#lads rafayel

[vellatrelle]

Something something about Caleb and underwear

[rafayelxsylusho]

Hello ♥️ I love your fics so much!! 😩 I don’t know if you take requests…but if you do could I request the LADS guys reacting to seeing you without panties on under your dress/skirt? 😈

Ohhhh I really liked this idea.

I'll work on the other three today and post them as soon as I can.

Enjoy!!!

Calebxreader

Rafayelxreader

TW:SMUT

How do the LADS men react when they see you without panties under your skirt/dress Part 1 (Caleb)(Rafayel)

Caleb's gaze drifts over to you as you sit across from him at the dinner table, a smile playing on his lips. The aroma of your favorite meal, freshly cooked by his own hands, wafts through the air between you.

"You know, I remember when you used to beg me to make this every week, you'd come running into the kitchen, skipping and laughing, and throw your arms around me until I agreed." His eyes glimmer with a distant memory, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You were so cute back then, so full of life and energy. I could never say no to you."

"You still can't" said Gran, who sits beside him, with a knowing smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she takes a sip of her drink, setting the glass down gently on the white tablecloth.

"You're right, Gran," Caleb agrees, turning his attention back to you. His gaze is intense, a mix of fondness and something darker, more possessive. "I still can't say no to her. Never could."

He picks up his fork to start eating but accidentally pushes his spoon to the floor with his elbow. He leans down, his chair scraping softly against the hardwood floor as he bends to retrieve the fallen spoon under the table. His eyes can't help but wander over your legs. They trail up your calves, over your knees, and come to a sharp halt when he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat. Or rather, the lack of something. His eyes linger for a moment, drinking in the expanse of smooth, tanned thigh that's been revealed by your slightly spread legs.

Straightening up, he sets the spoon on the table, his movements deliberate and slow. There's a new tension in the set of his shoulders, a coiled energy that wasn't there before. As he takes his seat once more, he doesn't meet your eyes right away. Instead, he busies himself with his own plate, cutting into the tender meat with precise, almost angry strokes. But as he lifts his fork to his mouth, his gaze finally meets yours. There's a depth of emotion swirling in those violet eyes, feelings he can barely contain. Desire, possessiveness, a desperate longing that borders on obsession. It's all there, laid bare for you to see.

His grip tightens on the fork, knuckles turning white as he fights the sudden, overwhelming urge to toss it aside. To lean across the table, to take your face in his hands...and claim your mouth with his own.

Caleb's eyes darken with lust as he watches the sensual movement of your throat as you swallow. The sound of your moan, sweet and breathy makes his heart beat against his ribs like a caged animal desperate to break free. "Does it taste as good as you remember? "I made it just the way you like it," he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. "I remember everything about what you like, pipsqueak." His tone is teasing, but there's also something darker on the way he says your old nickname.

"It's delicious Caleb" said Gran, before you had a chance to answer him, breaking the tension between you.

He sits back in his chair, trying to compose himself even as his heart continues to race. He can't let Gran see the true depths of his feelings, the all consuming love and lust that threatens to swallow him whole.

"That's great, Gran," he says, his voice only slightly strained. "I'm glad you both like it." He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Those violet eyes remain focused on you, even as he tries to engage in the conversation.

"Remember when you and Y/n used to fight over the last piece of meat?" Gran asks, a fond smile on her face. "You two were always so competitive, especially when it came to food."

Caleb's smile tightens "Yeah," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I always made sure she got the last piece. No matter what." His tone is light, but there's another meaning beneath the words. A promise.

You look over at Gran, a bright smile on your face when you say "Gran, I'm meeting up with a friend tonight. We had plans to go out since friday" You stand up, gathering your dirty dishes and silverware. "I'll just put these in the kitchen and then I should get ready."

Caleb watches, his eyes glued to your every move as you carry your dishes to the kitchen. The sway of your hips, the gentle bounce of your hair with each step...it's all seared into his mind.

He forces himself to turn to Gran, to keep up the pretense of a normal conversation. But his mind is elsewhere, already conjuring up a dozen ways he could stop you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caleb stands in your doorway, his tall frame filling the space. His hair is still slightly damp from a recent shower. His arms are crossed over his broad chest as he watches you get ready. His eyes follow your every movement, from the way you brush your long black hair, to the quick application of makeup.

"Did you forget," he says, his voice low and slightly accusatory, "that you had to do the dishes and I had to do the cooking?"

He steps into your room, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, sound. The space suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, with his presence dominating every inch of it.  He reaches out and plucks the hairbrush from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "Here," he says softly, holding the brush. "Let me help you finish getting ready."

You look up at Caleb, a flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you take the hairbrush from his hand. "I didn't forget," you say, your voice a bit sharp. "I just got distracted. Besides, I thought you had more important things to do than keep track of whose turn it is to do the dishes." You turn back to the mirror, running the brush through your hair with more force than necessary. "And I didn't ask for your help," you add, "I think I can handle getting ready on my own."

Caleb watches as you finish brushing your hair, his eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror. He sees the flicker of irritation in your gaze, hears the sharpness in your tone. As you turn to leave, he clears his throat, his voice a low rumble that stops you in your tracks. "You're forgetting something, pipsqueak," he says, a hint of that old teasing to his tone. But there's something darker, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He takes two long strides towards you, closing the distance between your bodies in an instant. His large hands find your waist, strong fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your hips. He pulls you back against his chest, your body molding to the hard planes of his own like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

In the mirror, your eyes meet, locking in a charged gaze. You feel his hands fist the fabric of your skirt. He pulls and tugs, the skirt riding higher and higher on your thighs with each yank of his wrists. The cool air of the room brushes against the newly exposed skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"Caleb..." you protest, your voice a mortified whisper as you feel your skirt being hiked up past your thighs. But he doesn't listen, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror as he exposes you completely.

Your blush deepens as you watch, uncomfortably aroused, as he finally reaches the hem of your skirt. The fabric pools around your waist, leaving your bare cunt on full display in the reflection. The sight of your glistening folds, makes your heart race and your core clench.

Caleb's breath grows heavier, his chest rising and falling more rapidly against your back. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you in place, trapping you against him. His eyes, dark and hungry, rove over your reflection, taking in every intimate detail.

"Were you really planning on going out like this?" he asks, "Or were you just trying to tease me...again?" His fingers flex, digging into your hipbones hard. He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I've told you before, pipsqueak. If you want something...ask for it."

His eyes bore into yours in the mirror, a intensity burning in their violet depths. Ask me, they seem to say. Ask me to touch you to taste you, to claim you again. Beg me to fuck you until you can't walk straight.

He watches as your lips part, your breath coming in short, sharp pants. He waits, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipates your response. Say it, he thinks. Say you want me. Say you need me. Beg me to touch you like I've been dying to.

"I...I..." you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. He smirks, a curve to his lips as he watches you struggle to form words. So cute, so innocent, he thinks. He leans in closer, his teeth nipping your ear as he whispers, "Go on, pipsqueak. Say it."

"Caleb...please" you whimper, your voice barely audible but dripping with desperate need. It's all the encouragement he needs. Caleb reaches down and slowly lowers the zipper of your skirt and it slides down your legs until it pools at your feet, leaving you bare from the waist down. And just as quickly, Caleb makes short work of his own clothes. His shirt joins your skirt on the floor, followed by his jeans and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip.

Before you can do anything he takes your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he leads you to the chair where you sat just moments ago. He sits down, his bare skin warming the cool leather, and pulls you to stand between his spread thighs. The heat of his body envelops you, making your own skin prickle with awareness.

He looks up at you, his eyes glinting with a dark, possessive light as he takes in your reflection . His hands come to rest on your hips, fingers splaying over the bare flesh of your ass as he holds you in place. Mine, his eyes seem to say as they rove over your naked form.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a sensual rumble. "So fucking beautiful. And all mine." His hands slide around to your front, one coming to rest low on your belly while the other cups your mound possessively. "This is what you do to me, baby. This is what you make me want."

Caleb moves his hands to grip your hips once again as he slowly lowers you onto his lap. His cock, hard and thick, slides between your folds, the thick head nudging against your entrance. You feel the heat of him, the pulsing of his flesh against your most intimate place, and it makes your head swim with need.

A moan escapes your lips as he settles you fully in his lap, his thick shaft nestled snugly between your thighs. Your back arches, pressing your breasts out as you throw your head back against his shoulder. Caleb's lips find your neck, pressing hot kisses to the sensitive skin as his hands roam your curves.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your neck, his hips rocking up slightly to grind his cock against your dripping slit. "You feel so fucking good. So hot and wet and ready for me."

Caleb's hands slide up your sides, his fingers skimming over your skin until they reach the hem of your shirt. Without pausing, he tugs it upwards, exposing your flat stomach and the cute little belly button that sits above your cunt but he doesn't stop there, he keeps going, pulling the shirt and your bra up and over your breasts until they spring free, bouncing slightly from the sudden release. Your tits, perfect handfuls are now on full display in the mirror. The cool air of the room makes your nipples tighten and pucker, begging for attention. His hands cup the soft mounds, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he squeezes and kneads. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they're stiff peaks.

"Fuck, look at these perfect tits," Caleb groans, watching your reflection as he plays with your breasts. "They're even more gorgeous than I remember. I can't wait to get my mouth on them, to suck and bite and mark your beautiful skin." He rolls your nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging on the sensitive buds as he rocks his hips up against you. His cock slides between your folds once again.

"Oh god", you whimper, feeling your pussy clench and flutter around nothing. "Oh fuck, Caleb"  Your hips start to move on their own, grinding down against the hard length of him as your body craves more stimulation. The mirror reflects your desperation, your tits bouncing in his hands as he teases and pleases you.

Caleb's voice is a commanding growl in your ear. "Lift your hips, baby. Just a little bit, that's it." You feel his fingers around your throat, his large hand spanning the delicate column of your neck. His other hand slides down your body, over the soft swell of your belly, to wrap around your thigh. He squeezes the supple flesh, his fingers sinking in as he spreads your leg wider, opening you up to him. You feel the cool air against your dripping core, making you shiver.

Caleb takes advantage of your new position to line himself up with your entrance. The thick head of his cock nudges against your folds, slipping between them to catch on your hole. You feel the heat of him, the hard, throbbing flesh pulsing with need.

"Watch, baby," Caleb commands, "Watch as I claim this pretty little cunt. Watch as I make this pretty pussy mine."

He starts to push forward, his hips rocking up as he sinks into you inch by inch. The mirror allows you to see every moment, every second of your joining. You watch, as your body stretches around his thick cock, your walls fluttering and clenching as they struggle to accommodate his size. Caleb's eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and consuming. Mine he thinks, watching your expression morph with pleasure. This is what you were made for, baby. To take my cock, to milk it with this greedy little cunt. His hand tightens around your throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you feel owned, claimed, possessed.

Caleb starts to thrust up into you, his hips rocking and rolling as he drives his thick cock deeper and deeper into your tight, clenching heat. And you find yourself meeting his thrusts, your own hips rolling as you take him in. The mirror shows you every detail of his thick cock disappearing between your thighs, only to reappear coated in your arousal.

Caleb keeps your leg spread wide, his hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. He holds you open, keeping you in place as he fucks into you with deep, powerful strokes. The other hand remains wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your racing pulse.

"Fuck baby," Caleb groans, his voice ragged and rough with lust. "Your pussy feels so fucking good. So hot and tight and perfect." He punctuates each word with a sharp thrust, his pelvis slamming against you as he bottoms out inside you. You can see it, see the way your body swallows him up, see the thick ring of milky white arousal forming at the base of his shaft where he's stretching you open. It's filthy, it's obscene, but it's so fucking hot.

His thrusts become more urgent, more insistent, as he chases his own release. The mirror reflects your bouncing tits, the flesh jiggling and swaying with each powerful surge of his hips. Your mouth is open, soft gasps and whimpers spilling from your lips as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Caleb's eyes are glued to your reflection, watching your every reaction. He sees the way your head lolls back, your eyes glazed over with lust. He sees the string of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. "Fuck, look at you," a surge of pride and possessiveness rushing through his veins. "Look at how much you love taking my cock."

"Tell me, baby, didn't you wear any panties today, just to tease me? To make me want to bend you over and fuck this pussy raw?" Caleb grins wickedly as you nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "That's my girl" he says, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that you deliberately left your pussy bare and exposed, just for him. "Such a naughty little tease, getting me all worked up."

"Keep your legs open for me, baby," Caleb orders, his hand squeezing your thigh harder as he spreads you wider. "I want to watch this pretty cunt as I make you come all over my cock." Then you hear him spit, the cool wetness drips down between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach before dripping onto your pussy. Without wasting a second, Caleb smears the spit around your clit, using it as lubricant. His fingers circle the sensitive nub, rubbing tight, quick circles as he feels your body tensing. Your clit swells under his touch, peeking out from beneath its hood as he strokes and teases and pleasures you. He keeps rubbing, as his hips never stop their rhythm. The mirror shows your body shaking, your tits bouncing, your mouth open in a silent scream as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Caleb feels your scream building, hears the way your breath hitches and catches in your throat. In a flash, he brings the hand that was on your throat up to cover your mouth, silencing your cries before they can escape and alert Gran of your activities.

But then your teeth sink into the flesh of his palm, biting down hard enough to make him hiss in pained surprise. The sudden, sharp sensation sends a jolt of adrenaline through his body, pushing him over the precipice. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body seizing and shaking as ecstasy whites out your mind. Your cunt clamps down around his cock, walls rippling and fluttering as they try to milk him for all he's worth.

The feeling of your pussy spasming around him, combined with the throbbing ache of your bite,its too much for Caleb. With a moan that he muffles against your hair, he hilts himself inside you and lets go. Thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides as Caleb's cock pulses and throbs. His hips jerk and stutter, spurting his seed deep inside your cunt as he fills you with his essence. It seems to go on forever, wave after wave of thick, sticky cum pumping into your hole as Caleb marks you, claims you, makes you his.

As the intense waves of your shared orgasms start to fade, you feel Caleb's lips press soft kisses along the column of your neck. His touch is gentle now, almost reverent.

You can feel the thick mix of your combined releases starting to leak out around where you're joined, your over sensitive flesh twitching at the sensation. Caleb's fingers find the source of the dripping wetness, gathering some of the pearly essence on his fingertips.

"Open up, baby," Caleb whispers as he removes his hand from your mouth. "Taste us. Taste what we made together." His fingers press against your lower lip, smearing the sticky fluid across the soft flesh. Almost unconsciously, you part your lips, allowing him access to your mouth. Caleb takes advantage, slipping his finger past your lips to rest on your tongue. The taste of your combined releases floods your senses, the slightly bitter, salty flavor of his cum mixed with the sweeter, tangier essence of your arousal. It's an intoxicating combination that makes your head swim.

"Fuck, that's so hot," Caleb groans, watching your face intently as you suck on his finger. "Seeing you taste our cum, taste the proof of how good we are together."

He slips out of you making you flinch "You better get ready now, pipsqueak, you don't want to be late for whatever plans you have today. But..." His hand tightens in your hair, tugging lighly.

"...when you come back home to me, I'll be waiting. I'll be here, ready to pick up right where we left off." Caleb's other hand slides down to grip your hip possessively, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. "We only have a few days together, after all. And I plan to make every single second count."

Rafayel's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he navigated through the crowded city streets, slower than necessary. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"You know," he began, voice laced with a touch of impatience but also a hint of something softer, "you could have just stayed home and I would have understood" His finger tapped an erratic rhythm against the wheel, and he sighed. "I just...I wish we had more time together, just the two of us. Without all this..." He waved a hand vaguely at the windshield, as if gesturing to the world beyond the car.

"Tell you what cutie," he said, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes "if you give me a good enough reason, we can turn around right now. Leave all this nonsense behind and find somewhere... more private."

His lips curved into a playful smirk, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you. The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and Rafayel cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised in question. Waiting. Always waiting for your response.

"Nooooo, you actually need to show up this time Rafayel," you say as you looked inside your purse for your lipstick.

"I know, I know," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "You're right, of course. I can't just...skip it." He trailed off, jaw clenched tight.

The light turned green, and Rafayel pressed down on the accelerator, the car lurching forward. He gripped the wheel tighter. "I just...I hate all the pretension. The fake smiles, the insincere compliments..." He shook his head, a look of distaste on his handsome face. "I'd rather spend the time with you, not stuck in some stuffy room filled with people I don't know."

"Have you seen my lipstick? I swear I left it here the last time I used it." You asked still looking through your purse

"Yes, it's back there somewhere..." he murmured. Rafayel watched as you hastily unbuckled your seatbelt, leaning over to rummage through the backseat. He couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the tantalizing curve of your back. Suddenly, you let out a small 'ah!' of triumph and straightened up, holding the tube of lipstick. In doing so, you lose balance for a moment. His eyes widened as he noticed your dress riding up, revealing the tantalizing sight of your bare skin above the seat of your panties... except there were no panties. His foot slipped off the accelerator, the car momentarily slowing.

For a moment, he forgot about the traffic, the show, everything. The world narrowed down to the sight of your exposed skin, the absence of any fabric that should have been there. He swallowed hard, a wave of heat coursed through him, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter to stop his hand from reaching out to touch. He wanted to trail his fingers up the smooth skin of your thigh, to feel the warmth beneath his palm.

"Cutie..." he breathed out, voice low and rough with sudden desire. He tore his gaze away from the tempting view, forcing himself to focus on the road. But he couldn't unsee the image burned into his mind.

Rafayel took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he watched you sit back down and apply your lipstick, oblivious to the effect your little display had on him. He swallowed hard, his pants suddenly feeling far too tight and constricting. He forced his gaze back to the road, but he could still see you in his peripheral vision, the way your lips pursed and pressed together as you applied the color. He imagined tasting that lipstick, tasting you, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Almost there," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He just needed to get through this damn show, and then...then he could focus on indulging in the fantasies running wild through his imagination.

He parked the car in the furthest spot from the gallery entrance, the tires crunching on the gravel as he brought the vehicle to a stop. He turned to you, a grin spreading across his face, eyes glinting with mischief. He reached out, tracing a finger lightly along your jawline, tilting your chin up towards him. His thumb brushed over your newly applied lipstick, smearing the vibrant color slightly.

"Mm, I like this shade," he murmured, voice low and flirtatious. "It reminds me of the color of your lips when I've kissed you breathless...on all of your lips. You see, I remember exactly what you look like, all pink and swollen and glistening, when I've had my face buried between your thighs for hours," his voice was a low, hypnotic rumble. "When I've licked and sucked and teased your clit until you're writhing and begging for release. His hand slid down to your knee, fingers trailing up along your inner thigh, inching higher and higher. His touch was electric, setting off sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. He watched the blush spread across your cheeks, your thighs clenching together at his bold words. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne.His fingers inched higher up your thigh, his touch bold and purposeful. You knew that somehow he had figured out your little secret. The heat in his gaze told you that much.

"Open your legs for me, cutie, let me see those pretty lips again, the ones that are hiding from me right now." His hand slid higher, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin at the apex of your thighs. He didn't touch you directly, not yet, but he was close. So close that you could feel the anticipation building, could feel your core starting to throb with need.

"Come on," he purred, "don't make me wait. I know you're not wearing anything under that dress. I saw a glimpse of paradise back there."

He licked his lips, eyes gleaming with hunger. "Now be a good girl and open up for me, like you did last night when I had you spreading yourself wide open on my tongue."

His breath hitched as you slowly parted your thighs for him, revealing your bare pussy. His eyes darkened with lust at the sight. "Fuck,..." he breathed, voice rough with desire. "Look at you, so pretty and pink and ready for me." His fingers traced teasingly along your slit, not quite touching, just barely grazing your skin.

Rafayel didn't seem to care about the growing crowd in the parking lot. His focus was solely on you, on the sight of your bare cunt glistening in the fading light. He leaned in closer, the leather of his car seat creaking as he pulled it back giving himself more room.

He slid his hands under your thighs, gripping them tightly as he pulled you closer to the edge of your seat. Your dress rode up around your waist, fully exposing your bare, glistening sex to his eyes.

"Wrap your legs around my shoulders," he commanded, settling between your thighs. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you won't care if the whole fucking world sees." His hands gripped your lower back tightly as he pulled you up and forward, your head resting on the armrest, your legs draping over his shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, could smell your intoxicating arousal. It made his cock throb and ache with the need to be inside you.

"Fuck, I can smell how much you want this," he groaned, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "You're fucking drenched. So wet and ready for me." He leaned in closer, his tongue darting out to take a long, slow lick up your slit. He moaned at the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. "Delicious," he murmured, before diving back in for more.

"Oh god, Rafayel!" you gasped, back arching off the seat as his tongue delved deep into your aching core. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight as jolts of electricity raced through your body. His hands kneaded the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against his mouth, his tongue plunging in and out of your soaked pussy.

Rafayel glanced up, taking in the now crowded parking lot. The closest car was a few spaces away, but still within clear view of anyone who cared to look in your direction. He could see people already heading towards the gallery entrance but he was too far gone to care. All he could focus on was the intoxicating taste of you on his tongue, the way your body trembled and quaked beneath his touch.

He licks you again, this time slower, he flattens his tongue and licks you from the bottom up, going particularly slow over your pulsating clit. The pressure builds as he finally does what he knows will be your undoing. His tongue swirled up to your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you loose yourself to him and the thrashing of his tongue on your clit. The coil deep in your stomach curled painfully tight when he sucked your clit into his mouth, a strangled cry escapes you as your body falls over the edge, he plunges two fingers inside of you as you cum, and the bliss is catastrophic. You no longer cared to hold back the scream or to stop your thighs from clamping his head firmly between them.

"That's it, cutie," he praised, voice rough and ragged. "Fucking soak my face. I want everyone to know I'm the one who made you feel this good."

He didn't let up until your body went boneless, slumping back against the seat, chest heaving as you gasped for air. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug and thoroughly satisfied grin on his face. Rafayel quickly tugged your dress down, covering your cunt as he fumbled for his phone on the console between the seats. He put it on speaker and dialed Thomas's number, his thumb hovering over the call button.

Thomas picked up on the second ring, his voice filtering through the car's speakers. "Hello? Rafayel? We were starting to think you wouldn't make it to-"

"Hey, listen," Rafayel interrupted, his voice still rough from his exertions. "I need you to do me a favor. I...I won't be able to make it to the show tonight, something came up." He shot a meaningful glance at your flushed appearance, biting back a smirk.

"Tell everyone I apologize for my absence and that I'll make it up to you all soon. I have to take care of something important" He ended the call abruptly, not giving Thomas a chance to protest, and tossed the phone aside. The engine roared to life as he put the car in gear and drove out of the parking spot, leaving the gallery behind.

"Where are we going?" you asked breathlessly, still trying to catch your breath from the intensity of your orgasm.

Rafayel flashed you a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with renewed lust and desire. "Back to my place. I'm not done with you yet, not by a long shot." He reached over, resting his hand high up on your thigh, fingers teasing the hem of your dress. "I'm going to take my time with you, explore every inch of this gorgeous body. And then, maybe, just maybe I'll give you another screaming orgasm, but this time on my cock."

[writer-freak]

Subby Rafayel and dry humping

“You always tease me,” he whined, his fingers gripping your hips tightly. “You know what it does to me when you look at me like that…”

His voice was breathy, needy, as he pressed closer, his thigh slotting between yours. The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne, the way his lips parted like he was already a little lost in you, it made your heart race.

“Rafayel…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and the way he shivered did something to you.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers trembling slightly as they skimmed over your warm skin. “Please, say my name again…”

Your hips shifted, pressing down against him, and the moment your clothed core dragged against the hard length straining beneath his pants, he let out a sharp, breathy moan, his head tilting back. “Ah—fuck, you—” His hands flexed against your waist, his grip unsteady, as if he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or just let you use him.

“You’re so mean,” he panted, his cheeks flushed as he rocked up against you helplessly. “Teasing me all the time—m-making me like this.” His hips jerked up, seeking more friction, grinding his clothed cock against the damp heat between your legs.

“You’re soaked already,” he whimpered, eyes flickering down between you, watching the way your bodies moved together. “You really wanted this, didn’t you? Oh—” His lashes fluttered as you rolled your hips harder, dragging against him in a way that had him gasping.

One of his hands tangled in your hair, but instead of pulling, his fingers trembled as they curled against your scalp, seeking something to hold onto. His lips brushed over your throat, his breath warm and uneven.

His movements grew more frantic, his grip desperate as he rutted up against you with shameless need. The thick outline of his cock pressed perfectly against you, the friction so intoxicating that it sent you tumbling toward the edge.

“You’re gonna—gonna cum just like this, aren’t you?” His voice cracked, his pupils blown wide, his body trembling against yours. “Please—please, let me feel you…”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails raking against his skin as pleasure overtook you, your body jerking against his as a sharp cry tore from your lips. The moment you fell apart on top of him, Rafayel let out a desperate moan, his hips stuttering against yours before he shuddered, burying his face against your shoulder as he spilled into his pants, body trembling violently beneath you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breaths, his fingers still trembling against your waist.

Then, a whimper, soft, breathless, pleading.

“Please…” His lips brushed against your skin, his voice barely more than a whine. “I—I still want more…”

Love dry humping so much and I needed to write a little something with sub Rafayel so here you go

[sylusvrse]

IMAGINE . . . the lads LIs playing an otome game ?!

what would it be like if the love and deepspace love interests played an otome game in which YOU were the love interest instead? ⸺ heavily HEAVILY inspired by a thread on twt by @/Myaurxra_ on the same prompt!!

zayne who is strictly f2p. i cannot imagine this man spending money on the game. he occasionally plays during his breaks. he listens to the tender moments as background noise while he works. he has your affinity level at about 68 which is the culmination of many months checking in and mostly doing his dailies.

zayne who actually uses the ‘remind me’ feature to help him get some rest. nothing beats your sweet voice telling him he’s working too hard and that he needs to go to bed!!

zayne who seems like he’d be a very casual player who enjoys the sweet, soft cards. however, tomorrow’s catch-22 drops and he is a changed man!! <3

xavier who is somehow incredibly lucky without even trying?? he’s pulling your 5 star memories left and right, early pity. definitely posts his pulls on social media, which is the envy of everyone else.

xavier who enjoys the combat system the most. he clears abyssal chaos and the hunter contest with ease. it comes quite easy to him, the protocores, the substats, the playstyles.

xavier who only pays for the aurum pass, but that’s about it when it comes to his spending. he’s living off a hunter’s salary and can only offer so much to his virtual wife…

rafayel who is glint photobooth’s greatest enemy. he has all of your outfits and accessories unlocked. he didn’t buy those all for nothing. he’s spending hours on glint photobooth and snapshot, capturing your beauty just right. he’d post it on social media like the masterpiece you are <3

rafayel who actually takes the time to play the stories and read the lore. his assistant is calling him, but he couldn’t care less. he needs to know what happens next. he’s laying in bed, kicking around like a schoolgirl with a crush. he’s currently sobbing over your backstory and getting pissed off on your behalf when another character wrongs you.

rafayel who has your affinity level already maxed out. he’s flexing the ring on every outfit he dresses you up in. he’s cleared out all the story content there is to offer, besides the combat levels. he rarely plays the hunter contest, but he occasionally does abyssal chaos to read the stories and interactions.

sylus who is an absolute whale. we all know it. he is R3’ing all of your memories. lost a 50/50? doesn’t matter, his card is already out and ready to be used.

sylus who finds the game to be a rather endearing past time. you’re a welcome break in his busy day. luke and kieran will find him at his desk, looking rather amused as he pokes his phone for maybe the hundredth time tonight.

sylus who sends luke and kieran out to buy merch for him when he’s busy, sending them in his stead to fan events. he advises them to stop at nothing. online bid? he’s already won. limited edition merch item? he got it three weeks before it was even announced with his connections. on his desk, you’ll probably find a small acrylic stand of you by his computer.

caleb who actually has horrible luck. he has most of your standard 5 star memories maxed out, mostly due to losing so many 50/50s. at first he was like “psh. it’s just a game. i won’t have to spend any money.” but, then he lost the 50/50 on the anniversary banner and the flood gates opened. now, he’s willing to drop large amounts of money at a time if it means getting your precious memories.

caleb who takes full advantage of the ‘quality time’ feature. mostly to unlock your workout outfit, but he likes to have you cheering him on by the side while he completes his regimen.

caleb who gets oddly competitive during kitty cards? like he’s about to crash out the moment you cancel out one of his assist cards. his hands are gripping the phone, his palms are sweating, his breath is hitching, he’s grunting in frustration. someone looks over his shoulder to see what the hell is stressing him out so much… you just changed his teacup color from red to blue…

[sofiaswrittendelusions]

“My wife.”

synopsis idea by: @starlitfool 🙏 “y'all remember when caleb had mc pretend to be his girlfriend back in college? i offer now to the caleb girlies council this consideration: mc pretending to be the colonel's wife at some farspace fleet gala/function/thing. thank u and goodnight”

The gala was a spectacle of power and politics, a glittering battlefield where words were weapons and alliances were forged under the weight of duty. Officers and dignitaries wove through the crowd, their conversations laced with veiled threats and rehearsed charm. It was the kind of event Caleb had attended a thousand times before—where appearances mattered more than truth, where strength was measured not in victories but in perception.

But tonight, none of it mattered.

Because you were on his arm.

Draped in elegance, fitting so seamlessly into the role of his wife that it made something dark and possessive curl inside him, something that had never truly left since the first time he heard you call yourself his.

It had started as a necessity, a calculated move—the Colonel’s wife carried more weight than any civilian could, allowed access, turned heads, ensured questions wouldn’t be asked. But it wasn’t the first time.

Years ago, when you were both younger, when his obsession was still something new and raw and barely contained, he had pulled you into his orbit with a simple phrase—play along, sweetheart. You had been surrounded by vultures then too, leering eyes and unwanted attention, and Caleb had hated it. Hated the way they thought they could look at you, let alone speak to you.

So he had intervened.

Wrapped an arm around your waist. Let his gaze burn through anyone foolish enough to challenge his claim. Felt something primal settle deep in his bones when you leaned into him, trusting him to play the part.

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because there was no acting when it came to you.

He had never truly stopped seeing you as his.

And tonight was no different.

His fingers pressed against the small of your back, just firm enough to remind you that he was there, that you belonged beside him. The men he spoke with were high-ranking, powerful in their own right, but none of them held his attention.

Not the way you did.

You shifted slightly, polite smile never faltering as you listened to the conversation, but he felt the way you tensed when someone’s gaze lingered too long.

His grip tightened.

A silent warning.

You exhaled softly, leaning the smallest fraction closer, and it nearly undid him.

He had fought in wars, survived battles that left others broken, but nothing—nothing—unraveled him the way you did.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, meant only for you.

You inhaled sharply.

He felt it against his skin, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. The way you stiffened—not in fear, but in awareness.

And Caleb lived for it.

The night stretched on, a blur of empty pleasantries and strategic conversation, but his focus never wavered. Every time someone so much as glanced in your direction, his hold on you tightened. Every time your gaze flicked to his, searching for something—reassurance? Permission?—he was already there, already watching, already owning the space between you.

By the time the gala ended, he had you pressed against his side, guiding you toward the exit with the same quiet authority he always carried. You let him, falling into step as if it were natural. As if this wasn’t temporary.

As if you were his.

The car was waiting, sleek and dark, windows tinted to keep the outside world from seeing what was his to protect. The door shut behind you, locking the two of you away in the silence of the night.

For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Then—

You frowned slightly, glancing out the window.

“Caleb… this isn’t the ride to my apartment.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk. Not quite not one either.

“I meant our home,” he murmured, voice slow, deliberate.

The words hung between you, thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

He watched the realization settle in, the way your body stiffened beside him, the way your breath hitched.

His gaze was already waiting when you turned to him, violet eyes gleaming in the dim interior.

And then—he leaned in.

Slowly.

A measured, predatory shift, invading your space without hesitation, letting his warmth, his presence, his ownership wrap around you entirely.

“You were my wife all night,” he murmured, voice deceptively soft. “You don’t want to stop now, do you?”

Your lips parted—whether to protest or to agree, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Because your body told him everything.

The way your pulse fluttered at your throat. The way your fingers curled against your lap, as if resisting the urge to reach for him. The way your breath caught when his hand—flesh this time, warm and possessive—tilted your chin just enough to keep you from looking anywhere but at him.

And then, quieter, more intimate—

“My wife wouldn’t leave me alone tonight.” A pause. A slow drag of his gaze down to your lips, then back up. “Would she?”

You swallowed hard.

And Caleb knew.

Knew that he had you again.

Just like before. Just like always.

But this time—

This time, he wouldn’t let you go.

[sylusonychinus]

OKAY BUT WHY DO U HAVE TO MAKE FLO HOT >///////< hear me out......

now fight

[xaviersupernova]

"she's busy rn"

✩°｡⋆ where you prank the lads men texting them "she's busy rn"

including: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus and caleb

cw: mostly crack

a/n: hiii hello this is my first smau i hope u like it :) <3

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you saying you want to quit your job (prank)!

Jobs can be so annoying sometimes and you fantasize on quitting, but you won't actually quit because apparently you need to worry about financial responsibility and all that! But in this universe, you love your job and you just want to prank them!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb

Sylus

Gets so happy. What? You're quitting? That means you can spend more time with him, given his super flexible working hours!

Oh no.. now you're gonna steal the twins away from him even more than you usually do, huh... but he digress.

Quirks an eyebrow when you tell him it's a prank, he'd be lying if he hasn't fantasized about it.

Xavier

"But.. we won't be partners anymore.." "I mean, we'll still be partners but not partners, you know?!"

If you're quitting, then he's quitting too! He joins the Hunters Association only because he gets to work with you anyway! Even though he loves the job too but he can still do it without being tied to HA.

Relieved when you say it's a prank, since he knows how much you actually love your job no matter how tiring it is. Plus, you have him as your partner! He'll fill both your quotas!

Rafayel

GETS SUPPER GIDDY.

Really!? You're quitting your job? Then he's hiring you as his full time bodyguard and you can stay with him 24/7!!! Frowns when you say "No, I'm quitting my job AS your bodyguard!" "What do you mean by that!? Quitting as my bodyguard is not in your contract. 😤"

Feels happy and yet tricked when you say it's a prank... happy because you're staying with him tricked because what do you mean you can't be his 24/7 bodyguard and stay with him all the time!?

Zayne

Took it seriously.

"If that's what you want, then I support you. But can I ask why? Was the workload too much? I did tell you to quit many times because of your health but I always thought you loved it so much so I never really pushed-"

"Zayne, I'm just kidding." "Oh. Now that's the selfish brat I know." "HEY?" Somehow you become the subject of this prank...

Caleb

REALLY? REALLY? YOU CAN STAY IN SKYHAVEN FULL TIME NOW THEN!!!

"I make enough for the both of us so this is amazing! We can spend so much time together and you can finally move in with me! I can cook you breakfast and I can come home for lunch to see you!?"

You did not have the heart to tell him it was a prank.. but you had to.. but you suddenly can't remember why moving to Skyhaven and moving in with him are not the better choice...

[lycheejelli]

Very quick Xavier rant.

———————————————————————

Listen I know Xavier is probably the least popular LI but the mischaracterization of him gets me so mad SO FAST.

I am so tired of seeing hc’s or posts from people that know NOTHING about his character.

I’d rather people just not post about him instead of dumbing his character down.

Like um actually he has more depth than just sleeping and being jealous. If you interacted with his content you’d know that.

And this trend of calling him childlike??? I understand he may look the youngest but he definitely isn’t AND definitely doesn’t act like the youngest.

Now I get it

Xavier isn’t the most perfect

His jealousy is definitely the most immature part of him HOWEVER he doesn’t let it get to a point where he does toxic shit.

Each LI has parts of them that aren’t the most healthy

(Zayne: Suicidal workaholic

Rafayel: Rafayel

Sylus: morally questionable because he literally does crime and beats up and kills ppl

Caleb: Drugs women

Xavier: tends to be jealous) /j

But this man has led a planet.

He was the captain of a time traveling intergalactic crew.

HE’S CENTURIES OLD.

Each one of the boys has amazing writing and character depth. There’s so much to work with.

Can we please put some respect on my man’s name?? 😭

Am I the only one who’s noticed this???

EDIT: YES OMFG like he can teleport. Which is objectively one of the coolest powers in the game and barely anyone mentions it.

[hellinistical]

MORE RAFAYEL DOING MEHENDI/HENNA FOR MC CAUSE I SAID SO AND I NEED IT SO BAD and i stayed up the other day doing my own-

12:05

“You’re terrible,” you whisper, biting back another laugh as Rafayel’s shoulders shake with silent amusement.

His short lavender hair falls over his eyes as he tries to steady his hand, but the grin tugging at his lips makes it impossible. “You started it,” he murmurs, barely holding in a chuckle. “How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re saying things like that?”

He adjusts his grip on the henna cone, eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. You can see the faint crease between his brows, the same one he gets when he’s lost in a painting. His fingers, still smudged with traces of dried paint from earlier, are steady despite the occasional tremor of suppressed laughter.

“You know,” you say, watching him work, “we could’ve just looked at Pinterest.”

Rafayel scoffs, shaking his head as he continues drawing. “Absolutely not,” he says, like the mere suggestion offends him. “I don’t need some—what is it? Aesthetic inspo board? I have this.” He gestures vaguely at his temple with the tip of the henna cone.

You snort. “Right. Your genius artistic vision.”

“Exactly,” he says smugly. “Now hold still, or I’ll ruin my masterpiece.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress another laugh as he leans in, adding delicate swirls along your fingers. The scent of henna fills the space between you, earthy and rich. His touch is light, almost careful, and despite his stubborn refusal to follow a guide, the pattern is undeniably beautiful.

Swirls of waves and roses adorned your palm, wrist, fingers, and the back of your hand, delicate and intricate despite his stubborn insistence on freestyling. You turn your hand slightly, admiring the way the deep brown henna contrasts against your skin. Rafayel studies it too, his eyes tracing over every detail before landing on the small signature he had tucked into the curve of a wave—subtle but unmistakably his.

It’s quiet.

And then.

“You’re really pretty, you know.”

His voice is soft, almost casual, but you catch the way his ears turn pink, betraying him. He’s still looking at your hand, but there’s something nervous in the way his fingers twitch, as if debating whether to pull away or linger just a second longer.

Your heartbeat stumbles. The playful teasing from earlier suddenly feels like a thin veil over something heavier, something unspoken between you.

“Are you blushing?” you ask, leaning in just enough to make his eyes snap up to yours.

Rafayel huffs, rolling his eyes, but the pink on his ears deepens. “Shut up. And quit moving. You'll mess it up.” "You're a fast learner."

Your free hand moves his hair out of his face.

And he doesn’t pull away.

[whosashan]

Hi! I love your LADS fics <3 if u dont mind i would love to know how youthink each LI do domestic things like grocery shop w mc, thanks <3

The Rhythm of Everyday

A/N: Hi there! I truly appreciate your kind words. I apologize for the delay in responding—life has been quite hectic with my final exams approaching. That said, I hope you enjoy!

Also, I feel like they might be a bit ooc, so if that's the case - then I apologize 😔

Xavier

Ever since moving in with Xavier, even the simplest errands had taken on an air of unpredictability. Grocery shopping was no exception.

Determined to finally stock the fridge, you clutched a neatly written shopping list as you walked into the store, intent on sticking to it. Xavier, on the other hand, had a more relaxed approach—one that involved significantly less planning and significantly more mischief.

It started small. A bag of chips appearing in the cart when you weren’t looking. Then a carton of ice cream. A six-pack of soda. You narrowed your eyes as you plucked out the offending items, holding one up in mild accusation.

"I didn’t make this list just for fun, you know."

Xavier merely smirked, his blue eyes filled with quiet amusement. "We need essentials."

"Essentials," you echoed, unimpressed, holding up a family-sized pack of cookies.

"Exactly." His voice was light, teasing, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your stomach flip—like he was enjoying this little back-and-forth just as much as he enjoyed sneaking things into the cart.

What started as minor offenses quickly spiraled into an all-out game. You tried to stay vigilant, but Xavier was faster, smoother, slipping snacks and treats into the cart with the precision of a seasoned thief. You had no choice but to fight back, slipping in a bar of chocolate when he turned to examine the pasta aisle.

"I saw that," he murmured, his voice low with amusement. His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile as he plucked the chocolate from the cart and placed it back on the shelf.

You pouted in protest. "Oh, but your three bags of chips get to stay?"

"I work in subtlety," he replied smoothly, nudging the cart forward. "You, on the other hand, have all the stealth of a toddler hiding candy under a pillow."

You gasped in exaggerated offense, swiping the chocolate back and tossing it in with a triumphant smirk. "Then I suppose I’ll have to improve my technique."

By the time you reached the snack aisle, your little competition had escalated into a full-fledged debate over which brand of candy was superior. You stood your ground, arguing passionately, while Xavier, ever laid-back, leaned against the cart with his arms crossed, letting you talk—only to counter with a single, calm statement that completely dismantled your argument.

"You realize we could just get both, right?"

You huffed, grabbing both bags and tossing them into the cart. And somehow, as if by unspoken agreement, you both continued, plucking item after item from the shelves until nearly half the aisle sat stacked in your cart.

"You’re a bad influence," you muttered as you surveyed the damage.

Xavier merely tilted his head. "And yet, you’re the one who just grabbed another pack of cookies."

Before you could argue, he did something entirely typical of him—pushed the cart forward, only to grab your wrist and, with surprising ease, hoist you into the basket, careful not to cause any damage to your groceries or you.

You let out a small yelp, gripping the sides as he casually maneuvered the cart down the aisle. "Xavier!"

"What? You fit." He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable as always, but you caught the slight quirk at the corner of his lips. "Besides, this is efficient. You can’t take things out of the cart if you’re in it."

You wanted to argue, but between the sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the warmth of his hand resting briefly on your knee to steady you, you found yourself grinning instead.

That was, until you locked eyes with an unimpressed store employee.

Xavier slowed the cart to a stop, gaze shifting to the employee, then back to you. The moment of tense silence stretched—before you both burst into laughter. You scrambled out of the cart as Xavier muttered something about "killing all the fun," and the two of you made a swift retreat to checkout before you got kicked out entirely.

By the time you stepped out into the cool evening air, arms laden with overstuffed grocery bags, Xavier glanced at you with that signature, unreadable expression of his. And then, with no warning, he took off running.

"Xavier—" You barely had time to react before instinct kicked in, and you were sprinting after him, the two of you racing down the quiet streets toward home, breathless with laughter.

Your carefully planned grocery trip had turned into something else entirely. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Unapologetically fun. But then again, that was life with Xavier.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zayne

You stirred in bed, feeling the space beside you empty, the sheets cool where warmth should have been. Zayne had already left for work, but his scent still lingered—a mix of clean soap and the faintest trace of a scent that's just him. Instinctively, you reached for his pillow, pulling it close in half-conscious longing. That’s when you noticed it—a small sticky note resting beside it, the crisp handwriting unmistakably his.

"I made you breakfast. It's on the kitchen counter. Remember to take care of yourself. I love you."

The simple words sent warmth through your chest. Zayne wasn’t one for extravagant displays of affection, nor was he particularly expressive when it came to feelings. But it was in the little things—like these notes, like the way he always made sure you ate, like the way he remembered details most would overlook—that his love showed through.

You stretched and finally climbed out of bed, padding into the kitchen to find the breakfast he’d prepared. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the toast golden, and the coffee just the way you liked it. As expected, everything tasted incredible—sometimes you wondered if there was anything Zayne couldn’t do.

As you ate, your eyes landed on another note stuck to the fridge.

"Check the fridge."

Curious, you opened it and were immediately greeted by the sight of a neatly placed slice of your favorite cake, wrapped carefully in a container with a fork resting beside it. You couldn’t help but grin as you took it out, snapping a quick photo before sending him a message.

"Spoiling me, aren't you?" You attached a picture of yourself mid-bite, looking perhaps a little too pleased.

Zayne’s response was nearly immediate. "It is only natural for me to take care of my lover."

A simple statement, and yet, it sent warmth creeping up your neck. Even after all these years, he still had a way of making you blush without even trying.

The day carried on, and you went about your usual routine, tidying up a little before getting ready to step out for errands. As you slipped your coat on, your fingers brushed against something in the pocket. Frowning slightly, you reached in and pulled out yet another note.

"Remember to dress accordingly to the weather."

A soft laugh escaped you as you shook your head. He must have left this here last night, anticipating that you’d rush out without checking the forecast. Peeking out the window, you realized it was colder than expected—of course, Zayne had been right. You sighed, grabbing a scarf before stepping out, a smile still tugging at your lips.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and by the time you returned home, you were met with the familiar sight of Zayne’s neatly arranged shoes by the door, signaling his return. You found him in the living room, his tie slightly loosened, his posture still composed despite the long hours he’d likely endured.

"You’re home," you murmured, leaning against the doorframe.

His gaze lifted from the book he was reading, his expression as neutral as ever. "I am. Did you eat properly today?"

You smirked, walking over and settling beside him. "I did. Thanks to my very considerate boyfriend."

Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion softer than words, yet unmistakably there. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion of the day melt away in the quiet comfort of his presence.

A moment passed before he spoke again, his voice low, careful. "Did you like the cake?"

You tilted your head up to look at him, your smile turning teasing. "Are you fishing for compliments now?"

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to deny it, but instead, he simply sighed, shaking his head. "I am simply ensuring you were satisfied."

You chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. "It was perfect. Just like you."

For a moment, he said nothing—just exhaled, eyes closing briefly as if he was letting himself absorb your words. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he murmured:

"Good."

And that, with Zayne, meant more than a thousand words ever could.

Rafayel

Laundry day with Rafayel was never just laundry day.

It started simply enough—sorting through the mountain of clothes that had mysteriously accumulated over the week. You had just finished separating the whites from the colors when Rafayel waltzed into the room, barefoot, a loose button-up hanging off his shoulders in that effortless, disheveled way of his.

He took one look at the scene before him and let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest like you had personally delivered a fatal wound.

"You started without me?" he whined, flopping dramatically onto the nearest pile of clothes. "Cutie, I thought we were in this together."

You snorted, tossing a sock at him. "You say that like you actually planned on helping."

"I was going to!" he defended, sitting up. "But now you've ruined my motivation. My artistic spirit is wounded." He pointedly rolled onto his stomach, chin resting on his hands, watching you with an exaggerated pout. "You should be making it up to me, not assaulting me with socks."

"You are literally lying on dirty laundry, Rafayel. That’s not exactly poetic."

He gasped again, as if personally offended by the very suggestion. "How dare you? Everything I do is poetic!"

Shaking your head, you grabbed a handful of warm clothes from the dryer and began folding. Rafayel, of course, made no move to help. Instead, he idly played with the hem of a shirt before suddenly holding it up with an exaggerated grin.

"Ah-ha! Finally, my masterpiece is complete!"

You blinked. "What?"

He slipped the shirt over his head with a flourish, the fabric way too tight for him. "You see, love, I have transcended fashion. This? This is avant-garde."

You stared at him, deadpan. "That’s my hoodie."

"Our hoodie," he corrected, sauntering over to steal another shirt from your pile and drape it over his shoulder like some kind of runway model. "Face it, darling, all your clothes look better on me."

"You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met."

"And yet," he purred, leaning in dangerously close, "you love me."

You sighed, but you didn’t argue. He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before finally—finally—deciding to be useful.

Sort of.

Because, of course, Rafayel didn’t fold clothes like a normal person. No, he dramatically shook out every single shirt, twirling them through the air before attempting what could only be described as the worst folding technique you had ever seen.

You groaned. "That’s not how you fold a shirt."

"Ah, but is there truly a right way to fold a shirt?" he mused, lifting one like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe. "What is folding, but the physical manifestation of conformity?"

You grabbed the shirt from his hands, folding it properly in two swift motions. "It’s this. This is folding."

He let out a scandalized gasp. "You just destroyed art."

"Rafayel."

"Fine, fine," he sighed, plopping down beside you. But then his gaze flickered with something mischievous.

Before you could react, he grabbed a sock from the pile and tossed it at you. You barely dodged before retaliating with a towel.

And just like that, the war began.

Socks flew. Shirts were used as shields. Rafayel dived behind the laundry basket, dramatically crying out, "You betray me, cutie!" when you landed a particularly good hit. Eventually, he tackled you onto the warm pile of unfolded clothes, pinning your wrists above your head with a victorious smirk.

"Yield," he murmured, voice dipping into something softer, something almost sincere.

You swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how close he was, of the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"...We still have laundry to finish," you muttered.

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming. "You’re so practical. Can’t we stay like this a little longer?"

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers curled slightly under his hold. "Five minutes."

Rafayel grinned. "Deal."

And if the laundry still wasn’t done hours later… well, that was just another beautiful tragedy in his book.

Sylus

The first time Sylus attempted to braid your hair, you thought you were about to lose a chunk of your scalp.

“Hold still,” he grumbled from behind you, fingers threading through your strands with the delicacy of a man who had definitely never done this before.

“I am holding still,” you shot back. “You’re just yanking like you’re tying up a hostage—ow!”

He exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Well, excuse me, princess,” he drawled, tugging a little harder just to be a menace. “Didn’t realize I was dealing with such delicate conditions.”

You huffed, swatting at his knee. “You volunteered for this, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I was under the impression that braiding hair wasn’t some arcane ritual requiring years of training.”

“You could’ve just let me do it myself.”

"And miss the chance to watch you suffer? Not a chance."

Despite his relentless teasing, though, he actually kept trying. You caught him watching tutorials on his phone when he thought you weren’t looking, muttering under his breath about over-under techniques and damn YouTube instructors talking too fast.

And after a few weeks of unsolicited (but secretly welcomed) practice, you found yourself sitting in front of the vanity, Sylus standing behind you, fingers surprisingly deft as they worked through your hair.

"Huh," he mused, his breath ghosting over the top of your head. "Not bad."

You blinked at your reflection, reaching up to touch the braid. It was clean, even, woven with precision—shockingly well-done.

"Sylus," you said slowly, turning to look at him. "You actually got good at this."

He smirked, arms crossing over his chest. "I can be gentle when needed, kitten."

You narrowed your eyes, pointing a finger at him. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, here you are, willingly letting me touch your hair," he shot back, smug.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. Sylus was like this—sharp words, endless sarcasm, always keeping his true intentions tucked away beneath layers of teasing. But you knew better. You knew the quiet effort he put into things like this, the way he never did anything half-heartedly—not when it came to you.

"Fine," you sighed dramatically, tilting your head in mock defeat. "Guess I’ll just have to keep you around as my personal hairstylist."

Sylus snorted, hands already reaching to undo the braid, just so he could redo it better. "Didn't expect anything less from you, princess."

And as much as he teased, as much as he grumbled, you had no doubt that this would become a new routine—because Sylus, for all his rough edges, was the kind of man who showed his love not through words, but through every little, unspoken action.

Even if it meant begrudgingly mastering the art of braiding, just to spoil you a little more.

Caleb

It started as a joke.

You had been curled up on the couch, flipping through old photos when you stumbled across one from years ago—an old, grainy snapshot of you and Caleb, tangled up in a mess of blankets and pillows, grinning like idiots in the dim glow of a flashlight.

A pillow fort.

You snorted, nudging Caleb’s arm with your foot where he sat beside you, one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch. “Remember this?”

Caleb glanced at the photo, and something flickered in his expression—fondness, amusement, something else you couldn’t quite name. Then, slowly, he smirked.

“Oh, Pipsqueak,” he drawled, tilting his head to look at you. “Are you saying you wanna build one now?”

You scoffed. “I never said that.”

“But you want to.”

“I do not—”

“You so do.”

And that was how, ten minutes later, you found yourself watching Caleb steal every blanket and pillow in the apartment with entirely too much enthusiasm.

He had always been bigger than you—towering over you even as kids—but now, with broad shoulders and an easy confidence to match, he looked even more ridiculous draping a fuzzy pink blanket over the top of the fort like it was some grand architectural achievement.

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” you muttered, watching as he wedged a chair into position for support.

Caleb flashed you a grin. “You say that now, but someone was always the first to throw a tantrum if our forts fell apart.”

Heat rushed to your face. “I was ten!”

“You were dramatic.” He reached over and ruffled your hair, and when you swatted at his hand, he caught your wrist with ease, tugging you closer just to be a menace.

“Still are, actually,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned in. “Kind of cute, though.”

You scowled, pushing at his chest. “Let go.”

Chuckling, he finally released you, settling down inside the finished fort with an exaggerated sigh. The fairy lights you had strung up inside cast everything in a soft golden glow, the air warm and filled with the scent of fabric softener and him.

After a moment, you crawled in after him, adjusting the pillows before flopping down beside him. “Alright, not bad,” you admitted.

“Not bad?” Caleb repeated, raising a brow. “This is my best work yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but the fondness in your chest was undeniable. The last time you’d done this, you’d been kids—sneaking flashlights under blankets, whispering secrets and bad jokes late into the night.

“…Feels kind of nice,” you murmured. “Like old times.”

Caleb’s expression shifted—softer now, something warm flickering behind his gaze. His arm curled around you without hesitation, pulling you into his side, his touch firm but easy.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice a little different now, a little rougher. “But this time, I don’t have to leave when morning comes.”

Your heart skipped.

Because he was right. Back then, your forts had always ended with him sneaking back to his room before sunrise. But now?

Now, he wasn’t going anywhere.

You swallowed, curling into him slightly, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. Caleb's hand settled at your waist, squeezing just enough to make you squirm, feeling ticklish.

Your face burned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And, okay—maybe you didn’t. Especially not when he kissed the top of your head, his voice a little quieter when he added,

“…Love you, Pipsqueak.”

And in the glow of the fort, in the warmth of his arms, you smiled.

[skaiylus]

Love and Deepspace - Valentines Day (Fluff)

A/N : yes I'm a few days late sorry <3. There is some clear bias in Sylus's 🤣. I am still new to Love & Deepspace so they are definitely OOC.

Sylus – A Night of Hidden Truths

The city becomes a blur of neon lights as Sylus leads you through a hidden passageway. You weren’t sure where you were going - but with Sylus, that was nothing new.

"Trust me," he murmured, his grip firm yet careful as he guided you up a rusted fire escape. The cold wind nipped at your skin, but the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to keep you steady.

At the top, the city stretched out before you—Linkon City in all its chaotic beauty. The rooftop was secluded - a stark contrast to the bustling streets below.

"I used to come here alone," Sylus admitted, leaning against the railing. You turned to face him, the usual teasing smirk on his lips softer tonight.

"And you brought me here because…?" you prompted, crossing your arms.

"Because I wanted a night without masks. Just you and me. No expectations. No running."

Your heart clenched at the rare vulnerability in his voice.You stepped closer, placing your hand over his

"Then let’s not run."

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a quiet hum of approval, he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"Close your eyes."

"Sylus, if this is one of your cryptic surprises—"

"Just trust me please sweetie? " he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

You sighed but obeyed, feeling the gentle tug of his hand as he guided you forward. The air smelled faintly of fresh roses and something sweet—chocolate, maybe?

"Okay. Open them."

Your breath hitched.

The rooftop was completely transformed. A pathway of softly glowing lanterns led to a cozy, candlelit setup—a plush blanket spread out, trays of food, and an array of neatly wrapped presents . A bouquet of your favorite flowers rested at the center.

"Sylus…"

You turned to him, but he was already watching you—eyes darker than the night yet filled with something soft, unguarded.

"This is…" You swallowed. "You really did all this for me?"

"I had some help," he admitted. "You deserve more you know - I'd give you the whole world if you asked"

A warm breeze brushed past, carrying the faint sound of city life below, but here, in this moment, it was just the two of you. Sylus sat down, pulling you between his legs, your back resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, strong and secure.

"You should know something," he murmured against your hair.

"Hmm?"

"You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine." His lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You keep saying that."

"Because I need you to believe it."

You turned slightly, enough to see the undeniable sincerity in his gaze. And then—he kissed you. Slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way you tasted.

When he pulled away, a rare smile—genuine, without any teasing— graced his lips.

"Happy Valentines Day, Sweetie."

Just as you were about to say something, a small flutter of wings caught your attention. Perched on the rooftop railing was Mephisto, Sylus’ ever-loyal bird companion. But this time, there was something glinting in its beak—a ring, adorned with a deep red stone.

Sylus, still holding you close, simply chuckled. You turned back to him, eyes wide, heart racing.

Was this what you thought it was?

Sylus smirked, but there was something different in his expression now—a quiet certainty, a promise.

"So…" he drawled, plucking the ring from Mephisto’s beak, twirling it between his fingers.

"How do you feel about forever?"

Rafayel – Painted in Love

"Close your eyes."

You sighed dramatically but obeyed. "If this is another one of your ‘trust exercises,’ I —"

"Shhh,"

The scent of oil paint lingered in the air, a mixture of fresh canvas and something distinctly him. You heard him move, adjusting something before he finally spoke again.

"Open."

Your breath hitched as you saw the painting in front of you. It wasn’t just a simple portrait but rather a masterpiece. The soft glow of your expression, the hidden laughter in your eyes, the way your hand reached out as if grasping for something just out of frame… It was you, seen through Rafayel’s eyes.

"Rafayel…"

"You like it?" he asks casually leaning against the table with a smirk.

"Like it? Raf, it’s… beautiful."

He pushed off the table, stepping closer until he was just a breath away.

"I only paint things that matter to me."

Your heart pounded as his fingers traced a stray streak of paint on your cheek, his touch lingering.

"So… what does that make me?" you whispered.

His lips curved into a knowing smile. "What do you think?"

And when he kissed you, slow and deliberate, like the brush strokes of his painting, you had your answer

Zayne – A Prescription for Love

"An arcade?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the bright neon lights blinking above you.

"Doctor, this is very uncharacteristic of you."

"You once said Valentine’s Day should be fun and not stressful. I figured this was preferable to another restaurant dinner." Zayne adjusted his glasses, looking unamused, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes.

"So you do listen when I ramble." You grinned, nudging his arm playfully.

He ignored your teasing, holding out a token. "Pick a game. "

After several failed attempts on the claw machine —on both sides—you somehow managed to win a small plush cat. Grinning you hold it up proudly to show him.

Zayne huffed, crossing his arms. "Statistically, the machine is designed to fail at least—" He stopped mid-sentence when you pressed the plush into his hands.

"Here. A gift. From your incredibly thoughtful and wonderful Valentine’s date."

He blinked, staring at the tiny cat as if it were a foreign object.

"You’re giving this to me?"

"Of course. You need something cute in your life. Maybe in your office? ."

Zayne looked at you then, and for once, his usual guarded expression melted away. His fingers curled around the plush as if it were something precious. His gaze softened, filled with something warm and unreadable.

"I already have that," he murmured, his voice quieter now, more intimate.

Before you could formulate a witty comeback, Zayne stepped closer, his hand tilting your chin up gently.

His touch was precise, deliberate—just like him—but when his lips met yours, the kiss was anything but calculated. It was slow, lingering, filled with an affection he rarely put into words.

When he finally pulled away, he let his forehead rest against yours for a moment, exhaling softly. Then, a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You should win me prizes more often."

You laughed, still a little dazed. "Are you saying I need to bribe you for affection?"

"Not at all," he said smoothly, tucking the plush into his coat pocket before lacing his fingers through yours.

"But if it means I get to kiss you again, I’m not above a little incentive."

Xavier – Dancing Among the Stars

"A spaceship?" you echoed in disbelief as Xavier led you onto the deck of a high-tech vessel docked just outside the city.

"You wanted a unique date," he said with a wink, casually flipping switches on the control panel.

"Thought we could do something different."

Before you could fully process what was happening, the ship’s thrusters roared to life. The world below blurred into streaks of light, and then—silence. Outside the window, space stretched endlessly before you, a vast sea of glittering stars, nebulas swirling in vibrant hues. It was breathtaking, unlike anything you had ever seen.

You turned to Xavier, wide-eyed, your breath stolen by the sheer wonder of it all. "You… stole a spaceship for me?"

He grinned, leaning back against the control panel with that signature devil-may-care charm.

"'Borrowed' is a better word. No one’s using it right now."

"Xavier!"

"Relax, darling ." He chuckled, reaching for your hand, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns over your palm.

"I just wanted to give you a view no one else could."

His response was rather nonchalant but beneath it was something deeper, something unspoken.

Your gaze flickered back to the window, the stars blinking like scattered diamonds, the cosmic dust shimmering in soft waves of light.

"This is crazy," you murmured, unable to look away.

"You knew what you were signing up for when you fell for me." His voice was lower now, smooth as velvet. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The universe stretched out behind him, but all you could see was him—his tousled hair, the mischief in his eyes, the way he was looking at you like you were the most mesmerizing thing in the cosmos.

"Regrets?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "None."

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "Good."

And then he kissed you.

It was different this time—unrushed, lingering, like he had all the time in the universe to memorize the feel of your lips against his. The stars outside blurred, forgotten, as warmth spread through you, as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. When he finally pulled away, his breath ghosted against your lips, his hands still holding you as if he had no intention of letting go.

"You know," he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow line along your jaw, "space is beautiful, but even galaxies don’t compare to you."

Your heart pounded. "Xavier—"

He smirked, eyes twinkling like the very stars outside. "What? I’m just saying, if someone told me you hung the stars yourself, I’d believe them."

Your face heated, and he only grinned, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

"You’re ridiculous," you muttered, trying to look away, but he caught your chin again, his expression suddenly softer, more sincere.

"I mean it," he said, voice dropping to something quieter. "Out here, in all this endless space, you’re still the only thing I want to get lost in."

And just like that, the universe no longer felt so vast.

Taglist (I think this is the most updated please feel free to send me an ask/dm/fill out my Google form to be added/removed <3)

@buzzyboi79 @0lissa0 @nishikina @bakugosgorl @bakugosbratx @aomi04 @dabis0bitch @bakubabeyy @keisurou @hannas16 @namjoonswifeyy @neko-loogi @stormcloudsbrewing @nymphoheretic @gently-folded-paper-cranes @shoutascoffeepot @slutfor-fictionalmen @dreamcastgirl99 @effy_2000 @sparkyvibes @hotgreenteea

[euriiverse]

If you guys find me being manipulated by a lemurian sea god, luring me in with his siren voice, DO NOT SAVE ME. I am exactly where I want to be.

Can we talk about the ✨Range ✨ of Rafayel’s VA for a moment?

Not sure if anyone feel the same way but Rafayel’s voice in the new event is so freaking fantastic. He’s a completely different person from our Raf in the main timeline

And he’s so fucking hot

And I just…. Can’t get enough of how amazing his EN VA is 😩

The way his VA brings out different versions of Rafayel to life and always delivers such a variety in his tones and emotions is just… Top-tier

His EN VA is my absolute favorite out of all the Li (alongside Sylus’s)

I make a video showing different versions of Rafayel here please just put on your earphones and listen to it. It’s so so amazing

He’s such a perfect embodiment of a Siren. I can’t get enough of his voice in every version of him

[rcvcgers]

A Thousand Miles

this is how i would imagine the boys would react to "a thousand miles" by vanessa carlton while in the car!

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: none!

author's note: my sister turned this song on in the car today so of course i had to make a post about it!

Sylus

Sylus knows how much you love listening to music. He couldn’t stand to see you disappointed whenever you couldn’t listen to your playlist whenever you went on joyrides together.

So when he picked you up from your apartment with brand new helmets with bluetooth audio, Sylus knew he was the best boyfriend ever by your squeals and the way you peppered kisses all over his face.

He made sure your helmet had cat ears on it too because you’re his kitten.

Sylus chuckled as you jumped for joy, struggling to tighten the straps of your helmet as you swipe through your endless list of playlists.

Sylus helped you onto the bike, absolutely loving the way your body molded to his. He guided your arms around his torso, placing your hands on his abdomen just the way he likes it.

Ten minutes into your joyride is when the song comes on.

Sylus’s body goes frigid for a moment, having to listen closely as the piano notes rang through his ears. He didn’t even notice as your hands moved up his chest, gripping his pecs.

You sang along to the song and very innocently squeezed his pecs along to the beat of the chorus. You even alternated between the right and the left because you were in a silly goofy mood.

A smirk formed on his lips when he heard you singing the lyrics, “cause I need you, and I miss you!”

You need him? Well, who is he to say no to his kitten?

His grip on the throttle tightened, his fist turning it as his motorcycle lunged forward, weaving through traffic so he can show you just how much he needs and misses you too.

Zayne

Zayne is arguably one of the best drivers on the road. He doesn’t speed and he always makes sure to use his blinker when changing lanes.

He knows how much you hate it when he goes the speed limit, knowing that everyone in the world goes at least 5 miles over it.

That’s how you two settled into a fun routine of you putting on music and trying to get Zayne to break and sing with you. It hasn’t happened yet, though, but it doesn’t make you any less determined to make him crack!

“Alright, Zayne,” you smiled as you landed on the perfect song, “gird your loins because I’m going to get you to break!”

Zayne raised an eyebrow and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. His face remained stoic as the beginning piano notes flowed through the car’s speakers.

Really? This is your song? He shook his head and knew that this was the easiest challenge you’ve brought to him. He listened as you belted out the lyrics, matching the dramatics and tone of the song.

At one point, you even held your fist to his mouth as if it were a microphone. Zayne didn’t give in, though, and remained stoic as he weaved through the Linkon traffic.

What got him to break, though, was the beat of the song. It was…appealing to him. He liked the beat and how they repeated in a predictive order. He didn’t even realize that his finger was tapping against the steering wheel.

You gasped and pointed at him. You passed the music as he rolled his eyes, looking away.

“Did I manage to break the Dr. Zayne?”

“It seems like you have, my love.”

Xavier

Xavier was knocked out in the passenger seat of your shared car. After a long day of fighting Wanderers and arguing with Tara about who gets the honor of dealing with all the paperwork (which Xavier has admitted to never doing during his time at the Association), he was slumped to say the least.

You quietly played music to pass the time, opting to drive around just a bit longer so Xavier can get as much sleep as he can before, well, falling asleep yet again in your bed.

You held back an excited squeal when the song came on. You haven’t heard it in years! It brought back so many happy memories for you.

You gently turned the volume knob to the side, the volume increasing ever so slightly, as the singer’s voice sang the lyrics. You hummed along, popping your shoulders up and down, containing your giggles. When the chorus kicked in, you couldn’t help but sing along!

“And now I wonder…if I could fall, into the sky, do you think time, would pass me by?”

You turned your head and looked over at Xavier, who stared at you with those big blue eyes of his. It shocked you, though, and the car swerved before you quickly gained control of it.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said, looking out the window and at the moon, crossing his arms over his chest as he gets comfortable in his seat.

“What doesn’t make sense?” You followed up, glancing his way as you drove the car back to your apartment.

“How does one ‘fall’ into the sky? That’s not how gravity works.” Your snort earned a half-glare from him. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I don’t think she meant it literally, baby!”

“Oh…well that’s just lazy songwriting.”

Rafayel

Rafayel wanted to be the only one in charge of your weekend plans. He needed it to be perfect for you! Rafayel had the very bright idea of renting a convertible, since the city was known for its coastal views along the highway.

So he put you in charge of the weekend playlist!

Rafayel helped you into the passenger seat of the convertible, quickly making his way to the driver side. The two of you decided to buy silly sunglasses for each other from a local store for your scenic car trip along the coast.

Rafayel got you a pair with obscenely large lenses and the frames were bedazzled with red and purple stones. You got him a pair of children’s sunglasses that were way too small for his face with shark fins that poked from the lenses.

“This is an insult to sharks,” he grumbled, the car speeding towards the highway.

You flicked through the songs on your playlist, trying to find the perfect song to start off the drive. You clicked it when you found it, a smile growing on your face when Rafayel gasped, looking over at you.

It was your song. Cheesy, yes, but it’s oh so good.

You and Rafayel belted out the lyrics and put the volume on full blast, your hair flying with the wind. He pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, soaring to top speeds.

It wasn’t long until sirens rang from behind you. The encounter ended with Rafayel getting a hefty speeding ticket. He looked over at you, shark sunglasses still on his face when he said, “sharks are always at the scene of the crime. Never forget that, cutie.”

Caleb

Your local movie theater was doing a weekend romcom extravaganza and Caleb decided to buy you tickets for a showing of your favorite movie. He showed up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and another bouquet of your favorite candy.

Were your jacket pockets and purse going to be filled with said candy? Yes. Absolutely. But Caleb was going to help you shove his box of MilkDuds into an empty crevice! So it was worth it.

He parked in a spot far away from the entrance and walked to your side of the car. You sat with the candy bouquet in your lap, beaming at him. The radio played in the background and he rested his forearm the open car door, leaning down.

“You ready, pip-squeak?” Caleb mused with a smile. You nodded and handed the bouquet to him.

“Stuff me!”

The two of you spent the next five minutes shoving bags and small boxes of candy into every pocket you had. M&Ms went in your jean pockets while mini Reeses were tucked inside the sleeve of your jacket. You stood in a t-pose while Caleb slipped more and more candy into your clothing.

The song on the radio was catchy and the two of you found yourself singing along, the lyrics echoing off the parking garage walls. You swayed your hips, dodging as he tried to slip red licorice into your pants.

“Stay still for me, pip-squeak!” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and obeyed, glancing at the clock in his car.

“Shit! Caleb, we’re late!” You gasped and he popped right up, scooping you into his arms as he ran towards the movie theater doors.

[everythingseasoning]

Rafayel’s Big Dumb Doe Doll Eyes are feeding the fire in my body

Side note: I don’t own this memory! It’s from an edit.