off, you held a basket filled with sandwiches, drinks, snack, desserts, that the two of you enjoyed.

This was a surprise of course, but a very openly welcomed surprise to Rafayel none-the-less. Seeing you in such a visually pleasing bikini was nothing but perfection in Rafayel's world, plus there was food, so really, he couldn't deny you. If he could, he'd tell you to dress like that all the time, 24/7. The only problem would be the onlookers gawking over your beauty, plus he knew you'd be against it anyways. A man can only dream.

Anyway, your thoughts soon came to a halt as you suddenly wondered to yourself, where the heck was your boyfriend? He was here with you during the early day, bathing in the sun, playing few games, swimming together. But as you look to both your sides seeing empty water, and Rafayel's beach cabana empty. You can't even hear him, and you were starting to get a bit anxious.

The last time you heard his voice before relaxing on top of the ocean, was that he'll be right back. That he was going to get something before returning to you. That was seven minutes ago

You didn't know what he was trying to do or get at, but it shouldn't take that long...right?

"Rafayel!?"

You called out as your body was still floating above the water. You hear nothing, no reply back. The only sounds were the wind blowing through some trees, and the swishing of the ocean underneath you.

"Where is he? He didn't ditch me...did he?"

You bite your lip, eyes staring up at the sky with a narrowed glare. Your throat emitting an annoyed groan as another minute passes on.

"He wouldn't...I bet he's scheming something...I can feel it..."

You quiet yourself to hear anything, anything at all. You didn't know why but you had a gut feeling that something was not up. You heart starts to pick up, making you feel on edge. Another minute of calm silence stresses you out as you shake your head.

"Okay that's it! I'm done waiting around, where the hell-AAH!!"

Before you could even get up and search for Rafayel, a strong hand starts to wrap around your legs, while the other hand made its way to your back. The mysterious person picked up from the water, holding you close. You're still screaming in horror at the sudden action, squirming in this person's arms, wondering how a stranger wandered into Rafayel's beach. But all those screams die down as you see your mischievous boyfriend with that annoying grin of his as he stared down at you. His whole-body drench with water, droplets from his hair landing onto your chest.

Rafayel then leans into your neck with rampant amounts of kisses. You sputter out nonsense as he continues to do this before leaning away to give you a sly wink.

"Hey princess, didn't miss me too much did ya~?"

"R-Rafayel! What! Why! You...jerk!"

Your terror went to confusion, which went to anger as you grabbed at his cheeks. Shaking his head with so much frustration causing the man to yelp himself getting away from your attack.

"Okay okay! I'm sorry, stop shaking me! You don't want me to drop you, do ya?"

You stop shaking him, but your pout still remains of your face as your arms were crossed against your chest.

"Where were you?"

"I wasn't that far away, just down below the reefs to find this."

Rafayel hand that was on your back reveals on your side a beautiful conch seashell. The outside a shiny iridescent silver refection, with the sun's rays, you could see the tiny rainbows reflected around the surface. On the inside material was a light violet color, its smooth base glittering, drops of water tracing the shell as if they were pearls. This was indeed beautiful shell, one that Rafayel motioned for you to take into your hands which you did. Your fingertips trace the patterns of the conch shell; it was the size of your palm.

"Isn't it beautiful, thought I find the most extravagant shell I can find, for the most extravagant woman here.

You didn't say anything, as you could feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a bit silly for worrying so much. Feeling embarrassed how the thought of him being underwater was a possibility. You look away from him, clutching the shell close to your chest.

"...it's pretty..."

Rafayel chuckles leaning in to give you a sweet kiss to your cheek. He starts to walk his way back to the shore.

"I'm sorry for scaring you princess, are you mad at me?"

You sigh, eyes returning to his as you smiled back at him.

"No, just next time bring me with you, I like it when we do things together."

Rafayel kisses your cheeks again, his nose brushing with yours.

"Fully noted. Though, I have to admit, hearing your screams was a lot funnier than I expected, cute even. I might want to hear it again~"

Rafayel stops, the ocean water only encompassing his whole waist. His arms start to get lose around your legs and back. He then teases by swaying you around in his arms, as if he has the nerve to throw you out of his embrace, and into the water harshly. You give him a glare, as you wrapped one arm around his neck securely.

"Don't even try fish boy."

Rafayel could only shiver at your threat, a playful yet nervous grin, as he continues to walk out of the ocean and onto the sandy shore.

════════════════════════════

SYLUS

You got into a fight.

No, not a serious fight where tensions rise in one's relationship that causes problems, no. I mean a petty silly fight that started out as a small disagreement, only to result in the both of you - mostly you - giving each other the silent treatment. Honestly you forgotten what the argument as about. Maybe it was about work life, or maybe it was that you had a bad day, whatever it was it made you pretty stubborn to talk to him. Always avoiding him, giving him sarcastic huffs, turning your head upward like some snotty rich girl. Refusing to acknowledge his presence in a very playful yet still mad stubborn kind of way.

He knows this, and he finds it adorable.

How his kitten is refusing any sort of affection due to one silly argument. Playing hard to get as he tries lure you in with apologies and love, while all you do is turn your head the other way. Like a stranger pushing a bowl of milk to a stray cat as it hisses in retaliation. He found it absolutely cute, but the cuteness soon died down into a slight irritation.

"My you sure are a sight for the eyes girly~"

"Aw thank you."

Sylus scoffed watching the sleezy older man compliment you like some common whore for him to take. He could overhear the whole conversation between you and him through an earpiece the two of you shared. And the more that bastard talk to you, the more upset Sylus got.

You were undercover obviously, gathering personal intel from a powerful criminal the frequented this nightclub in the N109 zone. You told Sylus about it in a very brief manner, expecting to go alone on this but the Onychinus leader came along with you. Because he'll be damned if he didn't, and he was right. He knows that this little argument between you and him was just no more than playful banter between you both, there was no actual problem. He knows inside you had already forgiven him, even though you won't admit it. He liked that aspect of your stubbornness, but now he didn't, because now he has to watch another man talk to you while you laugh and smile at his words - not actually - and he can't even get two words in before you turn away.

It bothered him.

And it bothered him even more when he sees this old man start to get fresh. His dirty hands making their way to your exposed thigh. Making his way up your thigh, a goal to get underneath your short red dress. A dress he had bought for you one time, a dress that he can only undress and feel up underneath.

Yeah, he's had enough of this.

Time to put an end to your game.

You on the other hand were trying so hard not to punch the man in the face. Your face twitching in anger but still acting coy and sweet, swatting the old man 's hand playfully off, giggling, but deep down you were seething. You just wanted to go home with Sylus and end this night quickly. Just a little more info, then you can finally go.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when you can see your intimidating boyfriend waltz right up to the private corner where you and your suspect were sitting. He parted the crowd of dancers with ease, his face stone cold and serious, as his red eyes glowered at the scene in front of him. You cursed inside, as Sylus is now right in front of you. His big body looming over yours as you sat nervously.

"Time to go dove."

It was all he said, you were happy he's here. Happy that he came to get you. But at the same time the stubbornness from before rises, now upset at him for blowing your mission. You sat up hands pushing at his chest gently to make him go back, but the man does not bulge an inch.

"What are yo-"

"Hey, were busy here pal."

The elder man then suddenly gets up; he glares at Sylus while bringing you back close to him. His arm and hand wrapped around your waist, making you cringe not liking being this close to the guy. Before you could even say anything, or push this man away, you saw the familiar dark red and black mist of Sylus evol activating around the old man. He grunts in pain, his whole body capsulated by the powerful evol making his hand come off your waist. It crushed him a bit all before he was suddenly thrown back against the leather couch. He let's out a painful groan, as his body sags pathetically.

You watch this, only to gasp loudly yourself as you had found yourself being picked up by Sylus. Your whole body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ass sticking out and your dress ridding up your thighs making you blush heavily.

"Sylus!"

"We're going now."

He simply says before making his way out of the club, parting the shocked crowded of people that witness the embarrassing scene. As if that wasn't enough, Sylus gave your ass a sharp spank to your cheek making you cry out with shock. Your butt wiggling at the stinging - but very pleasurable - slap to your ass. You whine as you cover your face from the lingering eyes, you did this until Sylus makes his way outside the club. His feet stop as he made it to his motorcycle where he had parked it.

"Sylus put me down!"

"I don't think so kitten you're in time out."

"Time out!?"

"Well, until you apologize and say that you won't ignore me. Otherwise, you'll be staying up here for a while~"

Is your boyfriend seriously putting you in air jail until you apologize for ignoring him. You sigh, rubbing your hand on your forehead, cheeks puff out as you try to wiggle out of this. But it was no use, as he held a firm grip on you. His hand running up and down your smooth back thigh, teasing yet comforting. Honestly it felt so much better having his hand on your thigh than that old man's hand. So much better.

"Mmm...sorry..."

"What was that kitten I couldn't hear you."

You can just hear the smirk on his face stretching. It made grumble more, arms crossed as you looked at the ground in defeat.

"I sorry, I won't ignore you anymore...now can you put me down! I'm starting to get dizzy here."

"Seems you have forgotten the magic words that go to that sentence."

You let out a long groan, your body slumping his his hold. You can hear his signature laugh which made you want to just hide away and curl up into a little ball. With man was going to be the death of you with his endless teasing.

"Please put me down."

Sylus lets out a hum of approval before setting you back down on the cement ground. You stumble a bit on your heels before looking up at him flustered. He grins down at you, eyes racking every part of your body making you feel so small. He raises a hand to caress your cheek affectionately. Sylus then leans down to give your lips a brief but passionate kiss on your glossed lips. You close your eyes leaning in gor more. All those times ignoring his advances made you realize just how touched starved you are with this man.

He pulls away, which made you whine - he definitely heard - moving to near towards your ear. Making you shiver feeling his breath against your skin lightly.

"Good girl, now let's get back home so we can make up properly. You kept avoiding me for so long, it's about time I take my well-deserved fill~"

════════════════════════════

CALEB

"Hmm...where are you pipsqueak?!"

A goofy smile made it to your face as you hide behind a tree from Caleb. Your back against the wide tree, looking over to see Caleb walking along the glassy fields slowly with a grin stretching his lips. Heart pounding in your chest at the prospect of getting caught by him. You try as much to stifle your own laugher or breaths as he inches closer to where you were.

It was a very bright warm day today, Caleb suggested going out and taking a nice walk around the park meadows nearby. You agreed to this and spent your whole day with Caleb as you walked around the park. Passing by kids who run along the sidewalk or hanged around the jungle gym. Food venders who you defiantly stop by, grabbing something to eat with their delicious food. And couples ranging from your age to elderly ones that sat on benches complimenting you and Caleb and your youth.

It was a very peaceful day.

Once you guys made it to the widespread meadow, you couldn't help but feel a bit playful with him. Before he could even say anything, you start to run away from him, taunting about how he couldn't catch you. Making Caleb grin with amusement and run right after you. The both of you laughing and giggling like little kids. It felt so cliche yet wholesome at the same time running after each other in a field of flowers. It was moments like these that Caleb treasures the most, just having so much fun with you, seeing the look of happiness on your face.

"[Y/N]! You can't hide forever."

You hear Caleb call out, but you didn't respond, as you were still hiding behind the tree you picked out. You slid down the tree into a kneeling crouch, staying as quiet as you could so he couldn't hear. You can hear the faint steps of shoes crunching on the grassy ground come closer and closer. Your heart pounding heavily inside your chest, until suddenly you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

You wait a few moments and still you couldn't hear Caleb, nor did he call out again. It was silent, too silent.

You got up from crouching and turn yourself around to look around the tree, seeing no trace of where Caleb was. This caused your heart to skip in fear. You curse inside your head before backing away, knowing Caleb probably would jump out and likely find where you are. You had to get out of there quickly.

And so you do back away.

Right into Calebs chest.

His lips right next your ear, with and evil smirk stretching across his lips.

"Gotcha~"

"Aah!"

Before you know it, his hands grappled your waist, immediately going into a full-on tickle fight. His fingers digging into your sides, tickling you with no mercy whatsoever. You laugh, tears pricking your eyes as you try to move away from his assault. But no, this boy had an iron hold on you.

"Caleb! Haha...w-wait nooo~!"

"After running from me, this is your punishment pipsqueak~"

You whine and moan trying to find a way to get out of this situation. It wasn't until you both found yourself on the ground where you had found an opportunity. His body towered over yours as he stops tickling you for a moment, watching as you trying to catch your breath. The moment you do was the moment you striked, as your hands were placed upon his shoulders. Pushing him over onto the grass with you straddling his waist.

"Ha! Take that!"

Caleb laughs grinning with playful mischief.

"The games not over yet babe!"

His hands are on your waist again as he then tackles you back down, rolling you onto the grass while he was right above you again. Your shock face turns into determination, taking that as a challenge. You roll over him again to pin him down, and he does the same. The both of you laughing about as the two of your rolled along the meadow, trying to pin one another.

It wasn't until Calbe gets dizzy that he stops this. Forcefully manhandling you down with much ease. His hands now pinning your wrists above your head. He pants heavily, looking down at you with his own victorious smile; his looming presence shadows your own body. You try to wiggle away with no avail, Caleb having too much of a hold on you. No match for his ridiculous amount of strength.

"Give up?"

You grunt before letting out a long sigh, head dropping on ground hair messy as well as your clothes. It was a simple pair of jean shorts and [F/C] shirt. He was messy as well, you can see a few grass strands cling to his body, shirt, and pants. A few specks of dirt here and there. His hair was messy, his dog tag necklace dangling above you. You can feel your cheeks heat up, defeated and embarrassed.

You grumble to yourself, looking away from his lingering gaze which made him chuckle. Thinking just how cute you were pinned beneath him, it made his heart flutter.

"Fine, I give up.

Caleb hums, "Good."

He leans down to kiss your lips making your eyes widen but lean into the kiss anyway. He pulls away only to cover your entire face with kisses, causing you to giggle from his cute actions. He continues to do this, even going down to your neck which made you chuckle even more.

Caleb then sighs blissfully in between you neck and shoulder.

He stops and let's go of your wrists, only for him to put his full body weight on top of you. His head laying on your chest nuzzling you, his eyes closed as he basks in this moment the two of you shared.

"Agh, Caleb your heavy...get off~"

"Hmm...nah, let's stay like this for a little while more..."

He says this holding you close like you were so teddy bear. You sigh as you look up at the clear blue sky, feeling the cool wind on your face making you feel a bit drowsy yourself. Your hands wrapped around his head, hands threading through his dark brown locks. Nails scratching his scalp making him groan, burring his head more into your chest.

Everything felt so peaceful and calm in that very moment.

That is until something shifts and prods against your mid-thigh.

"Uh...Caleb?"

"Sorry squeaks, you can't really blame me here."

════════════════════════════

XAVIER

He got a call from Tara.

Saying something about helping her with you in the mix of things, it sounded urgent. So of course, Xavier immediately got up to go over to where you were. You told Xavier that you were going out with Tara and Simone for a girl's night out. Just a simple date with the crew, drinking and some karaoke. He smiles to this, saying to be careful and have fun, giving you a kiss as he watched you head out.

And now he watches as you were singing your heart out to some random song, standing on top of a table, microphone in hand, as you slur the lyrics to the song badly. He watched this drunk you in action with amusement but worry. Tara was also there watching the hilarious scene, but she was sat next to Simone who was also heavily drunk, cheering you on with slurred "Whoos", her eyes barely open. Tara was holding her up as she was slumped against the couch, trying to get her to drink water.

"It's been like this for an hour; can you take care of [Y/N]. I have to get Simone back to her place; it's a bit far."

Xavier nods his head, "Yeah, I'll take care of her. You go on ahead."

Tara nods and she gets up bring Simone on her feet. She wobbles and whines about how she wants to stay more, but Tara declines that. She had already called a taxi to come pick them up. Both exit the room, leaving just you and Xavier. You didn't even know Xavier was in the room, to focused on the song at hand.

That was until Xavier grabbed the remote and paused the karaoke game on the tv, the room now silent, making you groan and turn to him. There was a pout on your face, but it soon turned to a goofy smile as you saw your boyfriend was here.

"Xaaavier, your here!"

You lifted up your arms joyfully making Xavier chuckle.

"[Y/N] what are you doing?"

You laugh.

"I'm singing obviously, duuh, c-come on up...and sing with meee~"

You start to dance on top of the table, making it wobble. And Xavier catches this, worried about your well-being.

"I think you done enough singing for today angel, how about we go home."

You turn to him with a sad pout.

"What? Nooo...the night is young just one more song pleeeease~"

"You're drunk [Y/N], you have to come home."

Your head shakes, as you crossed your arms like a child.

"How dare you good sir, I'm not drunk...can a drunk person dance like this!"

You then dance terribly on top of the table, limbs moving carelessly in the air, your skirt flowing with every movement of your hips. Xavier sees this and shakes his head with a laugh exiting his lips. He found this adorable; you completely wasted dancing like nobody watching. It almost made him wish he had his phone to record this silly moment of you.

But his amusement turned into worry as he saw the table wobbling again, this time more frequently.

"[Y/N], how about we get down-"

"No way party pooper, I'm not fini-"

The table buckled violently underneath you, causing you to stumble and fall. The microphone in your hand falling out and onto the floor with a loud thud. You gasp, heart pounding in your chest as you felt the scary sensation of falling. But Xavier being the quick person he is caught you just in time. His arms wrapped around your waist securely, as you had wrapped your arms around his neck. Xavier made your legs wrap around his waist, his hands holding your thighs so you wouldn't go anywhere. Your body was shaking from the frightening fall, sobering you up just a bit.

"Uhm...you know what...your right...I should probably get home...yeah."

You said as you try to calm your frantic heart, clinging onto Xavier like a life preserver. You can hear him chuckle at your words in your ear, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. He doesn't say anything but walk over to grab an un-open bottled water for you and your purse. His one hand still carrying you with no struggle. You can feel your heats heat up in embarrassment, as you and Xavier walked out of the karaoke room. A few passersby's watching confused at the situation.

You moan, hiding your face in his neck, you can feel the chill air of the night as Xavier walks out the building.

"Here, drink."

Xavier orders you to drink the water, presenting it to you. You grab the bottle, unscrewing the cap before taking a nice swig of water down your throat. One hand was wrapped around his neck while the other clutched the bottle, groaning at the cool refreshing water. Xavier continued to walk down the sidewalk, his hands clutching underneath your thighs that still was wrapped around his waist. You stop drinking the water when done, the liquid reaching the bottom of the bottle, as it was almost finished. You let out a long sigh, resting your head on Xavier's shoulder.

"Feeling a bit better?"

"Mhm..."

You mumbled with a yawn. There was silence between you two as Xavier continued to walk with you still in his arms. You can still feel the embarrassment still lingering in your cheeks. Your boyfriend seeing your dance ridiculously while also carrying you like a child. You can see a few more people walk along the sidewalk seeing this embarrassing situation you've gotten yourself in. You wiggle in Xavier's tight grasp he has on you. His manhandling on you getting to your head, but he doesn't care as he holds on to you tightly not wanting to let you go.

"Y-You know you can set me down now, I can walk."

Xavier smiles shaking his head. He leans into your neck giving you sweet butterfly kisses all before he nips at your neck with his teeth. Causing you to gasp and whine more, face hotter than before.

"No, I think I'll hold you till we get back. Who knows what will happen if I let you go. You might just climb up one of these lamp posts and start dancing~"

"Xaaavier.."

Yeah, you had a feeling he'd hold this over you for a while.

════════════════════════════

ZAYNE

"Are you going to wear those?"

That's the question Zayne asked you firsthand. Seeing you place on a pair of nice heels on. Heels that were a little higher than the normal pair of heels you would usually wear to a formal event. The two of you were going out to a fancy gathering with some of Zayne's collogues. There was a plus one, and Zayne asked if you had wanted to accompany him to which you had said yes. Knowing that he finds you company to these certain event barrable then if he had gone alone.

You looked up at him with a coy smile stretched across your lips. You hand leaving your feet as you just finished placing the second heel on your right foot. You stand up giving him a good spin around, showcasing your beautiful outfit to him. A long silver dress, your hair up in a tight bun, earrings, a necklace, and those high heels.

"What? The heels? You don't like them?"

Zayne doesn't say anything, only starting down at the shiny silver heels you wore. He adjusts his tie on his tux, as his body was facing a bedroom mirror.

"They're a bit higher than what you normally wear my love."

You get what he was saying to you, that these heels were too much. How he was worried you'd be too uncomfortable all throughout the evening wearing them. Getting yourself hurt making it unbearable to walk. But you were too confident and stubborn, thinking nothing of it when putting on these heels. You looked too good in your outfit, and these heels topped it off, you figured you could handle them.

"Yeah, but I can handle them perfectly see."

You walked like a model on a runway, showing him how you were comfortable with these heels on your feet. You then turn to him with a playful smirk, a hand on your hips.

"See, easy no need to worry I'm fine."

Zayne cocks a brow up as he looks at you for a moment, as if scanning your expressions. He then sighs rolling his eyes back over to the mirror he was facing, checking out his appearance for the final time.

"Alright then, don't come complaining to me when your feet are in agony."

You puff your cheeks at him, sticking your tongue out playfully.

"Oh please! I'm stronger than I look, I bet I can even last the whole night!"

Zayne lets out a small huff of a laugh, while shaking his head, a small but all-knowing grin curling the corner of his lips.

"I know you're strong honey, c'mon it's about time we head out."

And that's where are story leads us, to you sitting on an expensive couch in a private room with Zayne. Your legs and feet propped up on Zayne's lap as his rough hands massaged the soles of your feet. His suit jacket was off, as the sleeves of his black dress blazer was rolled up to his elbows showing his scars. You were dramatically laying back against the couch's armrest, letting out pitiful groans and whines. Your head was tilt back to the decorative ceiling; the feeling of Zayne's hands massage you making you sigh with relief.

Thirty minutes.

Once you reached the thirty-minute mark of wearing those heels, began the intense pain that came after it. You tried your best to stifle the pain away, tried to grin your best smile while taking to many of Zanye's collogues. But the searing pain of those damn heels digging into your skin, making your feet sore with every second. The constant ache with every step you took. Hell, you even stumbled a bit which made people question if you're okay which was embarrassing. It wasn't until you actually stumble and fall into you boyfriend's arms that you knew you were done.

Here was your boyfriend, guiding you to a private room away from the massive party of onlookers. Guiding you gently to the couch so you can sit. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to say anything because you already know what's going through his mind.

"I guessing this is the part where you say I told you so."

Zayne chuckles at your pouty tone. Even with your disgruntled appearance he still finds you absolutely gorgeous. One of his hands ran up and down your legs, your dress ridding up a bit, as his hands made contact with your thigh causing you to shiver. He gives you thigh a good squeeze before lifting your right foot up, making you quirk an eyebrow at him. But it soon went away when his lips pressed a chaste kiss against your ankle. Giving you a good number of kisses till he reached about twelve.

"I wouldn't stoop to such lows my beloved."

He speaks sending a painfully blissful pressure point to your bottom foot causing you to whimper. God, when it came to massages, he was so great at them, always manhandling your body, subduing you into a messy puddle.

"But I will say next time please don't compromise your own health just because of some fashionable clothes, okay?"

You look up at him, seeing his gentle expression towards you. Your heart flickers, giving him small smile back.

"Okay...sorry for cutting the party short."

"No apologies needed, I wasn't really focused on it anyway...now-"

Zayne had placed your legs and feet aside before standing up from the couch. He then gets his suit jacket and places it along your shoulders. He gets your heels in one hand, before wrapping his left arm around you to pick you up. You gasp in shock, wrapping your arms around your neck as he picks you up, one hand with ease. He gives you a smirk, making your cheeks flush and stomach twist.

"-Let's get you back home so I can take care of you."

"B-But wait! What about the others? Seeing me like this in your arms?"

Zayne only walks back to the door that led you to the private room, his right hand the held your heels operating to twist the door handle.

"I'll just say I'm tending to my dear patient who's in need of my assistance~"

And that's exactly what he said, though a big portion of embarrassment still resided inside you as you were carried away. All because a pair of some stupid heels.

════════════════════════════

[deepspacedarling]

Enough cute things, I want to see some ANGST

What is an argument like with the LnDS men?

Fighting with The LADS Boys

Warnings: Couples fighting. Nothing crazy.

AN: noooooooo I hate angst! But I do have some ideas for this one!!

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

Xavier

If he's mad at you, like GENUINELY mad at you, he's seething internally. His face is impassive but his body is shaking. It doesn't matter how angry he is, he never raises his voice but his tone is damn near hostile. On the outside, he's perfectly composed. Inside, he's a ball of rage. He'll never let it out though, he loves you and doesn't want to scare you so he just hurts himself internally.

He's so stubborn and it's infuriating. He's not willing to change his mind initially and he's not willing to see things from your perspective. He's right. Why don't you see that he's right? What are you not getting????

Fights with him end with him leaving the apartment and disappearing for a while. You don't know where he goes but when he comes back he's exhausted and a little more willing to talk without getting angry.

Zayne

When you're genuinely arguing, his side of the conversation is very matter of fact. His responses are direct and clipped. His arms are folded over his chest. He's a wall of indifference or at least that's what it seems like. He's actually falling apart internally but he doesn't know how to be vulnerable like that externally so he just combusts inside instead.

He's very quick to disengage with you. If he sees that the conversation is not going to be productive, he'll leave you to "collect your thoughts".

Fights with him end with him going to another room. He's very clear that he wants to resolve the matter but he won't engage with you while you're "behaving like a child" Say that alone might start another argument.

Rafayel

Every fight starts out with a scoff from him and then it's off to the races. He's overly dramatic and goes for the throat. Someone is leaving this argument in tears and it's a 50/50 if it's you or him.

In my mind, he's one of the only LADS guy you could get to start shouting. His hands are on his hips. His eyes are furious. He's matching whatever energy you're giving off and then dialing it up 100%. He's so emotional about everything because he needs you to understand his point of view. He needs you to understand him.

Fights with him always end with you both going to separate corners and not talking to each other for a while.

Sylus

Sylus doesn't fight with you. Defending yourself in an argument is for people who are wrong. He's right. Get over it. He tends to treat arguments more flippantly. He doesn't see why you're so up in arms about whatever it is you're fighting about. But the second he sees that you're dead serious, that amused look on his face is gone.

He's more standoffish when you're genuinely fighting. Eyebrow raised, looking down at you waiting for your next retort. You can see his walls creeping up bit by bit with each new insult you're flinging back and forth. He's secretly very afraid of you leaving him if he shows weakness for even a second.

Arguments with him end with nothing really being resolved. You'll both continue with your day and be thinking about what to say next when the topic inevitably comes back up again.

Caleb

In his mind, it's not a matter of if he's right. It's a matter of how quickly he can get you to SEE that he's right. If you're digging your heels in, he'll roll his eyes and sigh which will only set you off more and then the REAL argument begins.

His anger is shown initially in small ways. His eye or brow twitching. His lips pursing. Fists clenching. Words through clenched teeth. He's looking you dead in the eye while you're arguing with him but you can tell he's NOT actually listening to you. Once he's pissed enough, he explodes and he's shouting. He's a door slammer. He's storming out once he's had enough and he needs to leave to cool down.

Arguments with him always end up with him trying to get away from you. His emotions are always out of whack and he's so afraid of hurting you (mentally or emotionally. He'd NEVER hurt you physically). Despite that, he'll spend the next 10 hours thinking over the fight and what he did wrong and how to keep you from leaving him.

Requests are Open!

[leighsartworks216]

If You're Quiet During Sex (Headcanons)

Sylus x gn!Reader + Zayne x gn!Reader (separate)

Had this thought because I'm quiet During so I got a little self-deprecating about what they'd think about it... but then I remembered the boys would never make me feel ashamed for that shit

Warnings: sexual content

Word Count: 434 (cool, it's like a little kissy face)

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Sylus

Probably thinks he's not making you feel good enough at first

Shocked when you orgasm because you were so quiet, surely he didn't make you cum already???

Brings it up right away, asks if you liked it

Admits that he expected you to make more noise

If it's purely from inexperience or anxiety, he's more than happy to spend time breaking down those barriers. He won't force you to make noise, but he's definitely more forthcoming with his own sounds to encourage you. Any sound you do make, he's praising you for it and trying to draw it out of you again

If moaning really just isn't your thing, he just asks that you tell him if something feels good or bad. He wants to pleasure you, and he wants to make sure he's doing things you like when he might not notice your little tells in the heat of the moment

Either way, he does keep track of your tells. If you close your eyes and tilt your head back, mouth hanging open, small whimpers or shivers - he's looking for whatever it is that tells him you're enjoying yourself

He's moderately noisy during sex. He'll moan and talk, but it's not like he's trying to project it. It's more close to you, contained in the space between you both, but not so quiet he has to be in your ear to hear it

-

Zayne

I feel like he wouldn't question it as much

Because he's also not very vocal

He himself is very breathy and whines a little, but full moans are few and far between

Communicates a LOT about what you do and don't enjoy before, during and after

Sometimes requests you to speak (*ahem* "Say my name..." from Silent Poem, I'm looking at you), but never pushes you to be loud

If you're quiet because of anxiety or inexperience, he's as reassuring and encouraging as he can be. Would honestly be so proud of you if you start being louder and more vocal over time, because it means you're comfortable with him and that means the world to him. Says as much afterward, cuddling you and nuzzling into your neck with a lovestruck grin as he does

I wonder if you couldn't also influence him into being more noisy during sex. Command or beg him to say your name, tell you how good he feels, suck and bite at his most sensitive spots until he's a whining, simpering mess.....

Imagine his own surprise when you touch him and he lets out a very loud moan that even he wasn't expecting

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[genshinluvr]

Love Me, Touch Me, Eat Me

Pairings: Various Love&Deepspace Men x reader (Caleb x reader, Rafayel x reader, Zayne x reader, Sylus x reader, Xavier x reader— separate)

Summary: You love him, and he loves you. You love the way he makes you feel, how he shows his love for you. You love the little things he does for you, and he loves every little thing about you. You also love how he buries his cock deep inside you— almost as much as he loves the feeling of your gummy walls around him.

Note: Wowie, my first Love&Deepspace smut! I was heavily debating if I wanted the LADS men to run a train on reader or if I should just make it into a separate smut where each man gets their smut portion. I had the spinning wheel choose the fic style and the order in which they were. Due to the contents in this fanfic, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! If anyone is interested in joining, my Discord server is currently open. If you're interested in joining a small community of people who play LADS alongside Hoyoverse games, I'll provide the server link at the end of this fic. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, PiV sex, mirror sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, doggy style, cowgirl, bath sex, vaginal fingering, double penetration, anal sex, Rafayel has two cocks, slight exhibitionism, missionary, mating press.

Word Count: 6.5k

Sometimes, words aren’t enough to express how much you love each other. You love how he makes you feel, how much he cares about you, and how he shows his love and care for you. Whenever you return from a long and tiring mission, he’s the first one to greet you when you return to Linkon City. When it’s raining and you forgot to bring an umbrella, he has an umbrella ready to go, shielding you from the raindrops. 

Whenever it’s his birthday, you make sure to go all out for him. You make sure to invite all of his close friends and colleagues to the birthday party before straying away from the party to spend some alone time with him. The way he gazes at you with love and gratitude, wrapping his arms around your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck, whispering “happy birthday” into his ears, kissing his cheeks.

Every time you return from a solo mission, the first thing he does (aside from twirling you around in his arms and kissing your lips) is to check for any injury on your body. No matter how small the injury, he’s hovering around you, making sure you’re okay. The one time when you sustained a near-fatal injury almost sent him into a frenzy. When you regained your consciousness, he was by your side, holding your hands and making sure you were comfortable. You reach up and rub his furrowing eyebrows, watching the creases slowly smooth over before he lets out a relieved sigh, burying his face into your neck.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, tightening his arms around you while making sure not to hurt you in the process.

You kiss the crown of his head, running your hands through his hair. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” you joke, resting your chin on his head.

The fear of losing you is greater than anything he can imagine. He would rather lose everything than lose you.

You are absolutely obsessed with him, and he’s obsessed with you. Probably more than you are with him, but who’s keeping track? He loves the feeling of your soft and gentle touch against his skin, the way you run your fingers through his hair, and the way your hand is much smaller compared to his. 

There are times when you would initiate a play fight with him, just to see something. You wanted to see if you could dominate someone as big as he is, and you’re certain you can very much do that. Sometimes he lets you win so that he can see the adorably huge smile plastered on your face while you loudly cheer and declare victory.

You stand over him, both hands propped on your hips with your chest puffed out. “I’m the winner! I am officially stronger than you!” You said, poking the tip of his nose.

He grabs you by the wrist, leaning on the couch with a lazy smile. “Yeah, you got me. How should I reward the winner, hm?” 

You contemplate, looking away from your prey. With you distracted, he takes that opportunity to pull you forward. Your breath gets caught in your throat when you stumble forward, falling on top of him. You look down at him, playfully glaring at him while he smirks up at you. Before you open your mouth to say something, he flips you over onto your back, pinning you to the couch with your arms above your head. His large hands easily cover your much smaller ones. 

You glare up at him, blowing the strands of hair away from your face. “That’s not fair! I was distracted!”

He lightly boops your nose with a teasing grin. “Tsk, tsk. Never take your eyes away from the enemy.”

You continue to glare at him, staring holes into his skull. The man above you laughs, leaning down, his face mere inches away from yours. You gulp, the glare you once had on your face quickly melts into something more… meek. It’s cute, really— seeing a kitten retract her claws when a much bigger predator comes into light. 

- Caleb: - 

Caleb loves eating you out, and when he does it, he makes sure you enjoy it as much as he does. He loves feeling you squirm underneath him, legs pinned against your chest while he buries his face into your dripping cunt. The sounds you make while he licks and slurps your juices drive him insane.

Your fingers are tangled in his soft, black hair, biting down on your lips to keep the noises to a minimum. “Fuck, Caleb~” you whine, thighs feeling sore due to having it pinned against your chest for who knows how long now. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.”

The thought of you cumming in his mouth for the third time motivates him to continue what he’s doing. Your back arches as you feel the familiar feeling in your lower abdomen. It’s like a knot that is getting tighter and tighter as you approach your orgasm. Only this time, it’s different because you feel overstimulated.

“Caleb, I’m going to cum!” You whine, grip tightening on his hair.

Caleb releases your left leg and begins to pinch and roll your clit, occasionally tugging on your engorged bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves throughout your trembling body. You let out a choked moan, tensing underneath Caleb when your orgasm hits you like a train. When you go completely limp on your bed, Caleb proceeds to slurp up your juices while occasionally taking your clit in his mouth and sucking on them.

You lightly push his shoulder. “You’re going to overstimulate me even more,” you whine, squinting at Caleb.

Caleb laughs, pressing a kiss on the side of your thigh before kneeling. “Oh? I thought you liked being overstimulated. Last time I checked, you challenged me to see how many times I can get you to cum—”

“I know, but not just by eating me out, you panty sniffer!” You whine.

Caleb stares at you, mouth agape. Wait, did he hear you correctly? You and Caleb stare at each other in silence. Caleb scoffs, shaking his head while poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. There’s no way in hell you know about him sniffing your panties while you’re away and he’s doing your laundry. Caleb pretends not to hear what you call him before flipping you over on your stomach.

Caleb chuckles, shaking his head as he adjusts you to get on your elbows and knees. “You really like pushing my buttons, don’t you, pipsqueak?” Caleb asks, smacking your ass.

You yelp in surprise and look at Caleb over your shoulder. “Yeah, and what about it? You love it.” You stick your tongue out at Caleb.

You don’t hear a response from Caleb. Instead, you feel something warm and hard brushing up against your thighs. You unintentionally shudder at the feeling while Caleb parts your legs. You face the bedframe, mentally prepping for what’s to come.

Caleb grabs his hard cock, strokes it a few times before pressing it against your sopping wet heat. You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut when you feel Caleb slowly sink his cock into your dripping cunt. You grasp onto the bedsheets, clenching your jaws when the stretch continues as Caleb sinks further into you.

“Fuck,” you and Caleb gasp.

Caleb slowly leans forward, covering your body with his, and pressing his chest against your back. He wraps his arm around your waist, burying his face into your neck when every inch of him is inside you. Caleb gives you time to adjust to his size, feeling you tremble in his arms and your gummy wall pulsing around his dick.

Caleb lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re squeezing me really hard, there, pipsqueak.”

“You’re balls deep inside me, and you’re calling me pipsqueak?” You whimper, trying to adjust to the size of Caleb’s cock.

Caleb unwraps his arm around your waist before grabbing onto your right leg, folding it to your chest before slowly pulling his cock out of you. Caleb doesn’t completely pull his cock out of your warm entrance, he leaves only the tip inside for about thirty seconds before slamming back into you. You cry out, your walls squeezing his member.

Caleb continues to hover over you while thrusting into your squelching cunt. Caleb’s trying so hard to hold back from fucking you into the mattress. The sound of skin-to-skin contact fills the once-quiet air, along with the sounds of your gasps, moans, and whimpers. Both his hands make their way to your waist, grabbing your waist with an iron grip.

“You’re so tight,” Caleb mutters through clenched teeth.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when the tip of Caleb’s cock hits your g-spot, making you shudder and gasp. Caleb sends one hard thrust into your cunt, causing both your arms to give out from underneath you.

“Ha~ sorry, pipsqueak. I couldn’t help myself,” Caleb pants, now lying on top of you.

Before you can retort, Caleb quickens his thrusts into your dripping cunt. You dig your nails into Caleb’s arms, squealing when the mushroom tip of his cock repeatedly batters your cervix. You feel Caleb wrap his hand around your neck, pulling you up against his chest while he continuously thrusts into you.

Caleb’s chest heaves with every breath. “You like that, don’t you? You were begging for it, and now that I’m giving you what you want, are you satisfied?” Caleb whispers into your ears.

You bite down on your lips, drawing blood. “Mmhm! I… I…” You trail off, your eyes nearly crossing when he hits the same spot with his cock.

Caleb snickers, burying his face into your neck before licking a stripe up your neck. “That’s not an answer, [Y/N]. Use your words.” Caleb coos.

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, I like it, Caleb!” You wail, writhing in his arms as he continues to pistons his thick cock into your abused hole. 

There’s no way in hell you’ll last another hour. Caleb made you cum twice already and you’re feeling overstimulated, your cunt feels raw and sore with how hard and fast Caleb’s thrusting into you. Satisfied with your answer, Caleb bites down on your neck and continues plowing into you with no remorse, chasing his impending orgasm that’s rapidly approaching.

- Xavier: -

“Xavier, what if someone walks by and sees us?” You whimper, tightening your legs and arms around his waist and neck.

Xavier ignores your question as he continues to pounds his cock deep inside you. You arch against Xavier’s chest, body tingling with each thrust. Both you and Xavier are still mostly dressed— you’re wearing a sheer white dress, your panties discarded to the side, on the ground in your apartment. Xavier’s gray slacks are unzipped and pulled down to his mid-thigh; his white button-up shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his bare chest, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Xavier thrusts up into your cunt, making you gasp out loud and tug on his damp hair. 

“Oh, fuck! Xavier~!” You moan, head falling onto his shoulder.

All you can hear is Xavier’s panting, and soft grunts as he spears you onto his cock repeatedly. His grip around your waist tightens, his knuckles turning white. Xavier stops thrusting into you momentarily, carrying you away from the window, much to your relief. Your cunt involuntarily clenches around his thick cock, sending tingles throughout Xavier’s body.

Much to your dismay, Xavier unsheathes his member from your sweltering hole and tosses you onto your couch. You bounce and prop yourself up on your elbows, chest heaving up and down with every breath you take.

You watch Xavier toss his shirt haphazardly somewhere in your living room before pulling both his boxers and slacks down to his ankles. You gulp, can’t help but be mesmerized by how his cock bounces over slight movement. When Xavier completely strips himself bare, he looks at you through his thick lashes, locking eyes with you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately, making you look away shyly. Xavier walks over to the edge of the couch, grabs your ankle, and yanks you towards the edge of the couch. You squeal and stare up at Xavier with wide eyes, feeling yourself clench around nothing. God, you love it when Xavier manhandles you around like a ragdoll.

“You’re still dressed,” Xavier comments, eyeing the white slip dress you’re still wearing.

You clear your throat, tucking your unruly hair behind your ears. “Was I supposed to take the dress off?” You feign ignorance, pressing your lips into a thin line to prevent yourself from grinning from ear to ear.

Xavier hums, sliding his hand up your thigh and close to your swollen, wet cunt. “Do you, perhaps, need help with taking it off?” Xavier asks innocently, his blue eyes flickering to your face, waiting for your response.

He’s staring at you with those puppy-dog eyes of his. Those damn eyes, he knows what he’s doing. Xavier can easily manipulate you into thinking he’s harmless, only for him to do irreparable damage to your insides. And you let him do it every time he wants to, because how can you not?

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “It’s a little hard to take off, if I’m being honest. Can you help me take it off—” 

You’re cut off by Xavier grabbing the end of the white slip dress, yanking it over your head. You’re now bare naked on your couch, legs spread wide open for Xavier. Xavier tosses the dress over his shoulders before crawling on top of you. You lie down on the couch, staring up at Xavier as he situates himself over you. Xavier gently brushes your hair with his fingers and kisses your forehead. You do the same with Xavier, smiling up at your beloved.

He leans down, close to your ears, asking, “Are you ready? Can I continue where I left off?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. You can continue,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around Xavier’s shoulders and kissing his jawline.

Xavier kisses the side of your head. “Good,” he murmurs, grabbing the base of his cock and lines it up in front of your entrance.

You and Xavier gaze into each other's eyes. Xavier pumps his cock, lightly tapping the bulbous tip of his cock on your cunt, coating his cock with your juices. Your heart races against your chest, anticipating Xavier’s cock breaching your entrance. Xavier slowly slides the tip of his member into your entrance, earning a soft gasp from you.

Even though Xavier was ravaging your insides not even ten minutes ago, the feeling of Xavier’s thick cock breaching your entrance again continues to feel foreign to you. Xavier’s eyes roll to the back of his head the more he sinks his cock further into your gummy entrance. Halfway into sinking his cock into you, Xavier suddenly slams the rest of his member into you, earning a choked gasp from you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Xavier mutters, burying his face into your neck.

You tighten your arms around Xavier’s neck, wrap one leg around his waist, and press him up against you. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a hiss when he slowly pulls out before plunging his cock back into your squelching hole. Xavier gulps and slowly moves his face down to where your boobs are before latching his lips onto your nipples, sucking and swirling his tongue over your perky nipples.

The pace of Xavier’s thrusts gradually becomes faster. You’re whimpering beneath him, clenching from the intrusion, sopping wet from previous activities, tits bouncing with each thrusts. You swear to the gods that the more Xavier plunges his member into you, your walls will remember every vein and ridges on his cock.

Xavier releases your nipple with a wet pop, crashing his lips onto yours, and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You tangle your fingers into Xavier’s hair, lightly tugging on his soft hair. Xavier moans and whimpers into your mouth when your gummy walls squeezes his cock. You break the kiss, crying out in ecstasy when the tip of his dick punches your cervix.

At this point, you and Xavier have been going at it like rabbits. Xavier tosses your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half. The new position triggers something in you, forming a tight knot in your lower abdomen as Xavier continues hammering his cock into you. You don’t think you can last much longer, and knowing Xavier, he can last way longer than you can. If he has to make you cum more than five times just to be able to chase his release, then that is what he will do.

- Rafayel: -

You and Rafayel sit in his bathtub, your back is pressing up against his chest. The water in the bathtub reaches up to your chest. Both you and Rafayel returned from Rafayel’s art exhibit not too long ago and have decided to take a bubble bath as a way to end the night. Just when you thought it was going to be a relaxing bubble bath with your boyfriend, you’re wrong. As always. What did you really expect?

You lay your head on Rafayel’s shoulders, a soft gasp escaping your lips when Rafayel inserts his index and middle finger into your entrance. “Rafayel~! You said we were going to have a relaxing bubble bath,” you whine, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Rafayel plants kisses up your neck, hiding his smug smile. “What do you mean, cutie? This is relaxing, no?” Rafayel asks nonchalantly, pulling his fingers out of your cunt before plunging them back in, earning a choked moan from you. Rafayel’s no music critic, but the sounds you’re making are nothing but music to his ears. 

You bite your lips, grabbing onto his arms beneath the bubbly water. “I should’ve seen this coming. Every time we take a bath together, you’re either knuckles deep inside me, or you’re balls deep inside me,” you mutter, cracking your eyes open to look at him.

The tips of Rafayel’s ears and the apples of his cheeks are bright red. You can’t tell if it’s from arousal or embarrassment. Rafayel doesn’t respond to you and proceeds to part your legs open with his unoccupied hand, raising your right leg and placing it on the edge of his bathtub. Rafayel continues to thrust his fingers into your cunt, his thumb pressing down and rubbing your throbbing, engorged clit, sending shockwaves throughout your body. 

You gasp, nails digging into his arms. “Fuck, Rafayel.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Rafayel increases his pace.

“Gods, do you know what you’re doing to me?” Rafayel pants, closing his eyes and sucking on your neck, leaving hickies behind.

You’re so occupied by the feeling of Rafayel fingering you that you almost failed to notice his cocks becoming erect at the sounds of your moans and the mere thought of ravaging your insides. You reach behind your back, grabbing onto one of his cocks and start pumping it. Rafayel unlatches his mouth from your neck and hisses, burying his face into your collarbone, now knuckles deep inside your pussy.

You slowly stroke Rafayel’s cock, squeezing and rubbing the head of his member. Rafayel hisses, nearly whimpering when you gently rub the tip. His reaction makes you pause, worried that you might’ve done something to elicit that reaction from him. Rafayel grabs your hand and continues to have you stroke his member, shaking his head, the flush on the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears redder than ever.

“I’m fine, cutie. Don’t stop now,” Rafayel pleads, giving you the puppy-dog eyes.

You gaze at Rafayel, his eyes glazed over with pleasure and need. To Rafayel’s dismay, you release his cock before cupping his face in your hands. Rafayel closes his eyes and leans forward, pressing his lips against yours, practically devouring your lips. Rafayel takes his fingers out of your cunt, grabbing you by the waist before pulling you onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, now straddling his waist.

Rafayel grabs his cock, lining it up in front of your throbbing pussy. He slowly lowers you onto his cock, breaching your entrance, his member now buried in your gummy walls. Rafayel moans into the kiss, unintentionally slamming you down onto his cock when he’s barely halfway inside you. You break the kiss with a loud gasp, your head thrown back, back arching, boobs pressing against his chest. 

You whimper, “Oh, fuck, Rafayel.” Your body tenses up because of the stretch, before ultimately collapsing against his chest with a mewl. 

Rafayel bites his lower lip, his eyes rolling back as he rests his head against the edge of the tub. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, rubbing your hipbone with his thumbs. Rafayel’s tempted to insert his second cock into you, but he knows that would be too soon and you’re not yet prepared for it. Maybe after he gets you to cum once, then he’ll reconsider. But for now, he’ll have to accept the current situation. 

“You’re the horniest man I know,” you mumble, looking up at him.

Rafayel opens his eyes and looks down at you, staring at you blankly. “You know other horny men?” Rafayel asks.

You and Rafayel stare at each other, not saying a word. It’s not like you know other horny men, but your statement stands! You can’t do anything without Rafayel wanting to bury his cock inside you 24/7. Heck, maybe someone’s going to have to surgically remove Rafayel from your pussy because that man will not want to pull out at all. 

Rafayel shakes his head. “I’m going to let what you said slide for now. I’m too horny right now.” Rafayel states, sitting up straight and adjusting you in his lap. Before you can retort, Rafayel grabs you by your ass cheeks and starts bouncing you on his pulsing cock. You bury your face into his neck, letting Rafayel guide you up and down on his large member. Sometimes you forget that a certain part of Rafayel’s body isn’t the average human size. 

Instead of one cock like a human man, Rafayel has two. His cock has these bumps and ridges that scrapes the inside of your cunt so good, adding extra pleasure to your love making. The tip of his cock isn’t bulbous for the most part— the tip of his cock, the very tip of it, has a point. It’s certainly not sharp, but it does make Rafayel hit your cervix easily. 

Each time Rafayel hits your cervix, you swear that you feel him in your guts. Rafayel pauses for a moment, grabbing his neglected second cock and lining it up against your ass. You stare at Rafayel, eyes bleary with lust and confusion.

Rafayel swallows the lump in his throat. “Let’s try something new, cutie. Are you down for it?” Rafayel whispers, rubbing the tip against your asshole. 

You nod, too drunk on his cock to answer properly. 

Rafayel smiles and kisses your temple. “That’s my girl.” He murmurs, slowly sinking his second cock into your ass with a grunt. Rafayel said that he was going to fuck you with his second cock after he gets you to cum the first time, but fuck. He can’t resist any longer and needs to fill both your holes with his cocks, and luckily for him, you’re taking it like a good girl.

- Zayne: -

“Dr. Zayne? Do you have a minute to spare?” Dr. Greyson asks from behind Zayne’s closed office door.

You and Zayne stare at each other like a deer caught in headlights. Zayne’s shirt is unbuttoned, and his pants and boxers are unzipped and pulled to his ankles. You, on the other hand, are on your knees before the Cardiac Surgeon with his cock in your mouth. You’re about to pull Zayne’s member out from your mouth, but Zayne grabs your head, keeping you in place while shaking his head.

Zayne clears his throat. “Yes, one moment, please, Dr. Greyson,” Zayne says.

Dr. Greyson stands outside Zayne’s office, flipping through patient charts. There are some things Dr. Greyson wanted to discuss with the Cardiac Surgeon, but he struggled to find the doctor until Yvonne informed him of a certain Miss Hunter stopping by to have lunch with the Cardiac Surgeon in his office. Of course, Dr. Greyson decides to give you two some privacy until the lunch break was almost over for Zayne. 

After what felt like forever, Dr. Greyson hears Zayne call out to him to enter the office. When Dr. Greyson enters the office, he notices it’s empty and you’re nowhere to be seen. Zayne is sitting at his desk, typing away on the computer and writing something down on a piece of paper. A report of some sort, perhaps?

Zayne looks at Dr. Greyson, nodding. “What is it that you need to discuss with me about?” Zayne asks.

Dr. Greyson sits across from Zayne and presents the patient's chart before going on a tangent, asking various questions. While Zayne and Dr. Greyson converse with one another, beneath the deak is you, with your mouth still latched onto Zayne’s cock. You slowly pull his cock out of your mouth, slowly pumping it, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Oh, I see! Well, I thought it was strange the patient wasn’t receiving enough doses of medication for their condition, that’s all,” Dr. Greyson says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Zayne rubs his temples, trying to keep his composure. “There is nothing to worry about, Dr. Greyson. From their checkup earlier today, they seem to be in better condition compared to their first appointment,” Zayne replies.

You swirl your tongue around the mushroom tip of Zayne’s member, sucking on the head like a lolipop. Zayne grips your hair with one hand under the desk. You can’t tell if he’s signaling for you to stop or to continue, so you do what you think is best: continue sucking him off until he paints the inside of your mouth white. 

Zayne tightens his grip on your hair, pretending to adjust himself in his seat when in actuality, he’s shoving his cock further into your mouth, nearly causing you to choke. Zayne’s member hits the back of your throat, making you gag. Since Dr. Greyson is still in the room with you and Zayne, you try your best to hold it in. 

“So, how are things with you and Miss Hunter?” Dr. Greyson asks, organizing the papers before placing them in the patient file. 

Zayne clears his throat, trying to act normal while subconsciously thrusts his cock into your mouth. “Things are going well between her and me. In fact, we’re moving to the next stage in our relationship,” Zayne replies nonchalantly, quickly looking down at you. 

You and Zayne lock eyes for a moment. The apples of Zayne’s cheeks and his ears are pink, almost dark enough to be red. Dear goodness, you really hope that Zayne’s reaction isn’t going to give you both away. 

Dr. Greyson smiles, satisfied with Zayne’s answer. “That sounds amazing, Dr. Zayne! I wish you two nothing but the best in your relationship. [Y/N] seems to have this positive effect on you,” Dr. Greyson says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh? And why do you think that?” Zayne asks, trying to hide the shakiness in his response.

As you continue to suck Zayne’s member under the desk, you reach up and start fondling his balls while stroking and squeezing parts of Zayne’s shaft that you couldn’t reach with your mouth. You hear Dr. Greyson hum in response, trying to think of ways to respond to Zayne’s question.

“Well, you’re quite flustered whenever I mention her, so I’m taking that as a good sign. I’ve never seen you so flustered before, Dr. Zayne.” You can hear a slight teasing tone in Dr. Greyson’s response.

Your heart fills with joy and pride after hearing Dr. Greyson’s response, but you know the real reasons as to why Zayne is flustered. You’re certainly the reason why Zayne’s is blushing, but the real reason behind Zayne’s reaction is something Dr. Greyson will never know unless Zayne or you blow your cover. 

Zayne gives Dr. Greyson a tight-lipped smile before looking back at the monitor, hoping, praying that Dr. Greyson will leave his office soon before he fills your mouth with his cum. After what felt like forever, Dr. Greyson finally stands up and leaves his office after bidding the Cardiac Surgeon goodbye.

Once the office door clicks shut, Zayne’s hand flies to your head and pumps your head up and down on his painfully throbbing member. Zayne rests his head on the headrest of his office chair, chest heaving up and down with labored breaths, feeling his impending orgasm. 

You stare at Zayne, eyes formed in a crescent shape. If your mouth weren’t stuffed full with Zayne’s cock right now, you would’ve been giving him a shit-eating grin for getting such reaction out of the stoic doctor. You release Zayne’s cock from your mouth with a wet pop before continuing to lick stripes up Zayne’s throbbing dick, swiping your tongue over the flushed red tip. 

“Are you close, Dr. Zayne?” You murmur, kissing the underside of his cock.

Zayne swallows, running his hand through his hair. “What do you think, darling?” Zayne pants, now running his fingers through your hair. “I want to repay you for your hard work, but it seems like we don’t have much time.”

With the clock ticking, you’re determined to get Zayne to cum in your mouth before he’s back on the clock as a Cardiac Surgeon. You sheath Zayne’s cock into your mouth, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat. You ignore the urge to choke and gag, sucking and licking Zayne’s member with fervor. You made sure to lick every vein on his cock, sucking on the tip, while fondling his balls.

You’re so focused on completing your task of giving Zayne the best head he’s ever had that you completely missed out on Zayne’s reaction to his orgasm hitting him harder than a Wanderer. Zayne’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he hits the back of his head on the headrest and tightens his grip on your hair just as his orgasm arrives. Soon enough, Zayne coats the inside of your mouth white. Zayne goes limp in his chair, staring at you with bleary eyes. You release Zayne’s cock from your mouth, swallowing his cum.

You smile at Zayne, tilting your head to the side. “Same time tomorrow, Dr. Zayne?” You jokingly ask.

Oh, he will definitely repay you once his shift is over.

- Sylus: -

Sylus invited you over to his place to show you some decor he added to his bedroom, and needless to say, it’s definitely something. You stand in Sylus’s bedroom, hands propped on your hips as you stare at the giant mirror hanging above the headboard of his bed. The mirror has an elegant black frame, matching the room’s aesthetic.

“You invited me over to look at the mirror hanging above your bed?” You ask, turning to look at the Onychinus leader with your eyebrows raised. 

Without saying a word, Sylus grabs your hand and brings you closer to his bed. Once you two are standing next to his bed, Sylus tilts your head up to look at the ceiling. To your surprise, you see another mirror on the ceiling, your and Sylus’s reflection staring back at you. You slowly look at Sylus, squinting at him.

“What an interesting choice of decor, Sylus. But I shouldn’t be judging since this isn’t my room,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

At first, it didn’t click. You didn’t know why Sylus chose to hang mirrors above his bed and on the ceiling. You thought Sylus was experimenting with something because he’s rich and bored. However, when the time came, you now know why.

“Look at the mirror,” Sylus murmurs to your ears, grabbing you by the chin and tilting your head up to stare into the mirror above the headboard. 

You look in the mirror to see your disheveled self, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, while Sylus is having his way with you. When you lock eyes with Sylus in the mirror, he smirks, leans down and kisses your shoulder while plunging his cock into your convulsing cunt. 

You can’t help but pout, leaning on your elbows while Sylus continues to hammer his member into your dripping entrance. “I want to see your face, Sy,” you whimper, gasping when the tip of his cock hits the deepest part of you.

“Sweetie, you can look at my face in the mirror. That’s why I hung the mirror there,” Sylus replies, raising his hand and landing a crisp slap on your buttcheeks.

You jerk forward, whimpering in response. “Stop being a smart ass, Sylus. You know what I mean!” You whine, turning to look at Sylus over your shoulders.

Sylus stops thrusting into you, running his hand through his hair with a laugh. “Alright, kitten. As you wish,” he bows.

Sylus pulls his cock out from your cunt and wraps his arms around your waist, flipping you over to lay on your back. You rub your eyes when dizziness hits you for a brief moment. Sylus peers over you, his arms caging you against his bed.

Sylus brushes your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ears. “You’re really cute when you’re needy,” he teases, kissing your forehead before lining his cock in front of your entrance.

You wrap your legs around his waist, waiting for Sylus to plunge his cock into your cunt. Sylus slowly buries his cock into you, earning a gasp and moan from you. Sylus closes his eyes in ecstasy, leaning on his arms as he continues to sheath his cock further into your hot entrance. Sylus reaches for your hand, grabs your hand with his much larger one, and laces your fingers with his. 

Once he’s balls deep inside you, Sylus gives you a minute or two to adjust to the thickness of his cock. Not only was he incredibly thick, but he’s also long enough to reach your cervix effortlessly while not fully sheathed inside your dripping entrance. Sylus kisses your lips before proceeding to thrust in and out of your cunt, groaning at the feeling of your gummy walls snugly wrapped around his pulsating cock. 

You tighten your grip around Sylus’s hands, whimpering when the red tip of his cock hits your cervix repeatedly. You dig your heels into his asscheeks, pulling him closer to you. Sylus’s thrust stutters for a moment before he lies on top of you, but makes sure not to crush you under his weight.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror that’s hanging above the bed. You watch the way Sylus’s back muscles flex, how his ass would clench every time he’s pistoning his member in and out of your squelching cunt with no remorse. The sight of Sylus pummeling into your entrance makes you even wetter. You close your eyes and continue to let Sylus have his way with you while you cling to him for dear life as he buries his cock deep inside you.

Every time he thrusts into you, he makes sure to remain still for five seconds before pulling out and repeating. Sylus slowly pulls the rest of his cock out from your insides, but keeps the tip of his cock nestled inside your throbbing pussy. You peek at Sylus, wondering what he’s doing. Before you can ask him, Sylus slams his cock back into your sopping cunt. You cry out in pleasure, your pussy tightens around Sylus’s cock.

“Sylus~!” You whine, legs trembling around his slim waist. “I don’t know how much longer I can last,” you whimper, feeling a familiar knot forming in your lower abdomen.

Sylus kisses your temples, thrusting into your entrance, relishing in the feeling of your sweltering hole. God, if Sylus can live in your cunt for the rest of his life, he would do it with no hesitation. To be loved is to be buried deep in your pussy, painting the gummy walls white with his cum. Sylus pauses for a moment and looks at where you two are connected. Your glistening cunt, almost visibly pulsating around his cock.

You whine, grinding against Sylus’s cock. “Why’d you stop?” You complain, glaring up at him with bleary eyes.

Sylus laughs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but be mesmerized by you and your pretty pussy,” Sylus replies, slowly moving his hand to your cunt, his thumb finding your puffy clit. “She’s calling to me, begging me to fill her up.”

You cover your face, feeling heat rushing to your cheeks. Yes, Sylus is balls deep inside you, but you can’t help but feel shy whenever he’s narrating what you desire. Sylus snickers, leaning down and pressing his chest against yours. While Sylus is ravaging your insides with his thick cock, he’s pinching and rubbing your swollen clit. 

You clench your jaws, the knot in your lower abdomen becoming incredibly tighter the more Sylus continues to rail you while stimulating your engorged bundle of nerves. The bed creaks and groans under you and Sylus, the headboard hitting the walls, syncing with Sylus’s thrusts. 

Just as you’re about to reach your orgasm, Sylus flips the both of you over and you’re now straddling his waist with his cock nestled deep inside you. You plant both hands on Sylus’s chest, staring down at him, chest rapidly rising and falling with each breath you take. 

“Ride me, sweetie. Show me what you got,” Sylus says, slapping both your ass cheeks.

You puff your cheeks. “Sylus! I was so close to cumming,” you squeeze his pecks. “But fine, I’ll show you what I’m capable of,” you grumble.

You plant your knees on both sides of Sylus’s waist, lean forward and began bouncing on his cock with fervor. You bite down on your lips, eyebrows furrowing as you focus on riding Sylus’s girthy member. Sylus rests his head on his pillow, staring up at you as you ride him. While Sylus is usually the one who takes control in the bedroom (and outside the bedroom), he loves it when you take control and control him.

You grind your puffy clit against Sylus’s pubic bone, your body shuddering from the pleasure. Sylus wraps one arm around your waist, guiding you on his cock. His mouth is agape, soft grunts escaping from his lips as he gazes at you, eyes glazed over. 

“I don’t think I can last any longer, kitten,” Sylus murmurs, breathing heavily and thrusting up into you hard.

You yelp and grip on the pillow behind him, your pussy quivering around his cock. Your arms become jelly, making you collapse on Sylus while still trying your best to chase your and Sylus’s orgasms. The knot in your lower abdomen snaps, and you tense in Sylus’s arms, your vision turning white, and stars dot your vision. Sylus grunts beneath you and fills your gummy walls with his pearly white cum, slowly pumping in and out of you, filling you to the brim. 

Note: To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the smut. This took me a while to type out because I always procrastinate whenever I write smuts. I think it's an okay-ish smut since I'm usually never confident in the smuts I write. I want to write for Love&Deepspace since I do play it more than I do with Hoyoverse games at the moment. Hopefully, I get more ideas and post more for Love&Deepspace. If you're interested in joining my Discord server, the invite to my Discord server can be found [HERE]! The Discord server invite links will be different every time I post a new fanfic, and these links have expiration dates. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^