#lads xavier

[dreameffectss]

A Photographer's worst nightmare LOL

I just know xav would be glowing so bright on his wedding day he'd ruin all the pics and yes that is jeremiah being blinded next to him LMAO

HAPPY WEDDING DAY!!!! Hope everyone's able to get the memories they want!!! 🥳🥳🥳

[sweetcalebb]

Reader who can’t cum pretty please 🙏

Squirtings good tho~

LADS men helping you squirt ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

a/n: idk how everyone out there does these kinda prompts without it sounding like copy paste 😿 i have a newfound respect for u guys. I TRIED! and ik these were fast paced. sorry. also, did research, and u CAN squirt w out cumming!

context: you have a condition (medical or it's just hard, you decide)in which you can't come. you tell the boys and they insist they can take care of you <3

p.s. idk rafayel that well 😞 and i had another request similar to this one "they make you squirt for the first time I beg of thee <33" if that was u and u still want that after this pls let me know!

Caleb <3 !

Caleb lets out a shudder when your hand wanders down to the bulge in his pants. For weeks, this was your routine.

Messy make-outs, eager handjobs or sometimes blowjob, Caleb trying to return the favor and you nudging him away.

"N-no, not today," Caleb manages, gently grabbing your wrist and guiding it away.

You frown, your hand tensing slightly. "Did I do something wrong?"

Caleb swallows thickly, his cock giving a twitch of protest when he rests your hand at your side. "Not at all. I just—I feel bad."

"Why? I really want to, Caleb."

Caleb has to will himself not to give in to the way you say his name. "No, it's not that... I just can never return the favor."

He sees the flash of panic that passes through your eyes and quickly continues, "Which is fine! I don't have to touch you if you don't want me to, I just think we should give this a break for a little."

You glance down at the sheets, your face burning with shame. Both, at what you're hiding and the fact that he won't let you touch him.

Caleb scoots closer. "Hey, I really want you to touch me. Really, I do, it just doesn't feel fair."

You take a small breath, then softly murmur, "I can't come."

Caleb's brows furrow. "What?"

"I can't come," you repeat, heart beating wildly in your chest. "I've tried everything, I just can't. That's why I don't let you return the favor. You literally can't."

Caleb blinks. Then, utters a soft, "Oh."

It's quiet for a beat until he speaks up again.

"So, does it not feel good?" His voice is curious, not accusatory. "'Cus when you touch me it... It seems like you like it, but if you don't I don't want you to fa—"

"No!" you blurt out, a furious blush coloring your cheeks. "I like it. I like it a lot. I still feel pleasure, I just can't come."

Caleb lets out a soft breath, almost like it was meant to be a laugh but he subtly covered it up. "So... do you want me to touch you?"

You chew your lip, your body screaming a wordless yes even as you shake your head. "I can't come."

"That's not what I asked."

You take a second. "Yes.."

Caleb smiles, slipping his hand down your waist and tugging you closer until your stomach is pressed to his. "I can touch you all day and night if that's what you want. I don't care if you don't come."

"Your wrist will hurt."

He can't help the laugh that slips out at your warning. "Do you want me to, Pips?"

You nod again and he slowly slips his hand under the fabric of your underwear, teasing his fingers through your slick.

You can't help buck into his hand and Caleb sighs. "I could've done this sooner.. God, you've been so needy, huh?"

When you nod, he eases a finger in. There's almost no resistance and that makes his dick jump.

"I'll take care of you. I'll go as long as you want," he pushes a second finger in, "as hard or soft as you want." He starts pumping slowly, drinking in your expressions.

Your face pinches in pleasure, hands clinging to him as he effortlessly reaches that spot that makes your toes curl.

"This still okay?"

You nod, chest rising and falling with your uneven breaths. "Mhmm.. It feels—different.."

Caleb nudges his fingers deeper, rubbing along that spongy spot inside you. "Here?"

"Yes, Caleb!"

He gives a soft moan at how perfectly you squeeze around him when he rubs over that sweet spot. "Want me to keep touching you here? Or do you want to try something else?"

"Mmn! I–I don't know!" you gasp, your body arching into his touch against your will.

Caleb slows down, gently rolling you over so you can lie on your back. "I won't do anything you don't want. You tell me what you need, alright, Pips?" He leans down to capture your lips.

You can't even return it properly, too focused on the way your stomach curls and your hips jerk every time he pushes his fingers in. Was that normal?

"Why does it feel like I'm gonna—wait–" You bring your arms around his neck and hug him close. "Caleb, it feels like I'm gonna—"

"That's normal," Caleb says, slowing down just a fraction. "You're doing good."

But he keeps hitting that spot. Keeps the same pressure, the same speed, the same angle and it makes you think you might actually pee.

Wait, you think you are.

You can't even tell him to stop before you're making a mess all over him.

"I'm.. hnn.. I'm sorry, Caleb!" you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut and hiding your face in his neck as if that might erase the pure mortification of whatever the hell you just did.

Caleb inhales sharply, easing his out fingers to rub languid circles over your clit. "Shit. You—you're so pretty."

Your ears burn.

"Don't say that.."

"Why not?"

"I didn't... pee?"

"No," he responds, kissing the top of your head. "That was something else and you—" he breaks off on a groan, trying to withstand the urge to grind himself into your leg. "You were.. so perfect."

Caleb carefully pulls back to look at you. "Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

You can still feel him stroking you in small circles, and despite how overwhelming that was, you don't want to stop.

"Can we... keep going?"

Caleb nearly shudders. "Anything for you, princess."

Zayne <3 !

Zayne presses a fervent kiss to your jaw, his hand slowly drifting lower. Down your stomach, and stopping at the waistband of your panties.

You squirm, your cheeks flushing as you grip his wrist. "Wait.."

Zayne instantly draws his hand back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I got ahead of myself."

"No, no, not at all.. It's just.." You pause, your chest tightening.

"What is it?" Zayne's about to shift away from you when suddenly you cling to his shoulder and pull him back.

He flinches slightly, but he doesn't resist. "It's alright," he starts again. "We can simply—"

"I can't, Zayne."

Zayne blinks once. Then he nods. "I know. It's okay, we don't need to do this. We can—"

"No, Zayne.." You sigh, your whole body burning with embarrassment. "Touching me is pointless. I can't... I can't... come."

Zayne opens his mouth, then closes it again. Did he hear that right? You can't.. come?

"You have anorgasmia?"

You flush. You're not even sure what that word means, but the fact that you're even having this conversation—with Zayne of all people—is making it hard to breathe.

"I don't—I don't know." You shift uncomfortably, your hand squeezing around his shoulder. "I've tried. But I just can't."

Zayne looks at you thoughtfully. Then gently, he says, "Pleasure doesn't always need a climax. But if you don't want—"

"I want to," you quickly say, arching into him despite yourself. "I just didn't think you'd want to since I can't..."

Zayne lets out a soft breath through his nose as he leans down to press his lips against yours. "You know me better than that, don't you?" he murmurs.

You give him a weak nod and kiss him back, gently guiding his hand back between your legs.

Zayne's breath hitches, but he doesn't hesitate.

He starts rubbing you through your clothes, drinking in the soft sighs that come tumbling out when he puts just the right amount of pressure.

"Don't feel like you need to perform for me," he reminds quietly. "I'm not doing this to make you cum." He kisses you slower, matching the pace of his fingers.

"I'm doing this to make you feel good."

You sigh, your hips bucking into his hand. You can't help it. Some part of you wishes he would stop. You two could be at this for hours and you wouldn't finish. But another part of you is screaming at him to continue. To go further.

Almost as if he read your mind, Zayne carefully helps you out of your panties and nudges them aside.

You bite your lip, your face flushing as he stares down at you with pure adoration. He drags his hand down your stomach, then lower.

He runs his fingers through the slick mess between your legs, watching as your thighs twitch around him, like your body can't decide whether to squirm away or pull him closer.

"Relax," he coaxes. "I'll be gentle."

Zayne circles your clit firmly.

"This still feels good, doesn't it?" When your hips come off the bed in confirmation, Zayne smiles. "Good." He rubs faster, absorbing every shift and twitch like it's scripture.

"I won't—I can't come," you remind him, even as your body melts into his touch.

Zayne shakes his head. "Shh. This isn't about making you come. Just enjoy it."

You give a barely-there nod. Then slowly, carefully, you feel him push a finger in. You gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets.

"Is it too much?"

"No. No, it feels good."

Zayne nods, gently pulling his finger out, then pushing back in. He does it over and over again, making sure you're relaxed before he adds another finger.

"Is this still good?"

"Yes," you breathe out, wiggling your hips. "Please don't stop."

Zayne's breath catches in his throat as he pumps his fingers in your slick heat. He could stay here forever, listening to you, feeling you.

He lets out a soft groan, sinking in deeper.

The pressure makes your stomach tighten. He keeps hitting that weird, spongy spot inside that makes your whole body ache. You can't even keep your moans down long enough to ask him to wait.

Your thighs tremble and Zayne stills when a sudden gush of wetness spills against his fingers, down your thighs, and onto the mattress.

For a second, you're frozen. Humiliated. You've never done that—whatever that was. You glance up at Zayne, mortified, but his eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You..—"

You squirm, your face flushing. "I'm sorry—"

Zayne shakes his head and surges down, capturing your lips with his. "Don't apologize. I don't want you to hold back with me."

You kiss back, your heart still pounding in your ears. "Was that..?"

"No. It's different," he murmurs against your lips. "But did it feel okay?"

You hum against his lips.

"Do you want to continue?" he asks, his fingers flexing inside you.

Yes.

Yes. Everything in you is screaming at him to please continue, but you just shake your head. "No, that was good."

Zayne stares, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Is that what you want?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek. "No..."

"What do you want, then?" Zayne shifts his fingers, the wet sound making your face burn. "Use your words."

"I want you to continue," you whisper.

Zayne hums, his lips twitching with a subtle smile as he leans up to press a small kiss to your forehead. "That's better."

Xavier <3 !

Xavier snuggles into your boobs, inhaling you like you're the only air he'll ever need. You sight softly, heat dripping low in your stomach despite your best efforts to keep your horny thoughts at bay.

"Xav.."

"Yes?" he murmurs, blinking up between your breasts.

The sight forces you to tear your eyes away. He's too good at this—the whole innocent 'I'm-just-resting-my-head-here' act when you know what he really wants.

"You're being naughty."

"No, I'm not." He closes his eyes and nuzzles into your chest again, his hands coming up to palm your breasts.

You'd been holding back with Xavier weeks given your... issues and he never questioned it too much. He was content with just kissing you, but he did get a little needy every now and then.

Like now.

You stare down and feel a pang of guilt. He's been so patient. Even when he wants it so much. You can feel it—physically feel how much he wants you when you two kiss and you're sitting in his lap.

You sigh, raking your hand through his hair. "Hey, Xavier."

"Mmn?"

"I'm sorry we haven't... gotten physical."

You mentally cringe.

"Don't apologize for that. This is good," Xavier hums, pressing a reverent kiss to your chest, the warmth of his lips seeping through the fabric of your shirt. "This is really good."

"But.. do you want more?"

Xavier looks up, blinking, like he can't decide whether this is a trick question or something you want an answer to.

"Um... I.. Is this a trick question?"

You give a rueful little smile. "No. Be honest."

"I mean, doing more with you would be nice. But I don't need it. I'm perfectly fine like this."

The ache between his legs might beg to differ, but he would never guilt you into doing something with him.

You stay silent, fidgeting with his messy hair.

Xavier immediately sits up when you don't say anything. "Did I say something wrong? Was that actually a trick question?"

You shake your head. "I just—I want to do things with you, Xavier... but... I can't come."

Now Xavier's silent. He wasn't expecting that.

"Oh. Do you know why?"

"No," you murmur. "I've tried everything. Nothing works. I even tried toys."

Xavier's face flushes at the mention of toys, eyes darting around like he's trying to find their hiding spots. Then, quickly he forces his eyes back to you. Now isn't the time to look for your secret dildos or whatever it is you tried.

"Oh," he says again, his chest tightening. "That's.. fine."

You pause. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you still feel good when you do... things?"

Your cheeks warm as you nod. "I just—I've never tried anything with you because it would be useless. I wouldn't—you know?"

The thought makes his cock twitch traitorously. Xavier shifts awkwardly, slowly crawling back over you. "I could still make you feel good, if you want me to."

He slides his hand down your waist and squeezes like it's the only thing keeping him from crumbling.

"Even though I wouldn't...?"

"It doesn't matter. I would do anything you want for as long as you want," Xavier insists. And he means it with every fiber of his being.

Your heart stutters and heat rushes between your legs.

"Is there anything you'd want to try?" Carefully, he dips his hand down your stomach, stopping between your thighs, his touch light. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure..?"

Xavier nods. "Positive."

Your body lights up at his answer, your head already swimming with all the things you've wanted him to do. But one thing sticks out.

Shyly, you start, "Would you... go down on me?"

Xavier can't bite back the strangled sound that comes out. "Yes," he breathes. "Yes, I would go down on you."

He slips his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear, waiting. "Can I?"

You nod, watching with clouded eyes as Xavier gently pulls your clothes off and dips his head between your legs. He pulls your legs over his shoulder and when you feel his breath on your needy heat, you think you want to keep him there forever.

He kisses you—soft at first, then harder. You just taste so good. Musky, a little sweet, too.

He wraps his hands around your thighs and starts eating you out like a man starved. You gasp, shooting your hand down to tangle in his hair.

"Xavier!"

He hums in response, the vibration making your toes curl. You didn't expect it to be so good, but it is. So, so good.

You roll your hips, unable to stop it and Xavier groans when he feels you. He even pulls your thighs to guide you on his face.

The sounds you two make are obscene. Wet, sloppy squelches, groans, and sighs that are borderline pornographic. It's something you never thought you'd experience.

And when Xavier slowly eases two fingers in, you nearly cry. How can he even reach that deep?

"Oh, God! X-xavier! You—You're—!"

He gives you slow pumps, his tongue working your clit at the same time. And when he curls his fingers, your hips jump.

"W-wait! Why does that feel so—?"

You can barely speak before he's doing it again. And again. And again. And again. You're a squirming mess, hips chasing his mouth and fingers.

"Xavier...! Wait I think I might—!"

Xavier moans when he feels you spill against him. But you're desperately trying to twist away from him, embarrassment stinging your cheeks.

You gasp. "Oh my god, did I just— I’m sorry, that was so gross—"

Xavier slowly eases away, chin and lips glistening with your arousal. He wipes it away, pupils blown wide pure adoration.

You can't even look at him, but you're still blurting out apologies like that might erase the mess you just made.

"Gross?" He breaths out an incredulous sound. "Are you kidding?"

You swallow hard. "It wasn't—?"

Xavier makes an incredulous sound. "That was the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"W-what?"

"I loved it." He notes the way you're squeezing your knees together and feels a pang of guilt. "Were you enjoying yourself?"

You take a moment before giving a shy nod. "Yes. I just.. wasn't expecting that. Were you okay with that?"

"More than okay," he immediately answers.

"But that wasn't coming, was it?"

Xavier shakes his head. "No, not quite. You're sure it felt okay, though?"

"Mhmm.."

"Then, is it okay if I stay a little longer?" Xavier asks, sliding his hand over your knee.

Yes! You want to greedily pull him back down, but you see the way his chest falls and rises a little too quickly. "Don't you need a break?"

"No." He leans closer. "I don't need a break unless you do."

Your stomach flutters. "I don't need a break yet."

Xavier smiles, gently prying your legs apart and lowering his face between them again. "Then neither do I."

Sylus <3 !

"Something's been bothering you," Sylus says between kisses, his hands dragging up your sides and squeezing like he can't help it.

You sigh, arching into him. "What are you talking about?"

He presses a soft kiss to your head before pulling back. "Whenever we get intimate, you tense up." He cups your face, rubbing a soothing circle over your cheek before letting his fall to his side.

"You can tell me if this isn't what you want, sweetie. You always can."

You nod, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down as if to prove your point when you say, "I know... It's not that though."

Sylus chuckles when he feels you close your arm around his neck. "All right then. What is it?" He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses it. Soft. Slow.

You smile, chest squeezing at the way his eyes never leave yours. "It's embarrassing.."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed of. Tell me what's on your mind."

You swallow hard, bracing yourself. "Um.. I really want to do stuff with you.. But I can't..."

Sylus quirks a brow, but he doesn't look accusing or judging; he is just curious. "Say more..."

"I can't.. come.."

There’s a beat of silence. A slow, terrifying beat, before Sylus finally nods in acknowledgment. "All right.. Do you want to talk about that more?"

Your cheeks burn an embarrassing red, but despite the heat, you still feel an odd sense of comfort. So, with a shaky breath, you start, "I still feel good. But there's just... no finish."

"No release," Sylus echoes, and you nod.

Sylus hums, nibbling on your knuckle. "So that's what it is? You don't want to burden me?"

You give a shy nod and Sylus almost can't help the scoff that slips past his lips. You frown, about to ask him what he's making that sound from when he leans down and kisses you. "You could never be a burden to me. In or out of bed."

You gasp against his lips.

"But—"

"No buts. Do you want to feel good?"

"..Yes."

"Then let me make you feel good."

–

The next time you see Sylus he pulls out a velvet-wrapped box, intricate designs engraved on its side.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you stare down at it, cheeks flushing like you already know what's inside.

"What's this?"

"These are options," he says, watching with an amused little smile as you slowly open the box. Inside are lubes, oils, and a few dildos. They look beginner-friendly, but it doesn't stop your mind from spinning.

"You don’t have to do anything tonight. Just… options for you, if you ever feel curious. I want you to feel safe."

You tentatively pull an oil out. "What's this?"

Sylus grins, his chest warming at the way your lips part with curiosity. "It's meant to enhance your pleasure."

Then slowly, you pull out the dildo. It's not as intimidating as you thought it'd be—It's actually a cute pink, not too big or too small, with a few ridges lining the side.

"Again, you don't have to try that."

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. "I want to."

Sylus's lips twitch with a smirk. "You do?"

You nod, tapping the oil. "And... this too."

Sylus nudges the box aside and kisses the top of your head. "Tell me if you ever want to stop. This oil can be overwhelming at first."

You let him guide you onto your back and strip you down—slow and gentle. Like he would stay in this moment forever if you let him.

Then slowly, he rubs the oil on your clit, his touch making your back arch. Sylus smiles. "Does it feel good, sweetie?"

"Mhm."

"It'll take a few minutes to kick in, but in the meantime, we can explore with this." You watch, your stomach fluttering as Sylus applies a generous amount of lube on the toy, then gently nudges it at your entrance.

He watches every shift, careful not to hurt you.

And when he pushes it deeper, your little mewl makes him twitch in his pants.

"How does this feel, sweetie? Do you want more?"

You gasp, clutching his arm. "Yes, please!"

He presses deeper, giving you a moment to adjust. The second you start squirming your hips, he gently starts pumping the toy in and out, gauging your reactions. At the same time, he reaches down and starts rubbing firm circles over the achy bud between your legs.

You squeeze his arm tighter, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"Talk to me," he breathes. "Is it too much?"

You furiously shook your head. "No! Please don't stop!"

Sylus lets out a soft laugh. You're beautiful like this. He works over every spot he knows will have your back arching and your toes curling, building you to a high you didn't know was possible.

"Sylus...! I feel like—Ah! Every time you do..hahh.. that! It feels like I'm... I'm gonna..!"

Sylus smiles, slowing down, just enough to let you relax, but not enough to let you come down from the high.

"Shhh... Let go. You're not going to pee, if that's what you think."

You grab him impossibly tight. "P-promise?"

Sylus nudges the dildo deep, hitting that spot once more and you nearly lose it. "I promise. Do you still want this?"

When you nod, he doesn't stop anymore. He hits all the right places, again and again and again. Then you feel it—the pressure in your stomach, the sickening tightness—

You barely have time to speak before you're spilling yourself on the dildo and his wrist.

Sylus lets out a stuttered breath. "God, look at you… absolutely stunning."

You want to flush, ask him if that's really what you thought it was, apologize for just... spilling yourself but he's already leaning down and kissing you.

"That was okay?" you ask between kisses and he groans.

"That was perfect. You're perfect."

Rafayel <3 !

Rafayel leans back, lips kiss-swollen, and brows furrowed in concern. "Hey, you okay? You..." Rafayel pauses, unable to hide the hint of offense, "tense every time we do this."

You open your mouth, unsure of what you're even going to say, but Rafayel quickly continues. "It's fine if you don't want this," he assures you, slipping his hand into yours and squeezing. "Just tell me. I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No.. It's not that..."

He sees the way you seem to shrink. "Not that I’m demanding fanfare every time I lean in,” he jokes, hoping that might ease the tension.

Your lips curl up in a small smile. "I know..."

"Then what is it?"

With a shaky breath, you finally manage, "I can't come."

Rafayel's brows come together. "You.. can't come?" he repeats, relief flooding his chest when you nod.

Not that he's happy you can't come, but at least it isn't him.

"I'm sorry I didn't know," he murmurs, cupping your cheek and pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

You smile, leaning into his touch. "It doesn't mean I don't experience pleasure though.. I just," you shrug softly, "never finish."

Rafayel nods, thoughtfully. "You should've told me sooner. I wouldn't have—"

"No, Raf—" you laugh breathlessly, cupping his face in your hands. "I'm trying to say that I want to do things with you. I want to right now."

Your cheeks warm when you hear yourself.

"I still feel good. And if you didn't mind..—"

"I don't mind," Rafayel answers, already slipping his hand around your waist and pulling you close. "I don't mind at all."

"Then do you want—" You break off on a yelp as Rafayel scoops you into his arms. You laugh, curling your arms around his neck. "What are you doing?"

"Setting the mood."

You scoff, nuzzling into his neck. "You don't have to make this a big deal."

"Why not? You're a big deal to me."

He gently sets you down on his bed and dims the light before crawling over you. You swallow hard, every cell in your body lighting up the instant he leans down to kiss you because now you know where this is going.

He's slow, gentle. The way he always is, but he's also hungrier, needier.

His hands drag down your side, remapping your body before finally landing between your legs. He pulls back to look at you as he applies gentle pressure.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Rafayel asks, his voice low, laced with a hint of frustration. Not at you though, at himself.

"I just didn't know if you'd still want to... do stuff if you knew."

Rafayel lets out a small shudder, rubbing firm circles through your clothes. "Do you seriously think I'd walk away because I know you better?"

You give a slow shake of your head. "I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have thought—"

Rafayel kisses you again, his hands slowly working your pants and underwear down your legs. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry."

He's gentle when he nudges your clothes away. "I should've been more attuned to you," he says, his hand finding the heated skin between your legs again.

He drags his fingers through your slit, a quiet breath slipping out when he feels how much you've wanted this.

"N-no, Rafayel," you try, your hips rolling into his touch. "It's not your fault."

"It is." He crushes his lips against yours, his fingers slowly working over your slick heat. "Let me make it up to you."

You press your palm to his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath the faint whiff of turpentine and terpene clinging to his skin. Then you nod.

"Okay."

Rafayel doesn't waste a single second. He pushes in slowly, his mouth parting at the way you cling to his finger.

He waits until he's certain you're ready, then he nudges another finger in, drinking in the way your face pinches with pleasure.

"Tell me if it’s too much, or not enough. Every stroke is for you."

"It's enough," you mewl, the sound shooting straight to his core. He can't help it. You're so beautiful like this.

He curls his fingers once, gasping when he touches the spot that makes your back arch and your hips jump.

"There?" he asks. "Do you like that spot?"

You don't even know what that spot means, you just know it feels good so you give a furious nod. "Yes! I like.. It!"

Rafayel knows he should keep his teasing to a minimum. You're being so open and vulnerable with him after all, but it slips out unbidden.

"That's it." He bites his lip, a silent scolding, but then it comes out again. "Falling apart on my fingers.."

When you flutter around his pumping digits, he nearly loses it.

You cling to his shirt, heart pounding. "Feels so good... keep talking.."

Rafayel shudders, his thumb brushing against your clit when he speaks. "Yeah? You want to hear my voice?" His voice dips, jaw tensing from the effort of holding himself back. "Look at you... dripping all over me."

He hits that perfect spot. And once he finds the exact place that makes you breathe out a whiny moan and curl your toes, he hits it again and again.

"You're so beautiful."

You feel your stomach burn, the pressure inside you coiling tight. Too tight.

"Rafayel..!"

You gasp as you spill yourself over him, a furious blush painting your cheeks. You want to curl up and his in his blankets, but he's leaning down and pressing his whole body weight onto you, kissing you slow and deep.

"You're my most beautiful work."

You make a muffled sound into the kiss, melting into it. When he pulls back, his cheeks are tinted a cute pink and his breathing is uneven.

"You said... that you don't finish.. but you can squirt?"

You cover your face. "Don't say that!"

Rafayel smiles. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's gorgeous."

You peek through your fingers. "Really?"

"Really."

He gently pulls your hands away and kisses you again. "Thank you for showing me that side of you."

"Thank you for helping me."

—

@cafekitsune for dividers!

i didnt like this.

[mayweholdhands]

And suddenly she never had to face it alone again

[fluttrdoll]

⋆˚ ✿ ˖ ࣪ the lads men and their favourite sex position

xavier 𝜗𝜚 despite the soft demeanour he has, xavier loves to fuck you where he’s the one in control, and he has it perfectly in doggy, your submissive moans like music to his ears as he pounds into your pussy from behind. he’ll occasionally pull you up so your back connects with his chest while his hands run down your neck to your stomach, pulling your face up to look at him as your glossy eyes of pleasure meet with his. he can’t help but bite the bottom of his lip when he sees the desperate expression on your face, his face flushing baby pink and his hips pounding harder with his hand gently wrapping around your throat as he chases your desperate highs with need.

zayne 𝜗𝜚 i think he’d love fucking you in a lotus position, your bodies close together where zayne can still look at your pretty face, flustered with your lips parted. he loves having your bare chest against his when he’s gently thrusting up, kissing your spongy spot with his tip as your walls flutter around his length and he can’t help the grunts and groans that fall from his lips. and when he’s close with that familiar build up of pleasure, he’ll pull you in even closer to kiss your lips and rest his forehead against yours as his thrusts grow sloppy, drawing out both of your desperate highs, muttering deeply beneath his heavy breaths, “fuck.. i just can’t get enough of you.”

rafayel 𝜗𝜚 rafayel loves when you ride him, getting a perfect look at your flustered face while you fuck yourself dumb on his cock. he loves feeling your chest against his, with his lips attaching onto your sensitive buds, looking up at you with heavy lids and a cheeky smirk when he hears the neediness in your voice from the moans and whines that fall from your lips. when he can sense you’re getting tired or that the pleasure is too much, he’s thrusting up and kissing your sweet spot with his throbbing tip, eliciting a gasp from you as he whispers against your ear while kneading at the plush of your thighs and hips, “don’t stop now, baby. i’m not done with you yet.”

sylus 𝜗𝜚 this man loves missionary, his hands entwined with yours as he fucks you with deep thrust that have you moaning out his name with your head thrown back. sylus loves the way your face contorts in pleasure, your lips parted and your brows furrowed, and fucking you like this gives him the perfect view. he just wants to make you feel good, and he’s making sure to prioritise your pleasure as he pays attention to what touches and motions make your back arch, or make you moan out in a high pitched tone. he’ll always ask mixed with praise, “does that feel good? right there, huh? you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.”, and he loves how he can make you come undone beneath him, clawing down his back in a way sylus loves.

caleb 𝜗𝜚 he’s possessive, and loves nothing more than watching his cock stretch you out in a mating press where you can’t escape his grasp. he’ll press down on your stomach with a subtle smirk, asking, “can you feel me there? feel how deep i am inside of you..”, and when you whimper out with the way he fucks you, abusing your gummy walls and causing that build up of hot white pleasure in your core from his constant thrusts against your sweet spot, he can’t help but groan out alongside you, his eyes closed as he bites the bottom of his lip. in this position, his dog tag is dangling over your face, and you can’t help but think he looks so perfect with those flushed cheeks and heavy breaths he makes when he’s about to cum inside.

[aikkyuu]

my babyyyy! 😣 look at him sulking and pouting😭🤍

full credit to artist: @fishbone0306 on X!

[vxnillabxn]

Can I request headcanons for all 5 lads men reacting to his shy gn s/o asking him if you can sit on his lap in private please?

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚HI! i'm so sorry for taking so long! at first, i had a "o-omg o(>///<)o i'm s-so s-s-shy!" type of reader in mind, but i couldn't take myself seriously, so i subdued it a lil' bit, lol. anyway ᵎᵎ i really hope you enjoy it, because this was too pure and fun to write and picture in my mind 𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

caleb can tell whenever you need something, anything, even if it is as simple as wanting bubblegum.

he won't ever push you to voice your desires or needs, but he loves when you do.

he loves when you need him.

and he loves when you audibly tell him so.

so, imagine his surprise when you quietly stand at the end of his bed, looking up at him with that “hi, i want something but i won't say it out loud and i will let you guess what is going on” stare.

he tilts his head, sitting up before patting the space next to him on his bed.

you shake your head, rooted in place.

he tilts his head to the other side, like a seriously confused puppy.

not because he doesn't understand, but because he didn't expect you to reject being close to him.

“what's wrong, baby?”

you avert your gaze, focusing on his aircraft models instead.

all organized, all prettily displayed.

he stands up and walks to you, gently taking your chin between his long fingers to bring your gaze back to him.

“pips.”

you look up.

he gently smiles and brushes your cheek with his thumb.

“talk to me. what is it?”

it takes you a bit, but you mumble, leaning into his warm and familiar touch.

he doesn't understand much, except for the word “lap.”

“come again, pipsqueak?”

you avert your gaze and groan, stepping back.

“forget it, leb. it was… it was a bit dumb anyway.”

before you can fully escape from his reach, he already has both your hands in his, and he pulls you closer, leaning down to search your face with his.

his eyes are attentive, too much, and he's pushing his face way too close, just like a hyperactive, curious kid staring at fish through the glass at an aquarium.

you can't help but chuckle and softly push him away.

“caleb!”

he smiles back, of course, always feeling happy whenever you are.

“please, tell me what it is that you need. anything. i'll get it for you right now.”

and more than helpful, he sounds… eager, almost desperate to help.

he is searching between your eyes, wanting to hear anything you have to say, no matter how small.

if he had a puppy tail, you're sure it would be swishing from side to side oh so fast.

—and he'd have a collar with your name in bold letters around his neck, too.—

“i, uh… leb, i swear it's not a big deal. i just thought it would be cute to…”

he nods encouragingly.

“yes? to what, baby? hm?”

he caresses your hands now, literally ready to sprint to a store, or to push the moon back if you didn't want it to be nighttime anymore.

“i want to sit on your lap.”

you quietly say, feeling every fiber of your skin getting hotter.

it wasn't hard to say, in fact, the words roll off your lips so naturally.

he wasn't expecting that.

so he mentally exploded for… five seconds.

before he grins and soon sits down, patting his lap.

“of course! anytime, pips. c'mere.”

but you don't go.

you didn't expect to make it this far, so you step back, a bit hesitant.

but he isn't having it. not at all. he softly stands up and grabs you by your waist, plopping you down on top of him as he sits back down.

“there we go, all nice and comfy.”

he sighs, smiling warmly at you.

your cheeks heat up, and you can't help but hide your face in the crook of his neck.

you didn't want to make it weird.

you just wanted to sit on his lap to see what it was like, what his legs felt like, what it was to feel his strong chest and his scent.

and it felt… perfect.

however, you were frozen. both silent and still, quietly enjoying the moment but not wanting to create a big scene so as not to make this bigger than it was supposed to be.

on the other hand, he was floating.

having you sitting on his lap is one thing, but hearing you say so clearly that you wanted to, was a completely different story.

he could hold you like this forever, he thinks.

when his hands softly roam around your back, and he lifts your chin up to nibble on your lower lip, you softly smack his head.

“...don't make this weird, leb.”

he pulls back with a cheeky grin on his handsome face.

“since you won't tell me everything that you want, i'll just have to guess and check off everything on the list… one by one.”

he kisses your lips softly.

“and we have all night to try, don't we, sweet pips?”

your heart beats faster, and you just stare at him.

but, being honest? you'd much rather have him guess than have to voice embarrassing needs and get frustratingly shy.

at least this way, it'll seem like it was his idea all along to have you like this.

so, as long as he reads you perfectly like he always does, you decide you won't have to embarrass yourself often by opening your mouth.

and, now that you think about it, being in his lap after almost dying inside from asking out loud, feels like a reward for being vocal.

so, who's the puppy now?

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

you yawned and rubbed your eyes upon entering his studio.

he was sitting on a ridiculously tall stool, a bit long for him to move freely and reach those pesky corners when he insisted on painting on a huge canvas.

you wondered how it would be to sit next to him; or rather, straddle his lap as he worked, enjoying being so close to him yet so far from the floor.

it felt risky.

and, of course, you didn't dare to ask it out loud.

you simply stared with curiosity, until he turned around slightly to look down.

when he sees you, he smiles.

“ah, wonderful timing! can you pleaaaase pass me that brush?”

you look towards where he is pointing, seeing like… seven brushes scattered around.

“uhm…”

“the one on top of the other one, cutie… no, on your left. uh, wait, my left!”

you frown, taking all of the brushes and stepping up the stool carefully.

his smile widens and he receives you with open arms.

“my, spare me from the upcoming tide! was it really that hard to pick up a brush, cutie?”

you push the brushes against his chest, rolling your eyes slightly.

“yes.”

he makes space for you, and you scoot closer, feeling as your legs dangle.

when your annoyance subsides, and he is once again immersed in his painting, you look down at his lap again.

should you ask?

no.

he'll tease you endlessly.

…but you'd get what you want, right?

you look for a bit too long, until you feel a cold, wet stroke against your cheek.

he softly brushed a wet brush against your skin.

“what's on your mind, my pearl?”

you clean your cheek with your sleeve, before shaking your head gently.

“nothing much…”

he smiles, kissing your head.

“hm, if there's someone with nothing on their mind, that's probably me. come on, cutie. spill it.”

you chuckle, before leaning against him.

your ears start warming up, and he looks attentive.

patient too, you must add.

because he knows how flustered you can really get.

“uhm, so, don't you think it'd be cute to…?”

“to?”

he props his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in the palms of his hands as he gazes at you.

you close your eyes before blurting it out.

“can i sit on your lap?”

it comes out quick, almost too quick for him to catch.

but he does, and he smiles victoriously.

his precious pearl, asking so shyly to be in such a romantic position as he paints?

out of a movie.

10/10.

he doesn't talk, instead pulling you carefully towards him, always keeping his movements graceful as he doesn't want to let you fall, nor fall himself off the stool.

your back is pressed against his chest, and he puts the clear vase with his brushes in your hands, as if you were a table.

“hey!”

but he quickly starts painting, resting his chin on your shoulder as he moves his arms around, changing his brushes from time to time from the small vase you're holding.

soon enough, you sigh and relax, following his seemingly simple yet so mesmerizing strokes across the top part of the canvas.

you don't want to, but you fall asleep, as if the waves he's painting were singing a lullaby for you.

and once he feels your body relaxing, and the vase in your hands tilts gently, he puts it aside and holds you closer, his own cheeks now pink.

bright pink.

how can you be so cute?

how can you be so shy, too?

it's unfair. he wants to hear and see you being needy more often, but the fact that you almost never do because of how flustered you get…

is way more endearing in his eyes.

two hours pass, and when you wake up, you see yourself high up.

if it wasn't for rafayel's arms around you, you would've panicked.

he softly kisses your cheek from behind, and you turn to him, getting flustered again…

as if your brain registered once again the position you were in.

and the fact that you asked for it.

“welcome back.”

he cheekily says.

you look back at his painting, and… much to your surprise, among the beach escape he painted, you could make out a silhouette on the sand.

him and you.

cuddling under the sun.

“raf…?”

he changes the subject, handing you the vase back.

“you almost dropped it, cutie. you kinda suck as an assistant.”

you furrow your eyebrows, but you can't really move that much in the stool, which means you can't pinch his cheeks.

but you do notice his blushy cheeks and the way he avoids your gaze, focusing on softening the lines surrounding your silhouettes.

knowing he gets just as flustered as you do, even when he actively teases you…

makes you feel a bit more at ease, somehow.

you finally allow yourself to lean against his touch, both of you silently agreeing to ignore your heartbeats going faster and the way your breaths hitch.

a truce, if you will.

maybe there are things rafayel keeps to himself, too.

and you start to understand why he loves it when you speak your mind and ask him to fulfill your wishes.

because you think you want to fulfill his as well.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

ah, a wonderful evening, truly; lots of guests, the most exquisite drinks and a soft, jazz melody subtly setting the amicable mood.

expensive perfume, designer high heels clicking, obnoxious laughs…

it was overwhelming.

you were holding sylus' arm, lost in thought as he discussed something you truly ignored the context of.

his eyes fell on you, and he immediately dismissed the group of men he was talking to.

he gently took your hand in his and kissed the back of it.

“shall we leave, darling?”

you look into his eyes and sigh softly.

you knew this was an important event, and even when sylus repeatedly stated that you are far more important than anything or anyone else, you still don't want to ruin this for him.

“no, i just… need a breather.”

you softly ask, caressing his hand with your thumb.

he cradles your head and pulls you closer, placing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“as you wish.”

he knows you don't exactly excel at establishing relationships with strangers, let alone have the spotlight on you for more than one minute, so he already expected you to want your space —which didn't bother him at all.

he was so proud, regardless, because you were keeping up so well, and all for him.

you were such a sweetheart.

he led you to a lounge room, which had some guests inside, mingling and drinking.

but upon seeing sylus, they hushed and soon stood up, quietly leaving.

you sit down on a rather comfy white sofa with expensive‑looking cushions, and he sits close to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

no matter how overwhelmed you felt, it never happened with sylus.

his presence was commanding, yes.

but his soul was gentle.

and his gaze was understanding.

and the subtle gestures and stances made you feel safe and cared for.

listened to.

understood.

however, you can't deny the way you still keep things to yourself, mostly because you are afraid of voicing your desires out loud.

—he absolutely knows your deepest desires, though. there's no point in hiding them from him.—

but he respects you, and he literally does what you tell him to; not the other way around, as other bystanders think.

right now, you need to recharge. and having him so close and inviting only feeds your imagination.

you don't dare asking such a thing…

but he's never denied you anything.

maybe he knows what you want by now?

maybe he doesn't.

what if he wants it too, but doesn't act on it because you haven't asked for it?

you shift, before softly tapping his thigh.

he looks at you, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“yes, sweetie?”

you stay silent for a few seconds, finding the right words.

“may i sit on… on your lap? please.”

you mumble, your whole body burning up after such a simple request.

you've been in his lap before, sure.

but he always had pulled you in.

you never actually asked for it yourself.

he's delighted. actually, this made his entire month.

he spreads his legs on the couch and pats his right thigh, not saying anything.

he knows his voice will get you even more flustered, so he treats you like he would treat a wary kitten.

silent, patient, gentle.

until you crawl into his lap, hesitating before straddling it.

your gazes meet, and he doesn't comment at all. he just presses your noses together, rubbing them from side to side.

you close your eyes and sigh, forgetting all the heavy sensations.

the music isn't as loud anymore.

the drinks don't smell as strong.

the chattering outside doesn't sound like billions of different instruments being played at once, it just sounds… faint.

and when he wraps his arms around you, you nuzzle against him, ignoring your increased heart rate.

he is, once again, so proud of you.

so proud of you for voicing your desires, no matter how innocent or simple.

he wants you to claim what's yours, to take without asking, for he is yours eternally.

but he'll also settle with this; your clenched fists tugging at his shirt, your closed eyes, your warm skin.

one way or another, they indicate you're overwhelmed by the desires he ignites in you, by the thoughts, by the needs.

and even when you're not demanding as you totally have the right to do…

he'll treasure moments like these, when he has you all to himself, and he manages to catch a glimpse of what you truly want, to hear your inner voice, to know what's on that reserved mind of yours.

after a brief dismissive hand gesture followed by dark crimson smoke, the door to the lounge room closes with a click.

no one shall disturb you as you recharge.

especially not when you're claiming what's yours in such a sweet, vulnerable way.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

the weather forecast displayed on the tv filled out the otherwise quiet living room.

the days were about to get warmer, nicer, sunnier.

xavier was already enjoying the warm rays of sun peeking through the ajar windows.

he was sleeping; lips parted, his arms loosely draped against a cushion, and his legs slightly spread open, with a light blanket covering his lap.

of course, sunny days meant leaving the air conditioning on, and the way he carelessly slept was tempting you to take a refreshing nap in the middle of the day, too.

however, there was a tiny problem.

you didn't want to disturb him, let alone tell him what you wanted to do.

which was sitting on his lap.

you sat next on the sofa, slowly crawling until you were kneeling next to him.

you tilted your head, making sure he was fully asleep —you didn't really need to check— before looking down at his lap.

hesitantly.

should you take off the blanket first?

what if he wakes up?

will he tease you non-stop?

or will he blankly ask what is it that you're doing?

that'd be mortifying—

your thoughts were soon interrupted by a curious gaze falling on you, as well as a soft sigh from his lips.

“hm?”

he rubs one of his eyes with one hand, as the other eye focuses on you.

“oh… sorry.”

you quickly whisper, sitting on the heels of your feet, clearly flustered by being caught.

“what is it, my star?”

he asks with a little bit of concern, blinking slowly as he is getting used to the bright sunlight.

crap.

now what?

you swallow audibly, fidgeting with the blanket that lays on his lap.

“so… i just wanted to sit on your lap. if that's okay, of course.”

it is barely audible, really.

if it wasn't because xavier almost always speaks softly and has his ear trained by now, he might have missed it.

instead, he just looks at you.

and then, he takes off the blanket, gesturing at his lap with a soft gesture with his head.

inside, he's melting.

the way you hesitate.

the way you avoid looking into his eyes as you slowly slip into his arms, both your legs straddling him…

the way your cheeks feel smoking hot when he puts a strand of hair away from your face.

and it was because of a simple thing, really.

being on his lap shouldn't be a difficult request for you to make.

after all, he's cuddly, you two are a couple, he loves having you close…

it just makes sense.

however, xavier isn't complaining.

he understands to a certain degree keeping things for himself, and only acting out when he really needs to.

or when he feels like he might combust if he doesn't.

when you finally are satisfied with your position, you wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your embarrassed expression on his chest.

he covers your back with the light material of the blanket, this time holding you instead of the cushion.

he rubs his cheek against your head like a kitten, trying to move gently, slowly.

as to not scare you away or make you feel overwhelmed from the attention you got after your request.

“you know, you don't need to ask.”

he softly says, using both his hands to hold you in place, even when you don't plan to move anytime soon.

you look up at him, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“you always ask before doing something, xav.”

ah, it's true.

he always asks for your consent or if you feel like cuddling, watching a movie or even sharing a kiss.

yet, he wants you to know he doesn't care if you just… do whatever you feel like with him.

after all, he restrains himself for… other reasons.

meanwhile, you restrain yourself because you either feel too shy to share what you want out loud, or because you're afraid you'll get teased forever.

or worse; you're afraid he won't like what you have in mind.

so, logically, your cases are complete opposites.

and he will stop those thoughts, whatever it takes, because they could never happen.

he would never reject something as genuine as a need of yours.

even more so if that need involves him, and only he can take care of it.

“i know, starlight. just… everything that comes out of love, —out of you— will be more than welcomed. i promise.”

you stay quiet, but there's a subtle smile on your lips as you nod, relaxing little by little under the warmth that leaks through the windows on this particularly sunny day, and the warmth of his soft skin even with the cold air hitting from the ceiling above your two curled-up figures.

he doesn't care if summer just started; he's already hoping for a cozy autumn to come, so he can't keep treasuring all these moments when your self-restraint fades.

little by little.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

you went to his office, waiting for him as he treated patients.

outside his window, you could see a modern yet serene scenery.

the hallway was always silent, despite being constantly transited, so recognizing his calculated footsteps as he approached was easy.

when he entered, all of the tension in his shoulders left.

he sighed and walked up to you, —prettily sitting on his desk chair— to greet you with a soft kiss on the forehead.

you closed your eyes before looking up at him.

not moving from his chair, even when he obviously needed to sit down and keep working.

he didn't think much about it, as he carefully removed his coat and then opened a drawer to put away his lanyard with his favorite pen attached to it.

you followed him with your gaze, until he dragged another chair next to yours, upon seeing you weren't moving from his spot.

he didn't care; he wanted you to be comfortable, even if that meant having a bit of back pain as he typed into his laptop.

you frowned, looking down at your lap, and then back at his.

you thought your —plain and blank— gaze would be obvious enough for him to sit with you, or to even offer his lap as a chair instead.

…logically, it wasn't.

you didn't want to ask for it out loud, because it was embarrassing.

besides, zayne was just starting to be vocal about the things he wanted to do with you.

after all, you two were more into silent gestures and mutual understanding —like cute, shy lovebirds—.

when you rolled his chair back and stood up, you softly tapped his shoulder before patting his usual seat.

“here.”

he just looked up at you with a puzzled expression, before his gentlemanly self carefully guided you to sit back down.

you refused.

“zaynie, please sit…”

he noticed your insistence and the way your eyes avoided his so adorably.

were you feeling shy?

ah, now he got it.

he complied, sitting down on his ergonomic chair and continuing to type.

you stared at him.

then at his lap, like a cat preparing to hunt; identifying the prey and getting ready to pounce.

…only that you were a timid one, hesitating between wanting to be petted and not wanting to make a fool of yourself for seeming too needy.

you didn't notice how quietly yet intensely you'd been staring until he softly waved his hand in front of your face.

“love, is everything alright?”

here you go.

“can i sit?”

you asked quickly, but in a soft voice.

he blinked repeatedly before nodding.

what kind of question is that?

“well, of course you can sit,” he slowly and obviously stated before rubbing your arm. “i insist, my love, is everythi—?”

“on your lap, i mean.”

again, it was quick.

painfully embarrassing.

as if the faster you said it, the faster your shyness would go away.

but it didn't, because your skin was burning, your palms were sweaty, and you felt that unnerving tickling in your belly.

please just answer, please just answer, please just—

“...go ahead.”

he pushed himself away from the desk ever so slightly, spreading his legs for you.

he fixed his glasses, pushing them forward on the bridge of his nose.

okay.

no.

you couldn't do this.

retreat!

when you stepped back, wanting to hide from the overwhelming heat on your cheeks, he pulled you in.

he sat you on his left thigh, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other began to type again, as if this were nothing.

but it was serious; this was an important turn of events.

you were panicking, but luckily for you, your back was pressed against the left side of his chest.

and luckily for him, you couldn't see his red ears and blushy face, either.

after what felt like an eternity of silence except for the rather fast tapping on the keys, he spoke.

“you can always… ask for this. or anything, for that matter.”

you stayed silent, as his tone indicated he was about to say more.

“in private, at home… back at meow's café.”

you turned your head to look at him, with a playful yet small smile on your lips.

“wouldn't you be able to look at my cards like that?”

he smiled too, and suddenly, the tension you both felt eventually subsided.

“i'd still let you win.”

after turning your gaze back to his laptop, his words resonated.

you can always ask for this…

or ask for anything else.

anything at all.

you felt reassured, and a warm smile appeared on your face.

“you too can ask for anything.”

you whispered, faint enough for him to know you said something, but not clear enough for him to understand.

but when he peeked at your happy profile and the way you were relaxing against him, he didn't really need to ask.

he kissed your temple and continued working.

both of you in comfortable silence.

maybe, the next time you stared blankly at him and expected him to read your mind, he'd know exactly what you wanted.

he'd add it to the list of quiet gestures —or rather, shy yet secret demands— between you two.

[aeyumicore]

━ texting them when you're drunk

with: caleb, zayne, rafayel, sylus, xavier genre: sfw, fluff, crack warnings: alcohol consumption a/n: just want to say that their contact names might change. it took me longer to come up with their names than to write the smau and if i didnt just put it out there this wouldnt be posted until the weekend ofc this is my first smau so im still getting the hang of things :') please enjoy and bear with me

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[stardustdusting]

nerd xavier – stoic and nonchalant, but flustered and disheveled whenever mc is near him >//<

[bananabreads]

Dad!lads and their child when they're asked about "what do you want to be in the future?"

— ♥♥ Dad!Rafayel, Dad!Caleb, Dad!Sylus, Dad!Zayne, Dad!Xavier (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

inbox is open for requests and questions!

RAFAYEL —

The kindergarten teacher had asked to record a small video of the kids answering one simple question for a class project:

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Rafayel held the camera with steady hands, crouched down on the floor, his eyes twinkling as he whispered encouragements. You sat just out of frame, smiling softly as Seraphina stood in the middle of the room, her tiny hands gripping the hem of her ruffled dress.

“Alright, sweetie,” Rafayel said, adjusting the angle slightly, “ready when you are.”

Seraphina nodded with the kind of serious determination only a little girl could pull off.

Rafayel softly asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

And oh, did your little girl shine.

"I want to be a hunter like mommy!" she said proudly, puffing out her chest.

“And an artist like daddy, and—and I want to be a scientist and make a potion that will never make mommy and daddy die!”

You felt your heart stutter at that.

Rafayel’s eyes softened behind the lens, the faintest tremble to his fingers as Seraphina continued on without pause.

“And I want to be a singer like Granny Talia! And a model! And a knight! And—and a fairy princess! And someone who makes cupcakes! And maybe also someone who talks to animals, and I wanna go to space, and—and maybe also be a sea god sometimes too…”

The list just kept going.

She was breathless by the time she said, “And I wanna be happy. I wanna be everything I can be!”

Then she grinned toothily, that bright beam of pure, unfiltered joy that always had a way of melting both your and Rafayel’s hearts at once.

The camera lowered slowly as Rafayel straightened up. He didn’t even try to fight the soft laugh that escaped him, nor the tears that shimmered in his lashes. His eyes flicked over to you, full of something deep and reverent.

“She’s… really something.” he murmured, reaching out to wrap an arm around your waist.

You leaned into him without hesitation. “She’s everything to us.”

Seraphina ran up to the two of you with wild giggles, not waiting for permission before barreling into your legs and squeezing you both in a hug.

Rafayel knelt down and scooped her into his arms with a soft giggle followed by exaggerated kisses all over her cheeks, making her squeal with laughter.

“You wanna be everything, huh?” he teased gently, voice warm and quiet now, brushing her curls back. “You already are everything to mommy and daddy.”

"And if you ever forget that," you added, kissing her temple, "we'll remind you. Every single day."

She beamed between you both, all sunshine and love.

The three of you stayed wrapped in that perfect moment, one where your daughter dreamed of becoming the whole universe, and her parents stood proudly beside her, knowing in their hearts… she already was.

CALEB —

"I want to be a hunter like Mommy!"

Caleb stood just a little off screen, arms crossed over his chest, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His gaze flicked to you, where you stood quietly, and then back to your daughter as she puffed out her chest with conviction.

“She always says that,” you whispered with a smile.

Caleb didn’t take his eyes off her as he replied, “That’s because you’re her hero.”

And it was true.

She’d watched you prepare for missions, She’d sit at the table with her toy hunter gadgets and draw “battle maps” in crayons, talk about monsters and shadows and how “Mommy always wins.”

And Caleb? He never once tried to change her mind.

He’d kneel beside her, help her build cardboard armor and fake wanderers props. He’d cheer her on during her “training” sessions in the backyard and praise her for every stomp, swing, and roll.

“That’s my girl,” he would say, every single time.

Back in the present, their daughter turned to him mid answer and yelled, “Right, Daddy?!”

Caleb grinned, eyes soft. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

She beamed like the sun itself.

When the camera stopped, she ran to him immediately, and he caught her effortlessly, lifting her into his arms.

“You’re gonna be the fiercest hunter ever, huh?” he asked, booping her nose.

She giggled. “Even better than Mommy!”

Caleb raised a brow and looked over at you. “Hmmm... You sure about that mini pipsqueak? Mommy’s kinda scary at fighting wanderers.”

You laughed and crossed your arms.

Your daughter gasped dramatically, “Mommy is the scariest in the world!”

“And we love her for it,” Caleb added, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your daughter squished herself between you both, giggling.

She wanted to be like you. And Caleb? He’d spend a lifetime cheering her on.

SYLUS —

The question was simple.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

And your daughter didn’t even blink.

"I will be the boss of Onychinus! And I will rule N-109 zone! I will take over daddy!" she declared, standing on top of the living room coffee table like it was her throne, arms crossed, chin lifted with pure confidence.

Sylus, seated on the couch beside you, didn’t even try to hide the way his expression curled into an amused smirk. He leaned back slightly, eyes gleaming with something warm, and just a little dangerous.

“She said that like it’s already done,” you murmured, chuckling.

“Well, she is indeed my daughter,” he said, pride heavy in his voice. “Why aim small when you're born to lead?”

Your daughter turned to you both with a triumphant grin, her tiny black boots, custom made, of course—Sylus insisted, thudding softly as she stomped in place. “And I will have a cool jacket like Daddy! And a throne! And a big dragon!”

“Dragon, huh?” Sylus raised an eyebrow. “You planning to tame one or build one?”

“Both!” she answered like it was obvious.

You and Sylus chuckled, already so used to this—this boldness, this unstoppable energy that somehow mirrored him and challenged you both daily. But truthfully… you loved it. She had her father’s presence and your wit, a dangerous little combination wrapped up in a small little girl.

“She’s going to overthrow us both one day,” you teased, nudging Sylus gently.

He shrugged, looking at her with nothing but adoration. “She can have everything I built if it means I get to watch her rule it better.”

Your daughter pointed at the two of you then, finger extended like a true little commander. “Mommy and Daddy can be my advisors!”

Sylus gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And Mommy gets the second coolest throne,” she added with a wink.

You laughed. “wow. thanks, sweetie.”

In that moment, as she hopped off the table and ran straight into Sylus’ arms, demanding he help her “design her future base,” you exchanged a look with him, one that said, this is the life you never dared to imagine, and yet somehow, it’s yours.

And whether she rules N-109 or just your hearts forever, one thing was certain.

She was already the boss of this house.

ZAYNE —

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jasmine didn’t even hesitate.

“I want to be a doctor like Daddy... And a surgeon too..!”

Her voice was clear, determined, and her little hands clutched the toy stethoscope around her neck like it was the most important thing in the world.

Zayne, who had been watching from behind the kitchen counter, paused mid sip of his tea, his brows lifting slightly, a soft warmth blooming behind his eyes.

You smiled, already knowing what was coming next.

“…Because I want to help people like Daddy does,” Jasmine continued, chin up and gaze proud. “And I want to take care of Mommy and Daddy when they get old!”

You stifled a laugh at the last part. “Oh, we’re getting old already, huh?”

Jasmine nodded seriously. “Not yet… but someday! So I need to learn a lot!”

Zayne chuckled quietly, placing his cup down and kneeling beside her. “That’s a big dream, sweetheart,” he said gently, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I believe you can do it. You’ve got the heart for it.”

She beamed. “You think so, Daddy?”

He smiled, soft, proud, and a little emotional. “I know so.”

You watched as Jasmine threw her arms around his neck, and he caught her with ease, hugging her close as she mumbled something about needing a tiny white coat and a hospital badge of her own.

“She really is your mini me,” you whispered, leaning beside them.

Zayne turned his head to meet your gaze, his voice low and full of wonder. “She’s better. She’s everything good.”

You smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder as Jasmine began listing all the things she wanted to learn—heart surgery, brain surgery, taking blood without making people cry, and also inventing medicine that tasted like candy.

She looked between you both, eyes sparkling. “Will you still let me take care of you when I’m a doctor?”

Zayne smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You already do, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the house filled again with quiet love, of big dreams, tiny footsteps, and a father being everything his daughter hoped to become.

XAVIER —

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Your son blinked up at the camera, his hands gently folded in his lap. Unlike most kids who bounced in place or shouted their answers with wild excitement, he simply smiled, quiet and thoughtful, much like his father.

“…I want to be an astronaut,” he said, voice soft but sure, “so I can see space for myself. The stars are really quiet, like Daddy. I really like that.”

You sat beside him on the outdoor couch on your balcony, the telescope nearby already set up for your usual nightly ritual. Xavier, who was filming from just a few steps away, let out a breathy chuckle, barely audible, but full of love.

Your son glanced back at him, that same peaceful look in his eyes. “And I want to build my own ship. Daddy can help me… because he’s smart. And Mommy too. Mommy knows all the stars.”

You placed a hand gently on your son's small shoulder. “That’s a pretty big dream, sweetheart.”

He nodded, still calm, like dreaming of the cosmos was just a quiet truth already written in his chest. “I like big things. Like galaxies..."

Xavier finally lowered the camera, walking over and kneeling behind the two of you. He brushed a hand gently over his son’s hair and leaned down just a little.

“You don’t need to be loud to change the world,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Their son leaned back into him, the tiniest smile forming on his lips. “I wanna make people feel calm. Like the stars do. And like you do, Daddy.”

You felt the sting behind your eyes, this small, gentle boy was so deeply Xavier in the way he moved, thought, spoke. Not just in his blue eyes or quiet gaze, but in the way he felt like stillness in a rushing world.

You reached out and linked your fingers with both of theirs.

“Then I think,” you whispered, “you’re already everything you dreamed of being.”

The sky above twinkled in response, and in that quiet space between heartbeats, the three of you simply existed, like stars in your own small, safe galaxy.

[synne-ful]

Oh Xavier, the things you do for my inspiration 😩😩✨️✨️✨️

[wiavi]

[crimson-chains]

People were recommending this game to me so I decided to give it a try! I'll be honest and say it's probably not for me as I enjoy reading about romance, but, being romanced is another thing XD But, I do like having a boy on my phone like a tamagotchi and I do think they're pretty cute! My favorite is Xavier because I'm boring, lol

[nettgumo]

Ts looks cute

Why's Xavier looking at us like it's our fault

[nighttidee]

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Meeting the lads men for the first time as a non-Mc Reader.

ft: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb.

wc: 2523 (aprox 500 for each)

warnings: slightly graphic in Zayne's section (surgery), possible inaccurate depictions of motorcycles and piloting.

notes: first ever lads fic and first ever fic on tumblr. Idk if the guys will be ooc cause I don't fully know how to write them yet but you've got to start somewhere lmao!

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier needed to shed his mask and all the human lies behind it, and there was only one place he could do that: at Jeremiah's florist shop. Xavier knew the place like the back of his hand, and his friend always welcomed him with that familiar smile, a quiet comfort in his presence. Their bond had tightened over time; Xavier felt that in his bones, their friendship forged by duty and shared isolation.

And yet, as he stepped into the florist, he felt as if he'd never seen his friend's shop before. There was something more vivid about the plants, he realised, leaves were tangled together, petals blooming wildly, exposing bold and beautiful colours. The air was thick with the sweetness of flowers, and it through Xavier through a loop. He furrowed his brows.

Then, he heard the humming.

You appeared from around the corner, oblivious to his presence as you caressed the lilies. He watched as they lifted from their drooped posture into a bright and proud stance. Then, you moved to the roses next to them, and he watched as the brown-tinged petals flushed with a pink hue. A rustle came from above. He leaned forward, tilting his head curiously, foot scuffing the floor loudly.

You lurched backwards at the sound, and a vine hanging from the rafters of the ceiling swung downwards, catching you firmly by the arm.

You stared at Xavier.

His eyes flickered to the plant wrapped tightly around your limb, the end of the vine twitching agitatedly like a cat's tail. You followed his gaze and laughed, putting the vine softly, "Thank you."

The vine swayed softly and rose back up to its resting place.

"...Sorry," Xavier murmured awkwardly. He couldn't find himself to fully meet the gentleness of your expression.

"Don't worry about it," You smiled softly, following his eyes up to the vine. "Ah, my evol lets me manipulate plants. Sometimes they like to get minds of their own, though."

Recognition flashed through Xavier, sudden and bright. He nodded thoughtfully, "I understand." The light he commanded certainly liked to play by its own rules, after all.

"You're an evolver, too?" You inquired curiously, wiping your hands on your apron, trying to rid yourself of green marks and pollen on your hands.

"Yes," Xavier responded, ignoring the pulse in his heart as he watched you tilt your head slightly, "I manipulate light."

You clapped your hands, grinning, "Plants and light, we make the perfect match!"

"I..." Xavier's words lingered on his tongue.

Your cheeks flushed, "Oh! I, um, I didn- not like that- um-"

"Why the hell are the Peonies so clingy?!" A familiar voice yelled.

Both of you snapped your heads to find Jeremiah stumble into the room with a grunt, dragging two pots of brightly coloured peonies with him, some of their stems and roots wrapped around his body, coiled tightly.

You laughed loudly and moved to help. Xavier caught your eye and couldn't stop himself from cracking a smile.

He swore, the second you left, he was going to interrogate Jeremiah to find out as much about you as he could.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Sylus liked joyrides. Racing through the labyrinthine streets of the N109 Zone on his bike until everything was a blur was a favourite pastime of his, especially when fools tried to test his patience. 

His jacket clung to his skin as the wind whistled widely against his body as he increased his speed, listening to the rev of his engine, grinning beneath his helmet. Splitting through traffic was as easy as breathing; the honks of horns only made him laugh as he zoomed by. These streets were his, built from the blood and bones of his enemies and he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy them.

The roar of a loud, purring engine echoed by his side. He looked through his side mirror. Rapidly gaining on him was another motorcycle and its rider. Black leather seemed to glow against the street lights as the rider edged closer and closer, the vibrant pink accents on the bike burning like sunrise. What caught his attention, though, was the helmet, as dark and unreadable as the night, with two points sticking out of the top. 

Sylus laughed, someone wearing a helmet with cat ears.

You were side by side before he could let out another breath. From behind your visor, you looked at him, and he looked back. Seconds passed as you raced through the streets, neither of you fully looking at the road. Sylus hummed, something flaring in his chest.

He clenched his handles and slammed his foot down on the accelerator.

He could almost hear you laugh.

Gone was the irritation built by endless meetings and arrogant idiots, replaced by competitive fire that burned in his heart.  Sylus found himself grinning wildly as you challenged him, your bikes neck and neck as you left behind blaring cars. The wind rushed against him as you reared around a corner, knee so close to touching the tarmac, his heart leapt in his chest. He had no time to think as you flew through narrowing roads with drunken buildings leaning closer and closer together.

Sylus had many close calls on his bike, from crashes and bullets alike, but as you darted around a corner, he'd never slammed on his brakes harder. The two of you skidded sharply before a large stone wall that lurched toward the black sky. 

A beat of silence.

He stared at you.

You stared back. Then, with gloved hands, you pulled your visor up. Chaos, is all he thought as he studied the only part of your face he could see, your eyes, falling deep into the coy glimmer in them. 

Your chest rose and fell in a breathless laugh, "You lost."

"To what rules?" He hummed, heart heaving, pulling off his helmet entirely to match your gaze with his crimson one.

"Since when did the N109 Zone have rules?" You mused.

You didn't give him time to answer before you flicked your visor back down and revved your bike, speeding into the night. 

Sylus chuckled. He'd finally found an interesting puzzle to pick apart.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel had no inspiration. Most of his new canvases were still white, some full of awful colour and thrown into the corner to rot. Thomas kept hounding him about deadlines, and he felt like he was in chains. So, he did what he always did when the world got too loud: he went to sea. Rafayel's bare feet sank into the sand of the beach as he drew closer and closer to the waves that welcomed him.

Then, he heard the wild, frantic cries of a seagull. Probably hungry, maybe he could entertain himself and make an encore to his first seagull symphony. The sea sang to him as he rounded the corner, pulling himself around rocks still wet from high tide. Rafayel sighed as the wind brushed against his skin like a kiss, and he turned his head towards the cries, finding you there. 

Flapping its wings erratically, the seagull thrashed in your hold, but you didn't flinch, your attention laser-focused on removing the netting that had been caught around the poor creature's neck. Rafayel clenched his jaw; he'd almost forgotten how infectious humans were.

A squeal left the seagull as you finally released it from your arms, watching as it flung itself towards the blue sky, a mirror of the sea it caressed at the horizon. You smiled contentedly.

Rafayel tilted his head. "Animal activist?"

You turned, bright eyes glowing as you shook your head, "Marine biologist."

"So you spend all your time with fish," He hummed.

"I do," You laughed, "And you? What do you spend all your time with?"

"Paint. I'm a painter. Of the ocean, mostly," Rafayel answered, the words spilling from his lips like a waterfall, he rushed to catch them, but they were already flowing out of his reach. He waited for the questions, the comparisons, the shift in attitude, but all he got was a quiet smile.

You weren't looking at him but at the sea, "I don't blame you. If I had any artistic talent, I'd devote all my time to understanding something as complex as the ocean."

Something in his chest fluttered. "Complex?"

"Yeah. The sea is as brutal as it is beautiful. It's home to so much life, I mean, it is the place where life on this planet first started. It's also home to death and destruction. It's wild and untamable, but it's also full of love," You breathed, almost whispering as the wind tickled your hair.

Rafayel's mouth went dry. He stared at you, sitting on the sand like you never wanted to leave, and something in his body pulsed with vibrancy. He looked towards the ocean, his home, and felt like he was seeing it again for the first time.

He said nothing to you as he turned on his heel and marched back to his villa. There was canvas waiting to be painted, with the colours of the sea and the shade of your eyes in the sunlight.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

His uniform was burning against his skin, forcing him to suffer beneath the sun as he stood with other officials of the Farspace Fleet. Caleb would have much rather been in his ship, in the Deepspace tunnel, actually doing something useful. He'd much rather that than standing in the stands waiting for the seniors of the Aerospace Academy to complete their exams and compete for the Fleet's attention. Citizens looked at him and whispered behind their hands, muttering about the mysterious new Colonel.

He gritted his teeth, glad for the sunglasses he wore, lest everyone see the foul look in his eyes. He tapped his foot impatiently as he stared out toward the open sky, full of clouds, barely registering the obstacle course before him. He remembered doing something similar.

 "You aren't going to search out new talent, Colonel?"

Caleb glanced at the Major to his side, "What talent? The Academy barely produces good cargo pilots."

"Such a scathing criticism!" Brigadier General Nix laughed as he approached with one of his Captains, "But not entirely unfounded, I suppose. Did you hear ab-"

"Look!"

They turned. 

And there they were, spaceships zooming across the sky, jolting with the eagerness for victory. Amongst the janky movements through the obstacles, one of the Aerospace Academy's ships was being handled with an iron fist. Each turn was tight as the ship jerked through the course, the engine roaring fiercely. 

Caleb leaned forward.

He almost laughed when the ship barrel rolled through a hoop. Just who was pulling tricks during their exam?  Who had enough skill? His eyes stayed trained on the vehicle as they darted past ship after ship, pulling into first place like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

Every ship landed within a few minutes, but Caleb's focus remained only on one, the first one. He hadn't felt anything this strongly for a long time. His gloved hands gripped the railing as he watched on with rapt interest as students slowly crept out of their shuttles, sheepishly peering up at their spectators.

All except one.

Each step of yours was assured as you made your way to the front of the crowd. Caleb pulled off his sunglasses. The pilot of the ship he'd been invested in. The best pilot he'd seen, aside from him, of course. The Academy's uniform suited you, and Caleb wondered what you'd look like in the Fleet's one instead.

You peered upwards.

The smirk on your lips made his heart stutter. You locked eyes with him, unafraid as you called out, "Look at the top score on the exam results and you'll find my name next to it!" 

Caleb grinned, "You think?"

"I know," You laughed as you waved coyly, only to walk away right after. The others followed you like sheep as you strode towards your future with the surest steps he'd ever seen.

Caleb watched you until he couldn't see you anymore. He loosened his tie. Then, he turned to his fellow soldiers, "When does the Academy release the results to us?"

He was going to get a new pilot, after all. And he couldn't wait to find out how well your talent competed with his.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Sunset was smothered in grey clouds as Zayne sat on a bench, listening to the world around him. He felt like the bubble he was in had popped the moment he'd finished his surgery and stepped out of the operating room. The bench was cold, even to him, but he didn't bother to move; he wanted a few moments to himself, needed them really. 

In the early hours of the morning, a call came from another institution, pleading for Zanye and his team to do an emergency transplant on an eight-year-old boy who finally had a chance to get a strong heart to replace his failing one. He'd gone without hesitation, spent hours in that sterile room, carrying the weight of a child's life on his shoulders, and now he was as exasperated as he was proud. 

His chest heaved as he pulled off his glasses, shutting his eyes a she listened to the life around him, the birds, the people, the cars, all so loud compared to the mechanical beeping of monitors and the squelch of blood as he used his scalp to cut through the boy's skin. He clenched his eyes closed, trying to will himself to shed the sergeon that had frozen the civilian in him.

Footsteps approached.

He sighed and pulled his glasses back on.

"Doctor Li?" 

He looked to his side and saw you standing there, familiar white coat draped over your shoulders as you smiled down at him. He studied your features and noted he faint shadows beneath your eyes, as tired as he was.

"Yes? Is everything all right?" He murmured. Had something gone wrong after the surgery?

"Yes!" You smiled, "I just wanted to say thank you."

Zayne furrowed his brows. "For what?"

"For doing Cody's heart transplant. I've been his Doctor since he was six. It's been such a long journey for him, I almost couldn't breathe when I got the call about a donor." Your gaze burned with warmth. "And now, thanks to you, he can finally do all the things on his bucket list. Play basketball, go see movies with his siblings, life outside of white walls and appointments."

"I was just doing my job like any Doctor," Zayne spoke softly.

You nodded, "I know. Doesn't mean the operation was any less difficult."

He didn't know how to answer that.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a lollipop with a shiny red wrapper. "Here. Something to help you feel real again."

"To help me feel real again?" He inquired, hesitantly taking the sweet you'd given, unable to deny his desire for something sugary, something to take away the chemical taste in his mouth.

You hummed, "Yeah. In our profession, we can't always be people, we can't flinch when we see blood, we can't show disgust, we can't show worry. Sometimes we just sort of...shut off a bit, like we're on autopilot. At least...that's what I think."

Zayne couldn't verbalise how much he understood. Something in his chest softened.

You sent him a bright smile, "Anyway! See ya!"

He watched as you disappeared back into the hospital with a smile. He'd have to ask someone for your name.

Professional curiosity, he told himself as he unwrapped the sweet, grinning when he tasted cherry on his tongue.

[vellatrelle]

The new Xavier secret promise card😭💥‼️