#the sincerely soft tone

[ryllen]

Hear my plight,

I miss the old ENG voice of Zayne so much

Listen to him laughing 3 times wholeheartedly ... ; - ;

[screampied]

✩ㅤ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, vırgin nanami, cowgirl, praise, size kink, premature ejac, mdni.

virgin nanami loses it once you tell him to ditch the condom.

“sweetheart, i—” he’d swallow, choking up on his words once cool air settles against his skin. he swallows, chewing on his bottom lip once he feels a brand new feeling. the rubbery latex wasn’t blocking him anymore, and he groans once his swollen tip smears up against your entrance. soaked, he grows quiet once he looks down to see your dripping pussy hovering over his reddened frenulum that’s tearing up with glossed pre-cum. “god, ‘s warm,” the blond sucks in a single quickened breath as a curling pout twists against his lips. “a- are you sure?”

“ ‘m sure, baby,” you whisper up against the hot shell of his ear. he’s so warm, his entire body arouse with temperature all because of the sweet sound of your voice. the center of your palm rubs against his cheek and he leans into your touch. metaphoric heart eyes form in his eyes as they dilate, his own thumping heart beating out of his chest. “ ‘s okay, inside.”

“f- fuck,” nanami’s head gradually tosses itself back, and with quick alignment, he’s back inside. he kisses his teeth once he feels the real thing, your silvery walls massaging around him. the glossy sweat that pours onto his skin shines against his body glimmers brightly. he groans, letting off a soft whine once he feels the brief tightness grow snug. “you’re gonna make me—”

and within seconds, he’s cumming, hard. nanami barely even last a second after you take off the rubber, and he’s an entire mess. with a firm grasp, he’s reanimating your hips with his hands as you slowly jerk and move. “please,” he gently pierces his teeth into your neck, shivering breath ghosting against your skin. “don’t stop, s- show me how to feel good, please.”

his words were like a broken rough whisper — you pause, staring into his eyes and he’s sincere.

nanami’s heavily panting, beads of sweat racing down each sides of his forehead. fawn kind eyes bore into yours before he glances down at your sprawled out legs. “so pretty,” he hiccups, and even his touch was delicate. he was always gentle, he didn’t want to hurt you. a few thick padded fingers drag and scurry down your hips before his lip quivers. “i- i want you, i want more.”

“so have me then,” you coo against his ear, the tone of your voice more teasing than anything. as your hips start to salaciously rock into him again, you grab onto both of his wrists, trying to guide him. “there we go, ‘ken,” you whisper, and you can hear a bundle of wanton whimpers leave from his lips—never has he had a feeling like this, ever. he was so weak from your touch, your body heat, your taste. as your fingers tenderly brush against his, you make him cling onto your rickety waist. “hold me, like this.”

nanami groans, and he’s still sensitive, very. he just came, ribbons of balmy hot seed shoots deep into you and it’s warm. it makes both of his ears ring and he only wants more, more, more.

“okay,” he replies in a husky voice, and you can see blond shaggy strands of hair glue across his forehead. “o- okay,” he repeats, his tone dropping a bit lower. the bed mercilessly creaks as your rocking accelerates, his bulbous tip jabbing around every part of your cunt. once you show him how to touch you, he just can’t keep his hands off of you. “i dreamt about this for so long, sweetheart,” and he watches your pretty lips contort into an amused simper. “s- sorry, is that too dirty?”

“it’s fine baby,” you plant a kiss near the inside of his neck. a long breath gets caught in his throat. he’s about to say something else but he pauses, pouting deeply. cute, he’s embarrassed. nanami’s cock continues to rummage through your doughy insides, so much pressure that you feel it everywhere. your sappy folds squelch within each solid thrust before your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. “you dream about me?”

“sometimes, yeah,” he huffs, and the irregular unkempt thrusts slowly transform into pure blissful sync. nanami looks so pretty, he’s losing the more you bounce on his cock. so good, his jaw tightens and he’s feeling every vein in his body prod. you were starting to grow dumb as each second past and your moans only grew louder right with him. nanami’s head buries itself into your neck before he lefts off a frustrated whine. “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty,” and his voice cracks at the end. you feel the tip of his tongue swirl around near your collarbone and you gasp. “god, you’re even prettier inside t- too.”

“yeah?” you whisper, creating a trail of sloppy kisses down the slip of his exposed neck. he’s moaning more at your touch. you feel his beefy thigh start to bounce before his palm squeezes against your bare ass. “you gonna cum for me again, kento? ‘s okay, be a good boy ‘n make a mess for me.”

a sheepish smile stretches against his lips, though instead of sheepish smile—it’s more of a pussy drunk one.

as you stare at him, his dimples poke against both sides of his cheeks and he’s getting lost into the way your hips twirl around him. “your good boy, mhm. all yours, ‘m gonna cum a- again,” and his voice lowers significantly. your clit’s profusely getting thwacked and mashed up against his fattened tip and it’s so appetizing. with nanami’s soft mousy eyes flicking backward until it’s nothing but pure white in his sockets, he gives your ass a soft spank. “k- keep riding me like that ‘n i’m gonna fall in love.”

and it’s right as he said that — he came again.

this time it’s a lot more. it’s thicker and languidly, you feel it spew out in velvety strips. his entire base was flaccid and he’s just idle inside of you. nanami’s whimpering underneath you as his legs finally collapse. you watch him fall back against the cushioned pillows and he’s so flustered. “mhh,” he grouses as multiple jittery pants leave from his lips. nanami wraps strong burly arms around you, holding you close. “stay,” he rasps, still hearing the sloshes of his dribbling cum trickle in and out of you. he’s shivering, his teeth shattering and he’s never felt more sensitive. he’s definitely in love.

“okay,” you nod, feeling him hide his head into the crook of your neck again. he’s so clingy—but you didn’t mind, and his warm breath tickles against your skin. you get a brief scent of his rich cologne scent that drives forevermore drove you weak. sitting up to press a chaste kiss against his twitching ruby lips, you whisper shakily. “good boy.”

and nanami’s eyes were so half lidded, your praises—he couldn’t get enough of them. seconds later and he’s still pouring into you deep, painting your gummy walls with his pristine-white color. with droopy eyes and flapping long lashes taking in your beauty, nanami whines. “more, don’t stop fucking me,” and you let off a gasp once he suddenly lifts you off his lap, lying you flat on your back. you land with a soft ‘oof’ before he spreads your legs, gazing at the satiny masses of cum that race down the crevices of your thighs.

“please,” and you moan once he drags his tongue up your legs, stopping towards your puffy clit. “teach me h- how to eat this,” and his eyes rove towards your slobbering cunt. you feel butterflies build up in your tummy before nanami’s quite literally drooling right before you. not only was he probably in love, he was also hungry.

“please mistress.”

[kaiist]

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

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The protective edge in his voice takes you by surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Based on this request.

[lvrsfilm]

Lieutenant Simon Riley has a favorite nurse. She's sweet as sugar and polite, stitching up every bloodied soldier with gentle words and touches so light they barely feel the push and pull of the suturing. Appreciative, whether they return the soft conversation or not. He likes the way she floats around the medical wing, the way she smiles softly at everyone, even him. He's sure she knows what he's been doing, but she isn't stopping him, so he assumes she doesn't mind.

Every morning, without fail she gets up and comes into the wing in a different colored pair of scrubs. A new color every day, never the same one twice in a week. She sits at the front desk or at another station somewhere around and sips a can of ginger ale through a straw, pretending she doesn't see Simon's eyes on her while she works.

"Wha's it t'day?" Simon says gruffly as he approaches her, bypassing the other nurses almost completely. "Blackberry," She says softly, looking up at him and displaying the can. He takes a look at her scrubs, and of course, they're a dark purple, matching the can. It suits her, he thinks. Not an obnoxious shade, one that matches her skin tone well. "Good?" He asks her, like he always does. "Not my favorite,' she says as she sets the can back down. He hums lowly in reply as his eyes linger on the fabric of her scrubs, the way the cloth dips over her soft curves.

"You hurt?" She asks him cheekily, "Or just taken an interest in the medical field?" He grunts, pulling his eyes away from her scrubs and meeting her own. "Nae," He says lowly. "Just passing by," he adds, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. Or reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in her clothing, or tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

He doesn't know what else to say, wanting to keep her attention on him. "Suits ya," He ends up saying softly, trying to sound as gruff as possible, but his eyes are trained on hers, his hazel eyes staring into her own irises. "The purple." He grumbles, cursing inwardly because why is he acting like he's never spoken to a pretty bird before?

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She says sweetly, a nice red tinting the apples of her cheeks. Simon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say next. Small talk hasn't ever been his strong suit, but walking away feels wrong, like cutting a thread that’s barely started to weave.

"You sure you're alright?" she asks again, but this time there's something softer in her voice. A note of genuine curiosity, her hands stilling on her keyboard. "You don’t usually linger this long."

He scowls—not at her, but at himself for being so obvious. "Dinnae know I was bein’ timed," he mutters, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

She chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You’re not. Just... noticed, is all." Her gaze flicks over him, quick and subtle, like she’s trying to piece him together without openly prying. She's familiar with Simon, knows how private he is. "Busy morning?"

He shrugs. "Same as usual. Training, Paperwork."

Her lips quirk upward in a faint smile, but there’s a shadow of worry behind her eyes. "Sounds like you could use a break."

"Aye," he says gruffly, a hand leaving his pocket to scratch at the base of his balaclava. "Reckon this is it."

Her smile softens at that, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. There’s a weight in the air, something unspoken that presses against his chest, and hers. He wants to say more, to keep her talking, but the words are tangled up in his throat.

"Y’know," she says after a pause, "I think purple might actually suit you too."

His brows furrow softly, squinting at her a bit behind the mask, and for a split second, he wonders if she’s teasing him. But her expression is sincere, her eyes glinting with a quiet kind of amusement.

"Me?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "Don’t reckon that’s in regulation."

She shrugs lightly, leaning against the desk. "Wouldn’t hurt to try. Maybe a mask or something. Just a little color." There’s a playful glint in her eyes now, and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

"Don’t think I’d pull it off," he mutters, though there’s a faint warmth creeping up his neck, hidden by the black fabric.

"I disagree," she says softly, and the weight of her gaze feels heavier than before. He looks at her then, really looks, and finds himself rooted to the spot.

"You always this cheeky with the patients?" he grumbles, trying to mask the fact that she’s gotten under his skin.

"Only the ones who hover around the nurses' station without a good excuse," she quips, her smile widening just a fraction. "But I don’t mind. You’re welcome anytime, Lieutenant."

His heart gives a traitorous thump at her words, but he swallows it down and grunts in reply. "I’ll hold ya to that," he says, his voice rougher than he intends.

As he turns to leave, her voice calls him back again, soft and lilting. "Oh, and Simon?"

He stops dead in his tracks. She’s never used his name before. Slowly, he turns his head to glance at her, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.

"Next time," she says, lifting her can of ginger ale in a mock toast, "you could at least bring one of these to share."

His lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. "Aye," he murmurs, his voice low. "I’ll see what I can do."

And as he walks out of the wing, he finds himself already wondering what color she’ll be wearing tomorrow.

[navybrat817]

Just to See You Smile

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your emotions get the better of you at work, and someone just wants you to smile again.

Word Count: Over 1.1k

Warnings: Crying, bit of low self-esteem, fluff, sweetness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not in a great headspace at work (and won't be for the rest of the week), so I wrote this small thing. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It wasn't professional to cry at work. Letting your emotions get the better of you was something to do off the clock. You could usually grin and bear it on the bad days but today was more difficult than usual and you could explain why. Everything just felt heavy, like the weight of the world was pushing you into the ground until it buried you. Until you couldn't breathe. And you didn't make it to the bathroom in time before the tears came. 

At least no one saw you. 

Grabbing a tissue to wipe your face after a few minutes, you studied yourself in the mirror. While you didn't have a full breakdown, it would've been obvious to anyone looking at you that you cried thanks to your puffy eyes. Maybe if you kept your head down and buried yourself in your work for a bit no one would notice. It wasn't like anyone noticed you anyway. No one really talked to you outside of needing help with an issue. 

A reliable teammate, and nothing more. 

With a deep breath, you walked out of the bathroom and told yourself not to cry again until you got home. But you were so busy keeping your head down that you ran straight into a wall. Well, not a wall, but you did hit something solid. Firm. Warm. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” The soft baritone sent tingles down your spine. So did the gentle grip on your arms. “Are you okay?” 

Lifting your gaze, you gasped and stared into a pair of startling blue eyes. Your cheeks warmed under the intense focus. Jesus, you walked right into Bucky Barnes. Crying in the bathroom was bad enough, you had to crash right into a super soldier who smelled like heaven and looked like a god?

“I think so,” you answered, your eyes wide when he stepped back to assess you. For a moment, you pretended he was looking at you and holding you as if you mattered. “Really, I’m fine. It was my fault for running into you, so I’m sorry.”

Your heart nearly ceased to beat when he gave you a small smile. Did he realize how it lit up the blue of his eyes? He didn't smile much when he roamed the halls, but he spared a smile for you. “You’re more than welcome to bump into me.” 

“I… Really?” you asked, your cheeks hot all over again. Bucky knew your name, had repeated it back to you when he introduced himself to you, but he kept to himself when he wasn't on missions. Surely, he didn't want you bumping into him. He was just teasing, being nice. 

But what if he wasn't just being nice?

So many thoughts raced through your mind when his thumbs grazed your skin. “Yeah, really.” 

“Oh.” You giggled, a small sound, and it was nice to think that he was flirting with you.

That feeling didn't last long when his eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asked, sweeping his gaze along your face. Had he figured out that you wept not too long ago? “You can tell me if you aren't.”

Your heart turned over at the sincerity in his tone. He wasn't asking just to ask, and it meant more than he knew that he wanted to know. But when you opened your mouth, ready to tell him that it was a rough day, you shut it just as quickly. He didn't need to hear about that. He had more important things to deal with than someone forgettable like you. 

After all, he was a hero and you were… well, you. 

“I just…” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Just what?”

You realized you were holding your breath with him so close and finally exhaled. “I just need to get back to work, Sergeant Barnes. That’s all.” You tried to smile at him, but he could likely see the strain behind it. Though you considered yourself invisible to many, he was too observant not to notice.

He stepped further away and let his hands fall to his sides. While he didn't look convinced by your answer, he respectfully didn't push it. “Call me Bucky,” he whispered.

“Bucky,” you whispered, tasting his name on your tongue.

“And I’m around if you ever want to talk. I don't mind,” he offered, gently brushing past you and making you shiver all over again. 

“Thanks,” you managed to say, turning to gaze after him. You may have checked him out, too, because you couldn't help yourself. Not when he wore those tactical pants so well. “Really, Bucky. Thank you. It means a lot,” you called after him. 

He didn't have to ask how you were doing or offer you anything, but he did. 

He stopped to give you another smile over his shoulder. “You're welcome,” he said. Your knees nearly gave out, but you smiled back before he walked around the corner. 

“What a man…” you whispered, fanning yourself and briefly forgetting that you were at work and that you had a job to do. 

As you straightened up and headed back to your desk, you spotted something that wasn't there before- a candy bar. Your favorite candy bar in fact. Intrigue filled you when you saw the note beside it, but you didn't recognize the handwriting. 

“Something sweet to put your sweet smile back on your face.”

You warmly smiled and hugged the candy bar and note to your chest. All this time you thought you were invisible, but someone cared and paid attention enough to leave a treat for you. The small gesture made a world of difference in your day, like Bucky offering you kindness. You selfishly wanted him to be the one who left the candy bar, too. 

A girl could dream. 

What you didn't realize was that Bucky was right around the corner, his heart racing and smiling to himself as you enjoyed your treat. You tried to blend in with your surroundings, but you stuck out to him in the most wonderful way. You had from the start. 

What you also didn't know was that he spotted your tears when you left your desk minutes ago, nor did you know that he rushed to get your favorite candy bar from the vending machine nearby while you were gone. He wasn't sure what upset you, but the sight of your tears broke his heart. He wished he would've had time to get flowers, but he hoped the small pick me up helped you feel a bit better. 

And maybe tomorrow if luck was on his side he could talk to you, treat you to lunch, and keep that sweet smile on your face. 

Look, I love the idea of Bucky leaving all sorts of treats and trinkets for you because he's awesome like that. Also, please be kind to yourself. You lovelies deserve good things. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[chloeangelbaby]

You don’t love me

Crybaby! Reader x Rafe Cameron

———————————˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊————————————

It had been weeks of the same routine. Rafe was up early, gone all day, and by the time he got home, he was too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed. You understood at first—Rafe worked hard, and running a company wasn’t easy. But as the days turned into weeks, his absence began to gnaw at you.

Tonight, you’d reached your limit.

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, when the craving hit. You wanted ice cream, something sweet and cold to take your mind off the void of Rafe’s company. You peeked into the kitchen but found nothing that would satisfy you.

“Rafe?” you called, walking into the bedroom where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yeah?” His voice was tired, his eyes barely lifting to meet yours.

“I wanna go for a drive. We can stop and get ice cream or something,” you said, your tone hopeful.

Rafe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Baby, I can’t tonight. I’m dead on my feet. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

The casual dismissal stung. “No, it can’t wait,” you snapped, your voice rising. “You’ve been saying that all week! Tomorrow, tomorrow—what about me, Rafe?”

“I’m doing this for us,” he said, his tone defensive. “I’m not saying no because I want to. I’m exhausted, okay?”

You stared at him, your emotions bubbling over. Before you knew it, you were crying, your chest heaving with sobs. “You don’t care! You don’t care about me anymore!”

Rafe frowned, standing up. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“Fair?” you spat, your voice cracking as you stomped your foot. “What’s not fair is you ignoring me all the time! All I wanted was a stupid drive, and you can’t even give me that!”

“Dolly—”

“Don’t call me that!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face. Your words tumbled out in a jumble, barely making sense. “You don’t listen to me! You don’t care! You just… you just—”

You weakly shoved at his chest, your small fists thumping against him as you hiccupped and choked on your sobs. Rafe stood there, letting you vent, his hands hovering as if unsure whether to grab you or give you space.

“You’re mean! And, and… I hate you!” you wailed, though you didn’t mean it.

Finally, Rafe had enough. “Alright,” he said, his voice firm. He grabbed your wrists gently but firmly, holding them still. “That’s enough, baby. Stop.”

But you didn’t stop. “You don’t love me!” you blubbered, your head dropping forward as you sobbed uncontrollably.

Rafe sighed, pulling you into his chest despite your protests. “I love you more than anything,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “But you’ve got to calm down, okay? You’re working yourself up too much.”

“I-I can’t!” you hiccupped, your body shaking in his hold.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Breathe, Dolly. Come on, with me. In and out.”

You tried, but the sobs kept breaking through, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. Rafe scooped you up and carried you to the bed, sitting down with you in his lap. He started rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just… I just wanted…” you sniffled, unable to finish your sentence.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know, baby. I’ve been a terrible boyfriend lately, haven’t I?”

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of genuine regret. “You’re right—I haven’t been around enough. I’ll fix it, okay? Starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” you mumbled, your voice small and wobbly.

“Promise,” he said, lifting your chin so you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “And tonight, I’ll make it up to you. We’ll stay up and watch whatever you want, or I’ll run out and get ice cream. Anything you need, baby.”

You sniffled, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Just want you…”

“You’ve got me,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

Your sobs began to subside, your breathing evening out as Rafe continued to hold you close. You clung to him, your face buried in his neck, finally feeling the comfort you’d been craving.

“Love you,” you whispered.

“Love you more, Dolly,” he murmured, his voice a soft promise against your hair.

———————————˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊————————————-

[norristrii]

MCLAREN SWEETHEARTS.

Your and Lando's relationship has everything everyone wants; Moments of you two in the new Drive To Survive season.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader.

warnings. est. relationship, slightly suggestive? Again, this is made up and doesn’t relate to the actual season!

[episode one]

Lando sprinted through the paddock, his race suit slipping dangerously low on his hips as he rushed to the garage, clearly running late. Meanwhile, you strolled leisurely behind, holding all his forgotten essentials—his phone, watch, and whatever else he’d managed to leave behind. There was no point in trying to keep up with his frantic pace.

The cameras caught the moment he stopped abruptly, patting his pockets in a panic. “Fuck, where is my phone?” he muttered, spinning around in confusion.

From a distance, you raised your voice, a hint of amusement in your tone. “I have it!” you called out, holding it up for him to see. His sheepish grin when he spotted you said it all.

“Thank god I have you,” Lando murmured, his voice warm with gratitude. Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, a fleeting yet heartfelt gesture that said more than words ever could.

The Netflix editors cut to Carlos as he passed by, saying, “You would lose your own head if you didn't have her.”

[episode two]

Sitting in the McLaren hospitality with Lando's mum, the two of you chatted, stealing occasional glances out the window where Lando was busy giving an interview. He couldn’t help but look over at you both, flashing smiles and waving, his affection clearly shining through.

“Lando, please focus,” the interviewer gently reminded him, attempting to reel him back into the conversation.

“Yeah, sorry,” Lando apologized, shaking his head with a sheepish smile. Then, his expression softened as he gestured toward the window. “The most important women in my life,” he said warmly, pointing at you and his mum, leaving everyone charmed by his sincerity.

The interview clip went viral, fans saying, “Relationship goals.”

[episode three]

It was a relaxed afternoon in McLaren’s motorhome when you managed to—let’s say convince—Lando to try out a TikTok trend with you. The room was filled with laughter as he fumbled through the moves, his determination evident but not exactly successful.

“Lando! Can you do it finally right?!” you called out between bursts of laughter, tears of amusement almost streaming down your face.

“I’m trying, babe! I’m trying!” he replied, his voice desperate yet playful, only making the moment even more hilarious. The lighthearted chaos perfectly captured your bond and the fun you shared, no matter how ridiculous the task at hand.

“You dance like a maniac at parties but can’t handle this?” you teased, your laughter bubbling up again.

“I only dance when I’m drunk!” he shot back, his tone defensive but playful, making the whole situation even funnier.

The editors cut to Oscar laughing at Lando and Zak shaking his head in disbelief.

[episode four]

“Why is under every video an edit of you?!” you asked with a playful smile as you rolled your eyes, holding up your phone to show him the edit of him on your For You page.

Lando glanced at the video, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “You didn’t mind having me under you last night,” he quipped, his voice low and teasing.

Your eyes widened instantly, darting between the nearby cameras and him, caught completely off guard by his boldness. The amused look on his face only made it harder to keep your composure.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were part of some bizarre social experiment, but reality was far simpler—and far more ridiculous. Lando stood there, grinning like an absolute idiot, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d just caused.

Let’s just say, his PR manager worked overtime after this part dropped.

[episode five]

Lando stood before the mirror, his curls rebelliously framing his face no matter how much he tried to tame them. Frustrated, he let out a growl. “Fuck this shit. They do what they want,” he sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Come here,” you said with a knowing smile, pulling out powder and spray from your bag. With gentle hands, you worked on his hair, smoothing the chaos into something effortlessly charming.

When you were done, he looked at you with a grateful smile. “Thank you, babe,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “You’re my savior.”

The camera captured the moment, his eyes sparkling with quiet admiration as he watched you carefully fix his unruly curls.

[episode six]

Lando crossed the finish line first, securing his first Grand Prix victory. His happiness was uncontainable as he celebrated in the car, his voice alive with joy. Through the radio, he eagerly asked his engineer, “Is Y/n there? I need to talk to her.”

Moments later, your voice came through the earpods under his helmet, full of pride and emotion. “Lan, it’s Y/n here—you did it!!” you exclaimed.

A wide grin spread beneath his helmet as he shouted back, “Y/n, love, we did it!! I love you so much!” His words carried all the excitement and love he felt, making the victory even more unforgettable as he shared it with you.

The radio went viral, all the comments pointing out, “The way she’s the one he needs talk to. God, I want what they have.”

[episode seven]

McLaren had finally done it—the Constructors' Championship was theirs after an incredible 26-year wait. The entire team was overjoyed, the atmosphere electric with celebration.

You were casually chatting with Alex when Lando, buzzing with excitement, ran straight up to you. Without a word, he met your eyes, grinning mischievously, before effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder.

"Lan—what are you doing?!" you exclaimed, utterly baffled as he carried you through the paddock at full speed.

Before you knew it, you were in front of the jubilant McLaren team. Lando gently put you down, but before you could even process what was happening, the champagne started flying. Laughter and cheers surrounded you as everyone sprayed one another, Lando making it a point to douse you especially. You tried to shield yourself, but there was no escape, and soon you were drenched and sticky, unable to stop laughing at the chaos around you. It was pure, unfiltered joy.

Later on, McLaren and F1 posted the photos of you celebrating together with the team.

[episode eight; bonus]

During an interview for Netflix, Zak was asked, “Y/n is really often at the garage or motorhome since she started dating Lando. What do you think of their relationship?”—a slightly odd question, but Zak handled it with ease.

“Y/n is just a great person,” Zak said, smiling warmly. “I think she’s exactly the one Lando really needs by his side. Everyone loves them; they’re our sweethearts.”

The interviewer followed up, “Would you say Y/n is part of the team?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Zak replied confidently. “She’s part of our papaya family.” His words carried a genuine affection, showing just how much you had become a cherished part of the McLaren circle.

You saw that clip all over social media. It was nice to know they take you like part of the family. By dating McLaren’s golden boy, you became McLaren’s golden girl.

I HIGHLY recommend to check out @haniette <3 Her works are just perfection 🤌🏻

[cloudedcreams]

thinking of a yandere! who used to be your old crush.

you never noticed it. far too smitten with the small interactions that he'd give you, the way that his lips would quirk up into a smile upon seeing you, the little sparkle in his eyes he'd give you when you asked him for a pencil. something about the softness of his voice entranced you, the way he blended into the background and yet spoke to you with so much ease... it was comforting in a way. to be the one able see the leak of sincerity in his tone.

he adored it. the feeling you gave him, knowing that you were out there obsessing over him. you only saw the quiet nice guy that he presented himself as, you didn't see the total loser who'd pant your name in his bed, screaming out for you as his toes curled at the thought of your earlier interactions.

but there was another girl. sofia. with cheeks rosy and painted with red, freckles kissing her face, and a smile so lovely that told you that you couldn't compete.

she understood why you were so charmed with him, and it was never in your nature to compete. you were all to happy to be the hand that nudged her towards him, that encouraged her advances, but you were also the one who's heart ached in jealousy.

and so you told yourself to move on.

the tiny moments that you used to seek with him, the daily interactions you'd work towards achieving with each day halted. you fixated on other things, and drowned in your school work, anything to take your mind away from him. he wouldn't notice. he'd love her, and to you he'd blend into the shadows like a celebrity long forgotten.

and you were able to.

you were so enamoured with the feeling of freedom that grasped you once you'd abandoned your obsession that you were too naive to pick up on the little things that would have sent you crazy in the past.

the way his eyebrows would furrow once you didn't linger your hand on his a moment more than needed. the stare he'd drill into the back of his head as he wondered, why weren't you looking back?

most of all, you failed to acknowledge the betrayal that he felt.

sofia stopped attending school. so did he. and there was a moment of peace, were your friends wouldn't give you teasing nudges each time you walked past him, and you wouldn't need to endure the facade of friendship that the two of you held. you had no problems with her, yet she stood as a painful reminder, one that disappeared without a trace.

to this day you still don't understand how. the way that she was able to vanish, the mystery behind her departure. that faithful night that she had walked away from her house without looking back had spread through the news, with no leads and no more than a cold case.

he came into school a few weeks later, his body thinner with a sleeves that hugged his arms.

and once again, you were in the dark.

about the involvement he held in her disappearance, the intricate carvings of your name on his wrist that he kissed each night before bed. he was a total freak, with pictures he'd taken of you covering a corner of his room, paired with offerings of crystals and ribbons that he tied into a bow to look nice.

[jaysng]

post arguement — park sunghoon

pairing: bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst (resolved), fluff

synopsis: waking up the next day after an argument, sunghoon is a little shy to ask you to follow up your daily routine together.

• help palestine, click me

sunghoon had always been the quiet type, never one to express too much, but last night’s argument was different.

it left an uncomfortable tension lingering between you two, something neither of you were used to. you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find peace, the memory of harsh words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

the morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. you had barely slept, your mind restless with unresolved thoughts.

you felt a soft nudge on your arm, and as you blinked your eyes open, there was sunghoon, standing beside the bed, his expression unreadable, a mix of uncertainty and something else you couldn’t quite place.

he hesitated for a moment, as if he was trying to find the right words. “can you… do that thing?” he finally mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze flickering away from yours.

it was unlike him to ask for anything, especially after a fight, but you knew what he meant. every morning, without fail, you’d apply his skincare for him, a small act that had somehow become your routine.

you let out a sleepy groan, turning away from him and pulling the covers over your head. “not today, hoon,” you murmured, your voice muffled, teasing him just a little, but deep down, you knew you couldn’t actually refuse him.

he stood there for a moment, the silence stretching out between you two.

“please?” he added, a little softer this time, a rare vulnerability in his voice that made your heart soften. it wasn’t like him to ask twice.

you sighed softly, sitting up and pushing the covers off. “fine,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully as you climbed out of bed.

“but only because you said please.” despite the remnants of last night’s argument hanging in the air, you didn’t have it in you to say no to him. maybe this was his way of making peace, in the only way he knew how.

“thanks,” he mumbled, almost too quiet to hear, but you caught the sincerity in his voice.

you slipped out of bed, your feet padding softly on the cold floor as you headed to the small vanity where you kept the skincare products.

sunghoon followed you, his steps equally soft, almost as if he was afraid to break the fragile silence that had settled between you two.

“you know, you could’ve just done it yourself today,” you teased lightly, grabbing the moisturizer and turning to face him.

he shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“it’s not the same,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on the floor. it was rare for him to be this open, and it made you pause for a second.

you motioned for him to sit properly, and he complied, scooting back a bit so he was closer to you.

you took a deep breath, your hands working automatically as you unscrewed the cap of his moisturizer. the familiar scent filled the space between you, and for a moment, it felt like everything was back to normal.

“you’re such a baby, you know that?” you said, your tone playful as you smoothed the cream onto your fingers.

“only for you,” he replied, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

you gently applied the moisturizer to his face, your touch soft and careful, as if you were trying to erase the harshness of the previous night with every gentle swipe.

sunghoon’s eyes closed, his face relaxing under your touch, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away.

neither of you spoke, the silence was heavy but not uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, the kind that said everything you both were too afraid to put into words.

you finished with the moisturizer, your fingers lingering on his skin for a moment longer before you pulled away.

but instead of standing back up, you suddenly decided to straddle his lap, settling yourself comfortably as you faced him. his eyes flew open, a hint of surprise in them as you smiled down at him, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“what are you doing?” he asked, his voice a little shaky, clearly flustered by your sudden proximity.

“just making sure you’re not going anywhere,” you teased, leaning in to smooth out the moisturizer on his forehead.

you could feel the warmth of his body beneath you, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers grazed his skin.

sunghoon was trying hard to keep his composure, but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck, spreading to his cheeks.

“you’re really… close,” he mumbled, his hands hesitantly finding their way to your waist, unsure of where to put them.

“is that a problem?” you asked, your tone teasing as you finished up with his skincare, your hands lingering on his cheeks for a moment longer.

he shook his head, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for just a second before they darted away again. “no… it’s just… different,” he admitted, his voice barely audible, but you caught the shy smile playing on his lips.

you leaned in closer, your face just inches from his, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “different can be good, you know.”

he didn’t respond, but you could see the way his eyes softened, the way his hands tightened slightly around your waist, holding you just a little closer.

“about last night…” he started, his voice hesitant, his gaze flickering to the side, avoiding yours. “i’m… i didn’t mean to make you upset.”

you felt a small smile tug at your lips, his awkwardness endearing. “i know,” you replied softly, reaching out to take his hand, squeezing it gently.

“i’m sorry too, i shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

he finally looked back at you, a hint of relief in his eyes.

“we’re okay, right?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost as if he was afraid of your answer.

“yeah, we’re okay,” you reassured him, giving his hand another squeeze. “just… try not to be such a grump next time, okay?”

he huffed out a small laugh, the tension finally breaking.

“i’ll try,” he promised, a shy smile playing on his lips.

for a moment, you just sat there, side by side, the morning light wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

and though the argument wasn’t entirely forgotten, the weight of it had lessened, replaced by the quiet understanding that you’d work through it together, just like you always did.

• REBLOG if you enjoyed, do not copy or repost.

[tbaluver]

Hi ree 🤭

Can I request y/n flinching during an argument when the boys make a sudden movement. Give it a happy ending pls.

I'm craving some angst with fluff on the side.

Has to be served by u tho 😭🌹

Flinching During An Argument- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: slight angst with some fluff/ comfort ! a/n: HIHI TEE !! ily (∩˃o˂��)♡ i hope this was okay and i hope i served and if not im soso sorry and this doesn't exist ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

It was your first argument with Xavier and you’d never seen this side of him. His usually warm, soft eyes narrow into a piercing glare, losing their usual kindness and sleepiness to it. You had always believed that you and Xavier would never argue, yet here you were, caught in a heated argument. Frustration had clouded both your minds, leaving both to forget what the initial problem even was. The emotional exhaustion was palpable and you both were weary from the conflict.

In an attempt to reconcile, Xavier reached out to pull you closer and offer an apology. His sudden gesture was unexpected and made you flinch. The movement was too abrupt, causing you a momentary surge of anxiety. You recoiled back slightly, your body tense.

His eyes widened in shock at your reaction. Instantly, he withdrew his arm, staring down at his hands as if they had betrayed him. Hurt and confusion on his face were palpable, as if he committed an offense. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, “I’m so sorry if I scared you. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

The frustration that had marked his earlier expression melted away and was replaced by the tender, sincere face you knew and loved. As your mind began to process the sudden shift and the context of his actions, you realized that his outstretched arm had been an attempt to offer comfort.

“I’m sorry you thought I’d hurt you,” Xavier says, his voice weighted with sincerity. “I promise I will never do that. I don’t know what I did to make you feel this way, but I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to be a better boyfriend.”

Seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes, you stepped forward closer to him, your heart aching for him. Gently, you cupped his cheek in your hand, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm. “You’re not a bad boyfriend,” You reassured him, your voice soft and soothing. Xavier nuzzled into your hand, a small grateful small forming on his lips. "I know you would be the last person in this world to hurt me. It was just out of instinct, I’m sorry.”

The tension between you began to dissolve, bridging the gap that had formed during the argument. "Then let’s promise to never argue ever again,” He says, locking your eyes with yours. “I didn’t like it one bit.”

You nod with a soft smile as he reaches out to take your hand in his, holding it close. “We’ll find a better way to handle things. I love you too much to let anything come between us.” You both drew closer, wrapping each other in an embrace. He presses his lips gently on your forehead to remind you.

Zayne:

Zayne loves you very much. He may not always express it in words, but his actions always speak volumes and the way he takes care of you shows how deeply he cares. Most of your arguments tend to revolve around your wellbeing and the way you don't take care of yourself properly. When you're stubborn and brush off his concerns, it frustrates him further.

Tonight it seems like the frustration built up and Zayne who usually speaks with a gentle tone towards you, finds himself slightly raising his voice for the first time. It was out of a mix of desperation and concern for you. He raises his hand to fix the collar of his button up shirt. He tugs at the collar and tries to smooth it out, adjusting it. However, the sudden movement is mistaken by you in the heat of the moment. Seeing Zayne’s hand come up, your heart skips a beat and a rush of panic comes through you. At the moment, the gesture felt threatening as if he was trying to strike you. But deep down you know Zayne would never hurt you but rather the fear of the unknown makes you flinch. You take a step back, your eyes wide and your body tense.

Zayne notices your reaction and his face falls. The realization of his innocent gesture was misinterpreted and hits him like a wave. His throat tightens and he struggles to find the right words as he tries to reassure you. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” His hand lowers and he swallows hard. His eyes were a mix of regret and exhaustion. The tension in his gaze is palpable, clear even without words. “I’m sorry,” He says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I was just fixing my collar. I would never hurt you. Please, don’t think that. Forgive me my love.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading for you to see the truth in his expression.

You can see the pain in his eyes, his usually composed demeanor has cracked under the weight of your misinterpretation. The fear in your chest slowly begins to disappear as you recognize his genuine remorse and the depth of his feelings.

As you speak, your body relaxes. "I'm sorry. I don't really know why I did that" You admit, letting out a sigh. You blink a few times, trying to prevent the tears that threaten to spill.

Zayne watches you with a soft, concerned look. He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you. "May I?-"

You nod, and he closes the distance between you, enveloping you in his arms. He pulls you in a little tighter, his hands resting soothingly on your back.

"It's alright you do not have to know." He sighs, pressing a kiss at the top of your head as he rubs soothing circles on your back. "I promise you, I would never do such a thing. Please let me make it right my love."

Rafayel:

Usually your arguments were nothing more than just playful banter, something that was brushed off with laughter. But today, something was different about this argument. The conversation escalated into a heated argument, with both of you frustrated. The words you threw at each other were sharper, the silence afterward heavier.

Rafayel’s hands lifted to ruffle his hair out of frustration but it seemed to heighten the tension. You backed away, closing your eyes and turning your head, trying to shield yourself from a possible hit or a burn.

Seeing your reaction, Rafayel’s expression immediately softened. His hand dropped to his sides, and felt the sting of regret and concern pierce through his frustrations. He realized the impact of his actions so he steps forward with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding with a mix of worry and desperation. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you to reassure his need for you.

You nestled into his chest but your body remained tense from the argument’s intensity. “Cutie…You know I would never hurt you, right?” His voice was a mix of hurt and worry, trembling slightly as if his worst nightmare came true—losing you again. The thought of having you scared of him, after losing you once before, made him desperate to keep you in his embrace to prevent you from ever leaving him ever again.

He gently pulls away, his hands cupping your face with tenderness. His fingers stroked your cheeks softly and his gaze filled with a mixture of relief as he saw you relax against him. “You don't need to be scared,” He murmured, “I’m here to protect you. I promise I'll make it up to you.” The sincerity in his eyes and the gentle caress of his hands were a silent vow to ensure you felt safe and loved.

Later on that day he apologized in Glubglubnese, Popoposh, and Blublublun to start off by making it up to you.

Sylus:

You and Sylus had your fair share of arguments and you both always managed to talk things through and reach a compromise. This time, however, this disagreement delta relentless back-and forth that seemed to stretch on forever.

His scowl and the tone in his voice was unsettling. The room fell into an uneasy silence until Sylus brought a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples. At that moment, you made a mistake. To his hand raised, you flinched, fearing it was to use his evol on you or something worse. 

Instinctively, you crouched down and shielded yourself with your arms, overwhelmed by a wave of shame and fear. You knew deep down that he would never hurt you, but your  reflexes were too strong to ignore. With your face hidden, you missed the hurt and regret that clouded Sylus’s eyes. He took a deep breath, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you.

“Sweetie….” He says, his tone filled with sorrow. “Please, look at me.”

When you finally dared to meet his gaze, the intimidation was gone. He crouched down to your level, his expression soft and tender. He reached out, gently cupping your face and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He sighed in relief knowing you didn’t flinch this time when he approached you.

“I would never hurt you,” He extends his hand, helping you up to your feet. As you stood, he pulled you into a heartfelt embrace. “How could I ever do that to someone I love so deeply? I would never forgive myself.” You rested your head against his chest and the familiar scent of him enveloped you, soothing your nerves. Sylus’s hands moved gently through your hair and traced comforting circles on your back that offered a silent apology and reassurance. In that moment, the argument was forgotten and replaced of a sense of tenderness.

[floatyflowers]

Hi! Big fan of your books!

If your taking any request rn can you please make a romantic white king head cannon for your Disney master list?

I really hope that we see a lot more of him in your yandere Disney book!

Dark Male! White King X Alice's Mother! Reader

You are the mother of Alice, and after her sudden disappearance, you search for her until you accidentally fall down a rabbit hole and find yourself in Wonderland.

Desperate to find your daughter, you wander through Wonderland’s strange, ever-changing landscapes only to meet the White King.

He helps you in reuniting with your daughter and even allow you two to stay at his castle.

Right now, you and Alice’s stood before the White King, his alabaster figure glowing in the soft light of his grand hall.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," you say, your voice filled with sincere gratitude.

"You’ve been most kind to us, but it’s time we return home."

The White King’s light coloured eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his lips curling into a polite yet unreadable smile.

"Home?" he repeated, his voice smooth as silk.

"My dear lady, you are already home. Why wander back to a world so mundane when you could remain here, where beauty and wonder know no bounds?"

Alice looked up at you, her wide eyes betraying an awe at the idea of staying in Wonderland.

You shook your head, your grip on your daughter's hand tightening.

"We’re grateful for your hospitality, truly, but I have a husband waiting for me and Alice."

The White King’s serene expression faltered for a brief moment before solidifying into something colder, sharper.

"A husband?" he echoed, his tone laced with disdain. He stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you.

"Surely you jest, no man could ever care for you or Alice as I would, you belong here, with me, I will make you my queen, and your daughter shall have a life of luxury as a princess."

"No, I-"

The White King places a finger on your lips, his whimsical smile appearing.

"The potion should work now."

When you realise what he meant by potion, it was already too late, as you have fallen unconscious into his arms.

The white king picks you up into his arms, before looking down at Alice.

"Now come, Alice, we should bring your mother to her bed."

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

[misaerabl]

RIDING/GRINDING ON ELLIES TITS

spoiler: she cums first!!!

ellie x reader

CW: established relationship, reader riding/grinding on ellies tits, e! cums and r! doesn't (or at least it's not mentioned) ,mentions of readers tits bouncing (doesn't necessarily mean she's supposed to have big boobs?), not proofread

"You want to what?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion, staring at you as if you've just made the most outrageous request imaginable.

"Ride your tits"

Ellie blinks, her gaze flickering between you and your words, still hanging in the air. You're perched on the edge of the bed, your lips forming a subtle pout, waiting for her to process it all.

She couldn't quite wrap her head around where this idea had come from. Of course, she'd never deny you anything; she'd move mountains if you asked her to. But... wow, she hadn't realized you harbored these kinds of fantasies.

You two had always been open with each other. She knew how much Ellie adored—no, obsessed with your breasts. But you? Well, that was a different story altogether.

"I mean... I just want to try it, but if you're not into it, I totally get it," you said, your voice soft and sincere. You never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. But Ellie quickly shook her head, her expression softening.

"It’s not that, babe," she replied, her tone gentle. "I’m just... honestly shocked that you want to try something like this."

"But I really do..." you mumble, your voice soft but determined. You slowly crawl over to her on the bed, where she’s sitting with her back propped up against the headboard. Leaning in, you gently tug at her hoodie, your breath brushing against her ear as you whisper, “I want to ride your tits"

Without much more hesitation, Ellie’s on her back, stretched out across the bed. Her hoodie lies forgotten on the floor, and her undershirt is bunched up enough to reveal her tits.

Her breath hitches as you slip off your underwear and position yourself on top of her. She notices how wet you are. She could’ve sworn it was glistening under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, catching the light just right like it was begging to be touched.

Ellie's eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of you, straddling her with your most intimate area just inches from her chest. She swallows hard, her voice barely a whisper, "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

You don't answer, instead you just look down at her and lower yourself.

Her breath catches in her throat as she feels the warm, wet sensation of your clit pressing almost directly onto her nipple. Her hands instinctively move to gently grip your thighs, holding you in place as she looks up at you with lidded eyes.

Ellie's nipples harden beneath you, and she lets out a soft moan, her hips involuntarily bucking slightly. She can feel the heat radiating from your pussy, and it's driving her wild. She swallows hard, trying to find her voice.

Fingers dig into your flesh as she tries to remain still, knowing that any movement on her part could send you both over the edge. "Fuck," she hisses under her breath, her gaze flickering between your face and the contact point between your bodies. "This is insane."

Ellie can feel your breath growing faster and shallower as you slowly shift your hips, trying to find the perfect spot. She can see the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, chuckling slightly at your concentration.

Ellie's eyes roll back slightly as she feels you finally find that perfect spot, your clit grinding down on her hard nipple. She lets out a loud moan, her back arching involuntarily, pushing her chest up further into you. "Shit, right there..."

"Yeah? You like that too?" you ask, breathless, your voice low and a little shaky.

"Fuck yes..." she pants out, her voice thick with desire. She can barely think straight with the way you're riding her tits, you wetness smearing onto her chest. "You're gonna... fuck..." She trails off, losing her train of thought as another moan escapes her lips.

Picking up your pace, your movements growing more desperate as your hands find her arms, gripping them for support—pinning her down gently, but with purpose.

You lean down, your chest hovering just above her face, close enough for her breath to ghost across your skin. Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, wide with something between awe and hunger.

Ellie's eyes flutter closed for a moment as she lets out a deep moan, your movements driving her wild. She can feel your wetness coating her nipple, and the sensation is almost too much to bear. Her hips buck up slightly, meeting your rhythm as she whispers, "Holy fuck..."

Her gaze is firmly locked on your own bouncing tits as you ride her. She watches, mesmerized, as they jiggle and shake just inches from her face. Her mouth waters at the sight, and she can feel her own desire building to an almost unbearable level. "Jesus Christ..."

Suddenly she cries out, her body convulsing beneath you as a powerful orgasm crashes through her. Her pussy clenches around nothing, aching from the intense stimulation received solely from your breasts grinding against hers. Panting heavily, she grips your arms tighter.

“Did you just—?” you ask, breath hitching as your body keeps moving, grinding down without pause. Your voice is soft, airy, nearly lost in the heat between you.

You glance down to meet her eyes. She’s already looking up at you, flushed, chest rising and falling fast. Her fingers tighten around your waist, grounding you—and maybe herself.

She lets out a breathy laugh, barely a whisper. “Y-Yeah.”

A dazed smile pulls at your lips, the haze in your mind making everything feel warm and weightless.

And then, in that small space between heartbeats, Ellie says it—gentle, reverent.

“You’re so pretty.”

[nochepsicodelica]

Suggestive

"Baby, I have to gooo," you whine, groaning irritatedly when the iron hold of Toji's arms doesn't loosen around your waist. "Lance is gonna be pissed if i'm late for another job."

"Mm..." he hums, his lips detaching from the fresh mark he just left on your neck. "We could be leaving together, partnered up and all," he murmurs, gently brushing his lips over the plethora of visible kisses, "but you won't leave that damn agency. Shiu's better at finding jobs that pay you tons to basically shoot at practice dummies."

You sigh. This is the discussion you and Toji have practically every other day. He always waits until you're almost leaving to bring it up, too.

"You know I owe a lot to the guy, Toji. He swooped in when I needed help—when I was on my own and couldn't ground myself. He treated me like I was family—like I was his own kid. I can't just turn my back on him like that."

"I know, ma, and trust me, I get that. I completely understand, where you're coming from. We've got similar stories in that aspect, 'cause I feel like I owe Shiu a lot, too. But what are you gonna do when someone puts a hit on me, and your handler offers you so much money that you can retire as soon as i'm down?"

You bring two fingers and your thumb up, shaping them into a gun, make a cocking sound and press your fingertips to his forehead. "Bang!"

Toji rolls his eyes, but his amused chuckle is what brings a smile to your face. "Yeah? You'd take the job and shoot me dead?" He asks.

"As if you'd get shot down so easily. Nah, someone else can struggle with that," you say, lowering your "gun" with a teasing grin.

"And if it had to be you?" He asks, leaning in to bury his face in the comfort of the crook of your neck, again. "Would you let me get away?"

You hum, enjoying the softness of his returning affection to the skin beneath the collar of your lowered turtleneck. "Yeah, I'd let you get away," you confirm. "I'd probably..." you cut yourself off with a giggle, a sound that has Toji grinning against your skin. "...probably turn around and text you to see what you want for dinner, and see if you're tryna pork later on." Your laugh returns when you feel the puff of air that comes with his chuckle, against your neck.

"You got a dirty mouth, doll," he murmurs, loosening his hold on you and letting his hands wander over your torso. "Fucking love it."

"Hey," you say, your tone a soft warning when he starts tugging at your shirt, trying to untuck it from your cargos. "I have to go, so pump the brakes for now, and we can go at it like rabbits later on—if you still want to. Okay?" You ask, rubbing his chest.

"Fine," Toji grumbles. He fixes the collar of your turtleneck and veils the evidence of his morning affection. "If I want to," he mutters, scoffing as if it's an unbelievable thing to say. "You're good," he says, referring to the tidiness of your outfit.

"Cool, but now I'm curious to know what you would do if Shiu told you to hunt me down."

He hums, a mischievous smirk formed on his scarred lips. He mimics the gun you made with your hand, but instead of pressing his fingertips to your forehead, he puts them beneath your jaw. He makes the same cocking sound and... "Bang!"

It's your turn to roll your eyes and laugh. "Nice. Real nice," you say, amusedly.

"Right?" He says, with a smug grin. He uses the position of his fingers to tilt your head up more and presses a single, slow and savored kiss to your lips, luring giddy giggles from you and a smile onto his face. "Nah, someone else can struggle with that." He retracts his "gun" from your jaw and rests his hand on your thigh.

"Wish we would've met under difference circumstances—you being one of Shiu's new hires if it was destined to be through this field—but I'm not gonna bitch about it when I got to meet you at all." There's a sincerity in his expression, a gleam in his eyes that you see when he's using his heart to communicate.

"Aww, Toji! You're such a sweeeetheart," you coo, your smile beaming as you pinch his cheeks. He groans, but still does absolutely nothing to stop you. "My big, buff, handsome man is such a softie," you say, squealing with joy.

While Toji can act like this is the most ridiculous thing ever—you cooing and peppering kisses all over his face—he can't hide that gleam in his eyes. So when you sigh and say, "Well, I'm officially late, again. I actually have to go, now." He's miserable and can't do anything about it.

"Call you later?" You say, getting off his lap and fixing your clothes.

"'Course, ma. Did you double check your duffel?"

"Uh-huh. Everything is in there and everything is functional," you assure.

"Sounds good." He doesn't lie back down yet. There's still two more things you need to do and he'll be damned if he doesn't get them from you.

You smile as you lean in to peck his lips, transferring some of your sweet lip balm onto his lips. One.

"Love you. I'll see you later." Two.

"Love you, doll."

As soon as you turn your back, Toji's swiping his tongue over his lips, trying to grasp the remnants of your kiss. Green eyes stick to your figure as you turn around and grab your duffel bag and phone. Phone in your pocket, keys in your pocket, duffel strap crossed over your torso, shoes near the front door—good to go.

"You look hot," Toji calls, after you, his usual smirk already raising his scar.

"Bye, Toji," you say, through a laugh.

[magicdustsworld]

Zayne has standards.

He really does.

And those standards include not thirsting after his very beautiful wife every time she has the audacity to exist in a damn sundress.

But here he is.

You are sprawled out on the couch, using a cushion as a recliner while you scroll through your phone with a practiced ease that should have been illegal. You are wearing that sundress again—the same one he bought you and the same one that made him lose his mind the first time you walked out of your bedroom wearing that. The soft yellow clings to your bust and torso, before flaring from the waist down. A slit runs down from your knee to the hem—giving him a tantalizing view of your legs as you cross them over one another. The neckline dips low; although keeping your modesty concealed, the sweetheart shape leaves no stone unturned—promising the allure behind the veil.

There you are resting on the sofa like some celestial being descended from heaven; taking away his breath and self control—fighting and failing hard to resist the temptation.

And the worst part of it all? You aren't even trying to seduce him.

You are just there.

Radiant.

Effortless.

Dangerous.

As ever.

Zayne leans on the doorway, arms folded over hios chest and jaw set in a thin line as if that would the heat from crawling up his neck.

As if sensing his gaze, you speak without making the effort to look up, "Anything wrong?"

"It's too cold for you to be wearing something like... that.

"Huh?" Finally, you grace him the look he was so desperately begging for. (Not that you'll ever know about it). You make some clicks on your phone before turning the device towards him, "See! It's 70 degrees. It's warm enough."

In response, your husband just glares at the screen like it has personally offended him. It has. Then, he mumbles something incoherent under his breath; along the lines of 'You have a knack for getting knocked out cold' and 'How much it'd help him you if you only sprout some wisdom and put on a cardigan.'

He rotates on his heels, strolling towards the kitchen—at this point only some chilled water would help him—and hoping you haven't caught onto his monologue. But you did. You always do and when you finally register his words in your mind, a slow grin curls down your lips.

So that is it, huh?

No sooner has Zayne reached the refrigerator, he feels the warmth of your figure behind him. He fixes you with a questioning gaze, one of his eyebrows raising, as he fishes out a bottle of water from it.

Leaning against the counter, your perpetual smirk depends and that's the cue for your husband to know that you are upto no good.

"You okay, darling?" You ask, voice low and turning towards a teasing edge. Stepping closer, you place your hand on his forearm—the muscles tensing almost instantly under your touch. Perfect. "You look a little... warm."

Zayne clears his throat, "I am fine."

"Mhm, hmm, you sure?" you ask, leaning in—absolutely revelling on the effect you are having on him.

"Of course," he swallows, stepping back but you only step closer; not letting him or anyone shorten the proximity. You wouldn’t even let it happen, no matter what occurs. "Why would you even think otherwise?"

"Heh!" You snort, amusement floating in the sound. "Because what if I say you keep looking at me like I am dessert and you are starving?"

"Then I'll say you're delusional."

"Oh?" This time, you raise an eyebrow. Then, wedging your voice to a tone lower—transcending it to something sultry and wicked. "Then you wouldn’t be affected if I kiss you right now?"

His shoulder jerks back, eyes widening as a warmth spreads all over his cheek and burns down to his neck. "You wouldn’t dare—"

But you do.

You kiss him.

Standing on your tip-toes, your eyelids flutter shut as your soft lips pressed against his chapped one. The slow motion of the movement gave him all the time in the world to memorize each nook and cranny of your expression before you engulfed him into a sincere affection. Sacred in the act. Reverent in its nature.

After being happily married to the calm and composed Dr. Zayne—one of the best surgeons in the Akso hospital and the youngest winner of the starcather award—for two years; you'd wonder surprise kisses like this would be considered a routine now. And although they are, Zayne's reaction to them every time hasn't had a single itch of change. You still remember how he had reacted when you had kissed him unexpectedly for the first time. It had been under a snow cuddled christmas tree in the heart of Linkon city and as cliche as it was, it was the fruit of your hard earned resolve after yearning for him for literal years.

Even that time, his hands and feet had fallen victim to paralysis as well. Heart beating in his chest at a rapid rate and he stood there like a statue, barely moving his lips against yours—just like now. Only when did you begin to pull away, did he finally take the lead.

His hand wraps around your waist, pulling you close whilst the other cradles your jaw. Angling your face to the side, he parts his lips—pressing them on yours with a fervent hunger. His tongue prods over your lips and you open your mouth, welcoming him into the salacious exchange. The fabric of his shirt, bunches inside your fist prompting you to pull him closer. He relents, lips meeting with yours with sheer desire and affection. Despite the carnal nature of his mouth on yours, you couldn't deny the wafting purity in the air. The way Zayne handled you with so much affection and zeal—never rushing you, matching his tempo to yours because it isn't just him indulging in this wanton connection. There's you and Zayne is nothing but vigilant when it comes to you; as if you are a fragile thing and any stitch of recklessness would shatter you. Something he'd never let happen as long as he lives.

When he let's you go, both of you are breathless. Inhaling the mingling air in abrupt, short pants; a flush spread over your skin.

Then, "Still fine?" You whisper, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. The smug smile back with full force.

Zayne, still dazed and doomed, "You are... evil."

But even as he says that, his hold on your waist tightens just ever so slightly. Because, even if the end of the story concludes you as evil, he'll be gratified to know that you're his evil.

P.S. if y'all are wondering why does every Lnds drabble of mine consist husband!LI then it's because I'd husband them up in a breath if they were real ;-; jdhdjhdjhs hope you liked it

Zayne is my main btw <3 do tell me yours!

[anantaru]

— when he kisses you

including. zhongli, cyno, diluc, kinich

genre. making out & slightly suggestive, gn! reader

— zhongli

alongside zhongli, you feel his presence instantly, it reminds you of a comforting and reassuring constant— a cradling you wholly worshipped as the bustle of the harbor behind you faded away.

"thank you for showing me this place," your eyes glow as you said softly, glancing up at him, "it's beautiful."

with you, zhongli can leave his stern demeanor behind for once and actually smile, wholeheartedly, his golden eyes warm just by the mere sight of you, "it is a place i often come to for reflection."

"i thought you might appreciate its tranquility."

feeling a sense of peace wash over you, you took in the serene surroundings— the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft trickle of a nearby stream creating a soothing melody as zhongli held you in his arms.

the moment felt perfect, almost surreal.

his gaze was intense, dragon eyes yet so tender when he looks at you.

before you could say anything, he leans in, his hand gently cupping your cheek to feel you on his cold skin— within this subtle second, the world seemed to pause as he fully leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, purposeful kiss.

it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before— his lips were soft, his tongue deep, and filled with a profound sense of reverence as he captured you.

your mind swirled with a mix of emotions as his kiss was turning measured, each movement precise and purposeful, as if he was savoring every second— almost as if he was scared you'd one day, disappear from his lonely, immortal life.

the experience he held in life and the time he's conquered was evident in the way he guided the kiss, controlled it, drew you in and made you feel cherished beyond words.

as he deepened the kiss, a heated curl crept up your cheeks, your shyness growing with each passing moment.

you couldn't help but feel self-conscious about your own inexperience compared to his practiced, almost ancient touch— yet, zhongli's gentle and patient approach made you feel safe and valued, as if you were the only person in the world.

— cyno

"ugh— today was exhausting," you exhale shakily, bound within exhaustion, yet your voice was barely above a whisper, not wanting to break the serene silence as you rested against cyno's shoulder.

and well, he? he simply looked at you, his eyes intense yet gentle, "indeed, it was," he agrees with a small smile playing at his lips, "but it was worth it, having you by my side Iimean."

the butterflies finish filling your stomach, and the spinning in your mind begins— fuck, you adore him so much, and the sincerity in his tone made your heart race, "i'm glad i could be with you," you replied, your smile tight to your teeth like you're holding back a grin, "thank you for taking me,"

before advancing, he takes your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing your skin, "there’s just something about you i cannot discern," he begins to ponder, his gaze never leaving yours, "that makes everything we do together feel special."

you knew what was coming— was this finally it? cyno has never kissed you before and beneath your nervousness, your breath hitched in anticipation.

his hand moved to the back of your neck, his touch firm yet controlled as he pressed you closer.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle— it was messy and raw, filled with a demanding passion that took your breath away— it's as if he was waiting, storing this bubbling energy and deep want inside his heart for the longest time.

it pained him, fuck, he wanted to kiss you a million times already.

cyno kissed you as if he couldn't get enough, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that left you feeling dizzy— truly, you could feel the heat of his desire inside each kiss and lap of tongue, in the way he seemed to pour all of his stored up emotions into every movement.

you moaned softly against his lips, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as he continued his fervent assault on your plush lips.

cyno's kisses were unrestrained, a chaotic mix of tenderness and hunger that sent shivers down your spine, no, it was beyond that— well into the confines of your flesh, he took over as he nipped at your bottom lip, teasing you before deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor.

— diluc

the tavern was quiet after closing hours, even quieter after the last customer have left minutes ago as the dim lighting created a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

you actually favored this time of the night, especially when you helped your boyfriend diluc clean up the tavern, the clinking of glasses and the soft hums of the wind outside the only sounds that were almost as serene and familiar as his tender exhales.

in all honesty, he never wants you to help him, rather does he love watching you wait for him as he does all the work— yet he cannot lie, it makes his heart ten times faster when you really want to help him, just because you love him so much.

"thank you for staying to help," the master of the dawn winery says, despite a little awkward, yet his voice gentle as he wiped down the bar covered in wine, "you really didn't need to,"

"of course, diluc, no need to thank me," you reply, smiling at him. "i enjoy spending time with you, no matter what we do as long as we're together."

he glances at you in an almost shocked expression, like your little confession was struck inside his heart and carved there for eternity, a soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, "there’s something about these quiet moments that i cherish too,"

you felt a warmth spread through you at his words, they're always so carefully selected, so passionately exuded, and you keep sneaking little glances over to him while he finishes off his task. 

as you finished your own, you too noticed how diluc was watching you with a contemplative expression and before you could ask what he was thinking, he stepped closer, his presence magnetic, his smile intoxicating.

he exhaustedly huffs out before nuzzling his head in your neck while wrapping one large arm around your waist.

you giggle, welcoming him and stroking over his silken hair as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

the touch was soft at first, almost hesitant, but as he felt you relax into him, his kisses grew more confident.

diluc’s lips moved with a slow, unhurried precision, each kiss a perfect blend of pressure and tenderness— beyond that, he seemed to know exactly where to place them, as if he had memorized every inch of your neck.

the sensation was eye crossing, a mix of warmth and electricity that left you breathless and at his total mercy.

you close your eyes, your fingers gripping his shirt as he continued— each kiss seemingly lasting an eternity when in reality, not long enough.

his mouth explores with a patience and care that enveloped you, all of his senses filled by your scent, the temperature of your body and your traces on his scalp.

the way he kissed you spoke volumes, a silent declaration of his feelings as the way you welcomed it made him feel safe.

when he reaches a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, you couldn’t suppress a soft moan— and you're a sweating mess by now , yet diluc abruptly paused, his breath warm against your skin,

"did I hurt you?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.

"no," you whisper and tug him closer to you "it feels… incredible."

— kinich

"kinich," your breath hitches the moment you open the door to your bedroom and find yourself looking at the mysterious man you've barely known for a week, a hand over your heart signalizing your surprise.

"you scared me."

"apologies, my dear," he drawls, smirking, his voice smooth and calm, " i didn’t mean to frighten you, i would never intentionally do such."

"—although, i needed to see you,"

you smile at him, slightly awkwardly but granted, he did break into your home.

up till now, the tension eases as you placed your jacket on the drawer next to your bed, "uh, it's alright, it would be better if you could tell me next time."

kinich's gaze softens, a playful glint in his eyes, "so— you don't like when i surprise you?" he says, stepping closer, "the quiet of the night is a perfect time for surprises, no?"

you roll your eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you at his sudden nearness— he's so close, but what was he thinking? what games was he playing and were you even able to participate?

fuck, there was just something different about kinich tonight, a confidence in his demeanor that made your heart skip a beat.

and as he moved even closer, you could feel the intensity of his presence and his signature musk, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

"you want me to show you my actual reason for coming here?" he toys with you, pinching your cheek.

shortly after, he closes the gap between you, his hand gently but firmly pressing against your lower back as with a swift, smooth motion, he guides you until you felt back against the soft mattress of your bed.

the suddenness of it took your breath away, catching you off guard and as you looked up at him, his eyes glow wide.

"I couldn't help myself, —couldn't get you out of my head," he whispers, his lips a hairbreadth away from yours, "you draw me in like no one else, you put a spell on me or something?"

without another word, he captured your lips in a kiss that was both confident and playful, a perfect blend of passion and control that marked the obvious in his personality.

his mouth moved against yours with a practiced ease, exploring and conquering with a fervor that left you wish for more, thighs clenching— not to mention the intensity of his kiss which was simply overwhelming, in fact, you found yourself surrendering to it, letting him lead you.

kinich's free hand found its way to your hip, holding you firmly against the bed as he deepened the kiss in no time.

for the first time, you could feel the strength in his grip, the possessiveness in his touch, and it made you both a little scared and excited.

beyond second thoughts, his lips were hungry, his kisses demanding and full of a restrained desire that seemed to build up with every passing second he wasn't able to see you.

you melt against him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling his abs tightly as his tongue lapped around your own in a masterful dance that left you yearning for more.

"you're irresistible," he admits bluntly before releasing his grip on your hips and sliding his palm lower, "—and every time i see you, i have to fight the urge to do this."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify