I’m humbly requesting an angel to write a fanfic about Valko and Zayne fighting over chocolate dessert plsplsplspls those greedy sweet tooth monster are dentist biggest nightmare you cannot tell me otherwise
rly old art I made around october when I first started getting into lads 💔 im sooo sad I played the game late its rly good Lawl it got me. drawing again. thankz love and deepspace ♥️♥️ I rly miss lucifer too like thatz wife…. artem and jumin too 💔💔💔 but ive been. thinking maybr Zayne and jaehee r more similar in a way 💔💔 i love jaehee i miss her soo muchh 💔💔
o also. drew last year after playing sylzu story quest guzy why is he lowkey twinning with Lucifer lol they r kind awf similar idotn know anymoreee oh my goodnes maybe I just. Miss Lucifer 💔💔💔
── .✦ 𝐶𝛰𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆 : explicit content (18+), minors dni, vaginal sex, rough handling, dirty talk, possessive behavior, biting/marking (claws, teeth, and blood drawn in one instance), overstimulation, praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink (implied knotting), bondage (metal Evol and cuffs), semi-public sex (office windows + warehouse), wall sex, prone bone, mating press, reverse cowgirl, spooning, deep penetration, grinding, forced eye contact, fear play (implied), worship kink, slight choking (implied by grip), mutual masturbation, scratching (claws on brick), tail wrapping, hair grabbing (implied), submissive top dynamics, petnames used include sweetheart, pretty thing, pup, baby, my good girl, and pretty, with one instance of blood play from a bite and one instance of the reader being pinned in a vulnerable position. not proofread oopsie
𝑃𝑅𝛰𝑁𝐸 𝐵𝛰𝑁𝐸.
He's got you flattened into the mattress, all two hundred pounds of muscle and wolf draped over your spine like a second skin, cherry-colored hair sticking to his sweaty brow while his nose burrows into the curve of your neck—sniffing, because he can't help it, because you smell like rain and honey and his, and somewhere deep in his throat that feral little whine rumbles all the way down to his his chest. It's so at odds with the way his thick, drooling cock splits you open in one torturously slow, wet push. Your fingers claw at the sheets, a choked sob catching in your throat as he bottoms out, that heavy weight settling deep inside you, stretching you, your cunt squeezing and relaxing in weak little pulses to try and accomodate his size — and he laughs, a low, breathless chuckle against your ear, canines grazing the lobe just shy of drawing blood. "Aww, sweetheart, you're trembling," he coos, mock-sympathetic even as his hips snap forward with a brutal, wet smack that punches the air from your lungs, claws denting the headboard as he finds a rhythm—deep, relentless, mean—pressing your cheek into the pillow with every downward drive. But even as he fucks you into the mattress like a beast caught in a heated rut, his arms are wrapped around you, forearms bracketing your ribs, pulling you impossibly closer, his tail coiling tight around your calf like he's scared you'll slip away. "Don't run from me," he whines, breath hot and ragged against your nape, hips never stuttering, "wanna feel you choke on every inch—wanna fill you so full you'll dream about my knot," and his voice cracks on the last word, that scary, hulking predator reduced to a clinging mess who needs you to take him, to keep him, to let him ruin you softly.
𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑆.
He's folded you in half like you're made of silk, knees shoved up to your shoulders, the backs of your thighs pressed flush against his heaving chest and he just stares for a moment, amber eyes blown wide and dark, tracing the glossy, swollen mess of your cunt wrapped around his leaking length like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "Look at that," he purrs, voice dripping with teasing awe, one calloused thumb reaching down to circle your puffy clit, smearing your slick across your belly just to watch you twitch, "taking all of me like a good little thing—fuck, you're so pretty when you're stuffed full," and then he rolls his hips, a deep, grinding circle that hits that spongy spot inside you and makes your vision white out, stars bursting behind your eyelids. His sharp canines graze your bottom lip, tugging at the plush flesh before he soothes it with a kittenish lick, all while his hips piston into you with deep, measured strokes that have the headboard creaking and the sheets pooling wet beneath you. "Eyes on me, pretty thing," he commands, but it comes out breathless, desperate, almost a plea, because he needs to watch you fall apart, needs to see those tears cling to your lashes. His Evol hums, cooling the silver cuffs that bind your wrists to the headboard, but his hands stay gentle, palms cradling your jaw, thumbs stroking your cheekbones like you're something sacred. "There she is—there's my girl," he coos, fucking into you deeper, slower, worshipping your gooey cunt and your kiss bitten lips, that scary wolf completely undone by the way your walls flutter around him, clinging and greedy, and he smiles, boyish and adoring, even as he wrecks you from the inside out.
𝐶𝛰𝑊𝐺𝐼𝑅𝐿 / 𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸 𝐶𝛰𝑊𝐺𝐼𝑅𝐿.
You're bouncing reverse in his lap, back plastered to his sweat-slicked chest, the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office reflecting the lewd, glistening sight of his thick shaft disappearing into your drenched heat over and over again—and he's watching the glass, amber eyes half-lidded and starving, one massive hand splayed across your stomach while the other sneaks up to cup your jaw, turning your face so he can press messy, open-mouthed kisses to the corner of your lips. "C'mon, baby, use me," he slurs against your cheek, hips twitching up to meet your lazy, grinding descent, but his voice is needy, wrecked, that booming baritone cracking into a whimper when you clench around him, "don't stop—please don't stop—you feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me." And when you slow down, thighs burning, he whines, a high, pathetic sound that's so utterly unlike the terrifying Chairman who makes boardrooms tremble, and he wraps both arms around your middle, hugging you tight to his chest, burying his nose in your sweat-damp hair while his hips buck up into you with frantic, shallow thrusts. "You're mean," he pouts against your scalp, claws pricking just enough to sting at your waist, but he's kissing the spot right after, tongue lapping at the tiny beads of blood like an apology, "getting me all worked up and then—nngh—trying to tap out? Nah, sweetheart, you're gonna ride me until that pretty cunt of yours is raw, then you're gonna let me fill you up. Right, little pup? " He groans when you clench around him, seemingly in agreement, the sound breathless and warm, that feral, untamed beast completely surrendered to you, his throne, his home, his everything.
𝐴𝐺𝐴𝐼𝑁𝑆𝑇 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐿.
He's got you slammed against the cold, damp concrete of the abandoned warehouse, your legs locked high around his hips and his massive palms gripping the swell of your ass, fingers dimpling the soft flesh as he lifts you with complete ease, impales you on one brutal, all-consuming shove that has your head knocking back against the brick with a dull thud—but he's there in an instant, one hand cupping the back of your skull, cushioning the impact while his hips roll forward in a punishing, deep grind that punches a broken moan from your chest. "Couldn't even make it to the bed," he teases, sharp canines grazing the column of your throat, tongue lapping at your frantic pulse point while his tail wraps possessively around your thigh, keeping you spread wide and helpless against him, "got so worked up just lookin' at you in that skirt—gonna fuck you stupid right here, where anyone could walk in and see who you belong to." But yet, his voice wavers, cracks with affection, because he's grinning against your skin, that boyish, mischievous smile that makes him look nothing like the scary wolf who just tore through a dozen enemies. His hips piston into you with frantic, sloppy thrusts, the wet schlik schlik echoing off the walls, rain dripping through a broken skylight and mingling with the sweat trailing down his chest—and even as he fucks you ruthlessly, brutally, one arm stays locked around your waist, holding you flush to his body like you're the only anchor in a storm, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing you in with desperate little huffs. "Smell so scared and soaked," he murmurs, lips brushing your pulse and you whimper, "but you're safe, you're always safe with me, even when I'm bein' a monster—fuck, I love the way you squeeze me when I talk dirty," and he laughs, despite a whine curling around the sound, driving into you deeper, slower, meaner, kissing your tears away even as he paints your walls with his release.
𝑆𝑃𝛰𝛰𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐺.
Moonlight spills through the blinds like liquid silver, painting his cherry hair in pale, ethereal streaks as he pulls you flush against his chest, your back curving into his broad, scarred torso like two puzzle pieces snapping together—and he sighs, a deep, throaty sound that's all warmth and no bite, his half-hard cock sliding through your slick, puffy folds from behind, nudging past your entrance with a slow, lazy push that has him whimpering against your nape. "Been thinkin' about this all day," he confesses, voice thick with sleep and adoration, one arm banded tight across your ribs while his other hand trails down your belly, fingers dipping to circle your swollen clit in languid, hypnotic patterns. Your back arches on instinct, curving to fit the shape of his shadow. He continues in a low rumble against your skin, murmuring between kisses, "Sitting in that boardroom, tryin' to sound smart, but all I could think about was coming home to this—to you—feeling you warm and wet and mine." His hips rock into you with slow, deep, worshipful thrusts, each one a gentle nudge that has you melting into the mattress, his tail curling possessively around your thigh, keeping you anchored to his every lazy roll, and he kisses your shoulder, your neck, the shell of your ear, a trail of soft, open-mouthed affection that makes your heart ache. "My good girl," he murmurs, canines grazing just soft enough to make you shiver, "my pretty, perfect, clingy little thing—can't even fuck you slow without wanna whine about how much I love you," He groans wetly against your skin, his hips stuttering into a deeper, needier rhythm, that big, scary wolf completely tamed, reduced to a sobbing, adoring mess who fucks you with all the tenderness in the world, whispering promises into your hair until the sun comes up.
zayne loves being your certified walking a/c whenever summer rolls around. You were already regularly affectionate with him, but now that the heat had fully settled in, you’d started clinging to him without even thinking about it.
Wherever he moves, you move.
Right now, you’re curled up against his side on the couch, one arm loosely looped around his while he reads through a stack of medical files. The steady rustle of paper and the faint scent of antiseptic from earlier in his shift should’ve been enough to keep him focused—but you’ve basically turned yourself into a very warm, very determined attachment.
Zayne doesn’t seem to mind.
At least, not until he shifts to stand.
“I need to grab something, I'll be back in a second.” he says quietly, already setting the files aside. The second his weight leaves the couch, you immediately latch onto his arm.
“Nooo.”
You tug again, firmer this time, face pressed into his sleeve like you’re trying to physically anchor him in place. Zayne glances down at you, a small smile playing on his lips as amusement dances in his eyes.
“…You won’t melt in the few minutes I’ll be away,” he says, voice calm, almost teasing.
You look up at him with full seriousness. “It's worse. I’ll boil.”
That earns a quiet exhale of amusement from him, the corner of his mouth lifting as he studies you like you’re a particularly dramatic patient. “Mm,” he murmurs. “Then I suppose I’ll have to properly diagnose you.”
You blink. “Diagnose me with what?”
Zayne shifts his grip under your arms before you can protest further, lifting you with effortless ease against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Acute separation sensitivity,” he says simply. Your protest dies immediately into a small, satisfied noise as he adjusts you against him, one arm securely around your back while the other gathers what he needs from the nearby table.
“Is that even real?” you mumble, already relaxing again.
“No,” he replies softly. “But your symptoms are consistent.”
You huff a laugh, looping your arms properly around his shoulders as he starts walking. Your lashes quickly flutter shut as you listen to the steady sound of his heartbeat beneath his shirt, the coolness around him easing the heat that had been clinging to your skin all afternoon.
It’s unfair, really.
How easy it is to melt like this in his arms.
The way his steps stay steady even while carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. The way the faint chill of his evol lingers just enough to keep you comfortable without ever becoming too much. The way his presence alone feels like relief.
You shift slightly, tucking your face closer into his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“Then you’d agree with twenty-four hour care?” you murmur sleepily, voice muffled as you nuzzle into him. “Since my condition is so severe.”
There’s a pause.
“…Severe, hm?”
You nod against him, completely unbothered, already half-drifting.
His hold tightens just slightly, instinctive and careful as he adjusts you more securely against his chest. When he speaks again, his voice is sweeter than before. “I suppose I wouldn’t have much of a choice,” he says, a faint smile in his tone.
“If it’s that serious.” Warmth blooms in your chest at that, even through the cool air around him. You relax fully then, letting your weight settle completely into him, your breathing slowing as the rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you further under.
“…Good,” you mumble, eyes finally slipping shut for good this time. “Because I like you as my doctor.”
That earns a low chuckle from him.
And a moment later, you feel it—his lips pressing gently to your cheek, lingering just long enough to make your heart stir even as sleep pulls at you.
“I know,” he murmurs. “And I’m afraid I’m already committed to your case.”
♡ princessxmin please do not alter, copy or translate my work !
I live in tropical southeast asia where the humid and heat will humble you. I need zayne so bad this is not funny 😭 if a guy like him exists, i would go out without worry of being sticky sweat 💔💔💔💔
Поначалу я довольно скептически была настроена к этому баннеру, так как думала, что это будет очередная флаффовая и банальная романтическая история с игрой на ностальгию по старому кино. Меня уже давно не радует игра с практически отсутствующим сюжетом, вечно скучными ивентами и похожими друг на друга картами. Однако этот баннер всё же смог приятно удивить. Я большой романтик и, конечно же, люблю подобное кино. А «Гордость и предубеждение» — один из моих самых любимых фильмов, как, собственно, и сама книга. История в карточке Зейна — это прям попадание в самое сердечко. Героев затягивает в фильм, который они смотрят в таинственном кинотеатре. Зейн ничего не помнит и ведёт себя как персонаж этого фильма, а МС пытается вновь разжечь в нём чувства, чтобы завершить историю уже с их участием и вернуться домой.
At first, I was pretty skeptical about this banner because I expected it to be yet another fluffy, cliché romance that simply relied on nostalgia for classic films. The game hasn't excited me for a long time now, with its almost nonexistent story, constantly boring events, and banners that all feel the same. However, this banner pleasantly surprised me. I'm a hopeless romantic, so of course I love stories like this. And Pride and Prejudice is one of my all-time favorite films, just as the novel is one of my favorite books. Zayne's card was an absolute hit for me. The protagonists are drawn into the movie they're watching in a mysterious cinema. Zayne has lost his memories and behaves as though he truly belongs to that film, while the MC tries to rekindle his feelings so they can bring the story to its proper conclusion and finally find their way back home.
Герои фильма помолвлены, но главная героиня этой истории хочет разорвать помолвку, и Зейн соглашается с этим решением. Сама МС, оказавшись на месте героини фильма, вовсе этого не хочет, но помолвку всё же расторгают. Теперь ей приходится заново завоёвывать сердце Зейна. Мужчина, конечно же, пребывает в полном недоумении. Он всячески старается избегать героиню, особенно учитывая строгие правила приличия того времени. И всё же его неудержимо к ней тянет — ну а как иначе? Зейн искренне считает, что она заслуживает права самостоятельно выбирать свою судьбу, и не хочет навязывать ей брак по договорённости. Проходят месяцы. Героиня из кожи вон лезет, чтобы снова понравиться Зейну, но он постоянно колеблется. А между тем фильм нужно как-то довести до конца, чтобы выбраться обратно.
The protagonists of the film are engaged, but the heroine of the film wants to break off the engagement, and Zayne agrees to her decision. The MC, now finding herself in the heroine's role, doesn't want the engagement to end at all, but it's called off anyway. Now she has to win Zayne's heart all over again. Naturally, Zayne is completely bewildered. He does everything he can to avoid her, especially given the strict rules of etiquette of that era. And yet, he can't help being drawn to her—how could he not? Zayne genuinely believes that she deserves the right to choose her own future and refuses to force her into an arranged marriage. Months pass. The heroine does everything she can to make Zayne fall in love with her again, but he keeps hesitating. Meanwhile, they somehow have to bring the movie to its proper ending if they ever hope to return home.
Вот только есть одна проблема: концовка должна быть совсем иной, чем в оригинальном произведении. Там, к сожалению, героев ждал грустный финал — они расстались из-за недопонимания, а когда спустя годы встретились вновь, у каждого уже были обручальное кольцо и жизнь с другим человеком. МС решается на отчаянный шаг. Зейну не хватает смелости вновь признаться ей в своих чувствах, поэтому она пытается сбежать от него, тем самым вынуждая его наконец сделать первый шаг. И вот тут начинается настоящая игра на ностальгии по фильму «Гордость и предубеждение». Он выбегает к ней из тумана, колеблется, его голос дрожит… и происходит новая помолвка. МС целует его руку — совсем как в фильме, — после чего они прижимаются друг к другу лбами. От восторга я чуть не описалась. 😭 А дальше в слайдах нам показывают их свадьбу и счастливое совместное будущее.
There's just one problem: the ending has to be completely different from the original story. In the original, the protagonists have a tragic ending—they separate because of a misunderstanding, and when they meet again years later, both are already wearing wedding rings and living separate lives with other people. The MC decides to take a desperate gamble. Zayne doesn't have the courage to confess his feelings to her again, so she tries to run away from him, hoping to force him into finally taking action. And this is where the beautiful homage to Pride and Prejudice begins. He runs toward her through the mist, hesitates, his voice trembling... and the engagement is renewed. The MC kisses his hand—just like in the film—and then they gently rest their foreheads against each other. I almost pissed myself with excitement. Then, through a series of illustrated slides, we're shown their wedding and the happy future they build together.
Ну, в общем-то, на этом кино заканчивается, и наши ребята возвращаются в реальный мир. Я готова руки целовать разработчикам за такое внимание к деталям, костюмам, атмосфере и всему остальному. И отдельный комплимент актёру озвучки Зейна. Он прекрасно передал британский акцент и манеру речи той эпохи. Карточка получилась просто чудесной и однозначно попадает в список моих любимых.
And with that, the movie comes to an end, and our two protagonists finally return to the real world. I could kiss the developers' hands for the incredible attention they paid to every little detail—the costumes, the atmosphere, and everything else. And a special compliment goes to Zayne's English voice actor. He did a wonderful job capturing the British accent and the style of speech of that era. This card is absolutely wonderful and has easily earned a place among my all-time favorites.
Zayne’s relationships with the other lis in my personal little lads universe:
Rafayel: Fully believe Zayne finds Raf the most annoying of the 4, at least the surface level personality Rafayel shows. Though as time goes he’d roll his eyes a little less, but personally I don’t think they’d interact too much though I fully believe Zayne has shocked Rafayel with some of his comebacks.
Caleb: it’s complicated. From a childhood believing Caleb hated him to the exact opposite being the reality. The first time Caleb called Zayne gege, his brain short circuited. Zayne is definitely the last to know how he feels. But that’s okay, Caleb and I just tease him about it forever once he does realize.
Sylus: it’s a love/hate relationship. Zayne doesn’t like how Sylus drags mc into danger. And I fully believe they would actually have some sort of argument after an auction gone wrong. On the flip side of that, I think they would enjoy a game of chess together or just sitting together while Sylus listened to his records and Zayne read medical journals.
Xavier: Mostly silent respect. Xavier keeps mc safe while on hunting missions and Zayne keeps mc health in check. I also have this little headcanon that when Xavier isn’t feeling well and my mc can’t be there then Xavier goes to Zayne office and sleeps on the couch only to wake up to find he’s been bandaged up and have some hot food waiting for him and when he looked towards Zayne, Zayne says something along the lines of ‘Mc would be upset if she found out he wasn’t taking care of himself’
If you’re interested I have 2 other lis done as well as my mc ⬇️
Zayne better stop looking so dapper and genteel before i dick him down in his darcy derrière. Let it be KNOWN that his prostate will not be left in a so-called "pro" state. Look at him, shaking and quaking like a malnourished willow tree in in a hurricane when he's trying to confess... like it's okay my dear fellow I can leave you trembling for a different reason, lift up your tailcoat for me real quick
"What if i were? What if i died right here of low blood sugar because my wife refused to let me have one macaron?” The seriousness in his voice might have fooled anyone but you.
"Stop being dramatic. You’re not going to die of hypoglycemia just by skipping one macaron right after your dental appointment.” With that said, you snatch the plate from his hands and head straight to the kitchen to hide them somewhere he can't find.
When you come back to the living room, you see Zayne lying on the couch with his eyes closed, body still. “Zayne, are you okay?”
A small smile appears on his face at your concerned voice and you roll your eyes. You can't believe what lengths this grown ass doctor with a prestigious medical degree could go for sweets.
You decide to play along and walk over to him, crouching down on the floor. "Oh no. Did the famous cardiac surgeon of Akso hospital dr Zayne Li die of hypoglycemia?” You fake mourn his pretend death. “What a tragedy! I have no choice but to check his heartbeat."
His smile grows bigger, awaiting your touch on his chest, instead he feels them on his crotch.
He grabs your hands off almost immediately and pulls you on top of him, looking equally amused as surprised. "Do you think my heart is located there?”
“It’s not my fault that they're both big and do a very good job in loving me. Anyone could be easily mistaken.” you say while tracing a huge penis on his chest.
He seemed pleased with your answer. “What if i propose a deal? You show me how much you love me by giving me one macaron and i dedicate both my big attributes to love you back?”
“You're trying to sell your body for one macaron?”
He innocently nods, and you giggle. "As tempting as your offer is, Zaynie." You pat his chest and climb off him. "I'm going to have to pass."
"So my wife would rather see me dead than let my teeth rot?”
You shake your head, he's acting like a man in withdrawal except his addiction is sweet and so is his suffering. You almost pity him, “Yes, no sweets for..... a month.”
His face falls comically and you turn away, already running before he becomes more dramatic.
It’s midnight, of course, and he just can’t get back to sleep. Not while the thought of chocolate cake haunts him. There’s some in the fridge, some that you have specifically told him to wait until tomorrow to eat.
Apparently he’d already had too much sugar today. But it’s 10 minutes past midnight, so it’s technically tomorrow.
He takes atleast 15 minutes to slip out of your embrace, not wanting to wake you. Mostly to avoid the lecture, but also because he would hate to ruin your sleep.
Or share his cake.
He manages the feat of heading downstairs and pulling the cake from the fridge in total silence. But after barely two bites, he hears it.
“Ahhh…” He glances down, spotting your toddler still in her pyjamas, hair messy from sleep, with her mouth open waiting to be fed.
She’s definitely his daughter.
“Hi sweetheart. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He picks her up, smoothing some hair out of her eyes. Still not much of a talker, her mouth stays open, repeating the quiet “Ahh” and glancing at the cake on the counter.
“Just one bite, okay? Then you have to brush your teeth and go back to bed. We wouldn’t want to wake mommy, right?”
“It’s a little late for that.”
Zayne does his best to not look guilty, but you clearly see right through him, shaking your head as if you knew this would happen.
“Give her a bite, the poor thing. She got the sugar cravings from you.”
“Right. And what exactly did you come down here for?”
“…Less talking, more feeding.”
Is it better to speak or to die? @yams-mila - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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