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[Translated Comic] Xavier's Silence

Original artist: 香辣鱿鱼拌饭酱

Source ll Permission

❀ Please do not repost! ❀

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Despite everything, its still you

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‎₍^ ܸ. . .ܸ ྀི^₎ʃ ٛ

[tsubasa18]

💍anon - I just finished re-reading my favourite book, and now I'm just wondering what you think the lads guys would be like for a reader who is also a massive bookworm?

(also, I love love love your darker stuff so please don't be worried about posting it!❤️)

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Bookworm

𝒲𝒾��𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ just pure fluff

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys with a bookworm reader

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- He adores the fact that you’re a bookworm. His dreamy, delicate little wife with her legs kicked up on a satin chaise, flipping pages with starry eyes? He wants to paint you like that. Then lock you in a room filled with nothing but books, silk, and him.

- Jealous of fictional men. Absolutely. If you get too into a spicy romance book and start giggling or sighing dreamily, he’ll crawl into your lap like a cat and whimper, “You like him more than me, huh? What’s he got? Wings? Horns? A dark curse?”

- Mimics the book characters to make you laugh. You mention you’re reading about a cursed warlock? Next thing you know, he’s walking around the house in a black velvet cloak, holding a wine glass like it’s blood. “My dearest wife… have you brought me the final moonstone?”

- Doodles hearts and notes in your Kindle case. “DON’T FORGET YOUR REAL HUSBAND.” Or draws himself in your favorite book scenes, replacing the male lead. (He prints out fanart of himself as Lucien Raventhorn, don’t lie.)

- Collects books with pretty covers and doesn’t care what’s inside. “It’s pink and shiny, obviously you’ll love it, cutie.” You have 12 unread books that he bought just because the spines look cute on the shelf.

- Gets very clingy if you’re reading for hours and “forget” to give him attention. Will lay his head in your lap and mumble while you try to focus: “Pearlieee… this guy sounds so mean. You like mean boys now? You want me to start being cruel to you? Maybe I’ll go feral. Start a war. Burn a city.”

- But if you ever cry during a tragic scene, he’s instantly serious. Pulls the Kindle from your hand and cups your face. “You okay, pearl? Want me to make it better?” Then gets unreasonably pissed at the book. “What do you mean they died?! Who do I have to kill!?”

- Also: He writes you fanfic. Secretly. You’ll find a file named “SunflowerQueen_Vol1” on your tablet and it’s Rafayel’s self-insert fantasy romance where you’re the ethereal empress and he’s your cursed knight who’s obsessed with you and dies dramatically (but hotly) in your arms.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- Thinks it’s adorable. He finds you nestled in his massive custom reading nook with your knees up and your little Kindle glowing? Instant serotonin. He strokes your hair while reading patient reports beside you, secretly syncing his breathing to yours.

- Buys you medical romance and sultry surgeon smut books to tease you. “This one apparently features a brooding, emotionally unavailable doctor… sounds familiar?”

- When you’re deep into a spicy book, he’ll glance over and mutter with a smirk, “That book must be better than the real thing, huh?” But you always find him right behind you ten minutes later, kissing down your neck, whispering, “Let’s see if fiction can compete with fact.”

- Customises your collection like he’s managing your meds. Categorized. Synced. Updated. One time you couldn’t find your favorite sci-fi trilogy and Zayne just calmly pulled a physical leatherbound version off the shelf, of course he sourced it first edition.

- Keeps an eye on your posture while you read for hours and gently adjusts your legs or massages your back. “You’ll get stiff sitting like that, sweetheart.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- Thinks you’re the cutest thing in the universe when you’re reading. He loves your dreamy sighs, your little gasp when you hit a plot twist, your eyes shining when you talk about a book.

- Falls asleep in your lap while you’re reading, or tugs you under the covers. “Let me dream to the sound of your voice, starlight…”

- You’re like his personal storyteller. He’ll ask, “What’s that one about?” and you excitedly explain the plot of a spicy mafia romance and he’ll just blink and go, “…Interesting. Continue.”

- Memorizes your favorite narrators. Xavier loads up your audiobooks on your devices with enhanced audio filters so it sounds like you’re in another world. Sometimes he even records himself reading your favorite passages in that soft, sleepy tone of his.

- Thinks it’s funny how you’re immune to most dangers but will cry over a fictional death or spiral after finishing a trilogy. Cuddles you silently, brushing your hair while you wail, “I MISS THEM.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- Laughs at your dramatic reactions like, “You’re literally crying over a paper man named Aaron?” but he still hunts down rare collector’s editions of all your favorite fantasy series and has an entire wing of the estate turned into your personal library.

- Absolutely reads over your shoulder, then scoffs like it’s dumb… but then you catch him pacing later like he’s lowkey invested in the plot.

- If you ever get too into a spicy book, he’ll yank the Kindle out of your hands with a smug smirk and go, “Is this what you’re into now, kitty? You know I can do better than a cursed prince.”

- Buys you risqué titles on purpose just to see your face when you open them. “This one has a warning label. Let me know if it’s too much for you.”

- But when you talk excitedly about a story’s politics, worldbuilding, or magic system, he actually engages seriously. “You liked how the council was overthrown? Hm. Remind me to show you how a real power grab works.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- You’ve been a bookworm since childhood and he’s always been the one carrying your backpack of novels when it got too heavy. He still teases you like, “How many books do you need for a single trip to the garden?”

- Keeps a blanket in every room because he knows you’ll curl up somewhere random and read for hours. If he finds you passed out on the floor with your Kindle face down, he’ll tuck you in and carry you to bed.

- Tries to get into your favorite books just to impress you. Reads them in secret so he can say, “Yeah, I like when that guy—Lucien?—saves her from the wyverns. Not bad.”

- Feels a little jealous when you get too emotionally attached to fictional men, especially when you sigh and murmur, “I wish someone would talk to me like that.” He just throws an arm around your waist like, “You want poetic? I’ll give you poetic, pipsqueak.”

- He reads aloud to you when you’re tired, in that low, gravelly voice. Sometimes spicy scenes, sometimes tragic ones. He watches your face more than the book. “You like when he calls her that? I bet I could do it better.”

@gideonsbestiefrfr for u pookie :D

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Credits and disclaimer: https://tinyurl.com/3jk2c6sr

[tsubasa18]

Lads Guys Feed a Self-Sabatoging User ♡

(self-sabatoging as in, starving themselves on purpose)

cw/tw: gn! reader (sylus and zayne's readers are implied to be short). a lot of these are suggestive, but not really nsfw/smut. reader doesn't talk, and is implied mute. self harm (starving, but also scratching from Sylus's reader). insecurities (and a whole lot of them: body/weight, face, academic, creative/artistic). implied episode with xavier's reader. codependency. dissociating. feeding (force feeding from caleb). age regression from reader if you squint. use of pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie, kitten, pipsqueak, cutie).

a/n: idk why I even make stories anymore I suck at them and barely anyone cares. This is just self-indulgent since I'm going through an episode and haven't eaten the whole day and I thought I'd share this anyway. I'm sorry if I mischaracterized any of the li's. caleb is my main and I barely pay attention to xavier or sylus that much.

lazy layout because im tired and hungry, sorry.

Xavier

Xavier pouts, placing the bag of fried chicken on the nightstand beside you. He crosses his arms, eyeing you for a moment.

“So that brain of yours is the reason I haven't heard from you all day huh?” He groans, sitting down beside you. He lets out an exaggerated sigh, and his voice becomes quieter, more childish.

“And here I am, wanting to enjoy some fried chicken with my partner…”

He suddenly feels you tug at his sleeve. He glances at you, still keeping up the act as he sees the guilt in your eyes, the silent plea. He sighs, suddenly laying on top of you as he rests his head against your chest.

“I'm really low on attention, yknow. I'm gonna start sulking like you in a minute.” He nuzzles against your chest, his index finger moving to your cheek as he pokes you lightly. “Tell your brain to leave you alone.”

He sees the corners of your lips twitch, threatening to smile. The act is working, so he doesn't relent just yet. His arms wrap around your waist, and as he gets ready to whine some more, he suddenly feels the growl of your stomach.

“See? Even your stomach can't resist some good ol’ fried chicken.”

He reaches over to the bag, opening the box of chicken and grabbing a leg. He shoves the chicken leg in your face, nudging it against your lips.

“I know you want some,” he teases, a smug smirk on his face. “C'mon honey, just a bite, please?”

He watches as you reluctantly part your lips, biting down on the crispy chicken leg. Your eyes sparkle, a faint smile on your lips that tempts him into pinching your cheeks and teasing you even more. “You're so damn cute,” he whispers, before leaning in and licking the stray crumb from the corner of your lips, feeling you squirm underneath him.

“Can we hurry and eat, please? I'm starting to get an appetite for something else, too…”

Sylus

Sylus takes his time moving to the room. His aloof expression as he gets closer to the door masks his anticipation to see you. He grabs the knob, opening it gently as a smirk creeps on his face.

But then, right as he was about to call out your name, he pauses.

He sees your body curled up on the bed, and for a moment he thinks you're sleeping. He scoffs, walking to the bathroom on the left side of the room to get changed. The sound of you shifting underneath the covers however, causes him to pause once more.

“Sweetie…are you awake?” He watches as you nod, so he makes his way over to the side of the bed you're laying on. “So you're upset then. Tell me what's wrong.” He kneels down in front of you, but you don't respond to him. Your head is buried in the pillow, so he can't read your expression. He sighs, glaring at you silently. But he isn't irritated, rather he's just confused and worried.

“At least let me see your face,” but you shake your head this time, clenching onto the pillow. His eyebrow twitches, and he lets out a grunt at your stubborn defiance. He moves his hand to your hair, slowly gripping on it as a warning. But you still don't move, so he yanks, not enough to hurt you too much, but enough for him to finally get a look at your face.

“I value your choice, kitten. But when you start to concern me like…this…”

He's suddenly at a loss for words. His jaw clenches as he scans your face with his eyes, noticing the fresh scaring all over. This isn't the first time you've done this, so he knows what's bothering you. He grabs your hand, tugging you out of the bed. He doesn't say anything as he makes his way to the bathroom, but the way he tightens his grip on your hand tells you everything.

He stops once he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, pulling you against his chest. He grabs your shoulders, straightening your posture. He then kneels down once more, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at the mirror, at your reflection.

“Do you know what I see?”

You shake your head.

“Well, I see a beautiful, strong person in front of me. And, I also see someone who's incredibly lucky to be by their side.”

You give him a look, and he smirks at your stubbornness, tapping his index finger on your temple.

“Of course, the beautiful person I am referring to here is you, and the one who is lucky is me.”

He watches as you begin to tear up, and his thumb gently rubs your lower eyelid as a tear escapes. “Kitten, if I ever thought less of you, you wouldn't be here right now. Remember that.”

He watches you nod before his hands move to your hips, suddenly picking you up and carrying you over to the sink before sitting you down on top of the counter.

“You didn't eat, did you?” You glance down at your thighs with a guilty look on your face, and he sighs.

“Luke! Kieran!”

–

You lay on the bed, sitting up. He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, a bowl of fruit in his other hand.

“If Mephisto was a real bird, this would be exactly how I would feed him,” Sylus smirks, watching as you open your mouth for him to move a piece of fruit to your lips. You playfully bite down on his finger, before licking around it. He shifts, but doesn't pull away, instead moving the finger you licked to your bottom lip, tapping against it.

“Ah-Ah. I'm not in the mood to punish naughty birds right now.”

-Is what he says, but the way he's eyeing your neck…you know that mood won't last very long.

Rafayel

“Cuuutie!” Rafayel calls out, walking into the studio. He sets the bag in his grip down on a nearby table. He glances around the mess he left behind earlier while he was painting. He groans, scratching the back of his head as he lets out a sigh. “Heeey! If you clean this mess up for me, I'll give you-”

He stops when he sees you standing in front of one of his most recent paintings hanging on the wall. That one was just for practice, to get his creative juices flowing.

“Don't stare at it too long, or you'll get sucked in!” He jests, walking closer to you as he wraps his arms around your waist.

And then he feels it. Your stomach growls, and you feel…flatter. He tenses up, noticing how unresponsive you are, the unreadable expression on your face. “C-Cutie…?” He calls out, but you don't respond to him. Your eyes are fixated on his painting. He gulps, not knowing what to do or how to get you to respond to him. He suddenly notices the unfinished painting on the easel beside him, and it clicks.

“Hey…you're not comparing my art to yours, are you?” You flinch, and he sighs, relaxing a bit as he nuzzles his face into your neck. “How many times do I have to tell you, hm?” He turns you around so you face him, his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. “Standards used to critique art are unnecessary rules. Besides, I think your art is quite lovely already.” His smile widens when he feels you start to relax.

And then your stomach rumbles again, and he lets out a sigh as he grabs your hand and leads you to the front of the studio, where a takeout bag rests on the coffee table.

“Sit. We're eating.” So you sit, watching as he unties the bag. “Sushi. Your favorite-oh, and I asked for no cucumbers this time. You can praise me now, yknow.” Rafayel takes the containers out of the bag and sets it in front of you as he sits down beside you. He opens it for you, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and swiftly rolling them together.

“Say ‘aaaaaah’!” You blink at him, but reluctantly open your mouth anyway. He scoffs, not quite expecting you to actually obey him. He takes a piece of sushi from your container and slowly moves it to your lips. You bite down on it, letting out a hum at the taste as you swallow. He watches as your face brightens up, letting out a ‘tsk’ before moving to grab another piece of sushi.

“See how satisfying it is to eat? So like, maybe we shouldn't starve ourselves again…yeah?”

Zayne

Zayne takes his coat off, hanging it on the rack as he shuts the door behind him.

He calls out your name, but you don't respond. He quickly tenses at the lack of response from you, moving to the bedroom before opening the door.

He scans the room, but he doesn't see you. He pulls out his phone, checking to see if you responded to the messages he had sent you earlier, or even left him on read…but nothing.

He panics, but before he starts turning tables, his eyes glance over at the bathroom. He knocks gently, hearing a swish sound from the tub, but you still don't respond to him. “I'm coming in,” he sighs, slowly opening the door.

His hand moves to the wall, quickly finding the light switch before flicking the lights on. He watches as you squint, groaning at the sudden light.

“Sorry, but I need to see you properly.” He walks over to you, kneeling down as he gets a good look at your face. “What's the matter?”

You press your lips together, glancing away from him. He frowns, but he doesn't push you further. Instead he grabs your hand from under the water, analyzing it.

“Your hands are pruney. You've been in here too long. Let's go.”

When you show no signs of moving, he decides to scoop you up instead. He places you onto the toilet lid, grabbing a towel as he dries you up. After he's finished, he carries you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the edge of the bed as he finds you something to wear.

“Arms up.”

—

He's in the kitchen, cooking a meal for the both of you once he notices you haven't eaten all day. As the rice cooks and the chicken is in the oven, he moves to the kitchen table, getting ready to rest for a bit when he notices what's on top of the table.

His diplomas. His PhD and his Masters Degree, to be exact. Zayne was a humble guy, so he never hung them up on a wall. He stored them away in a chest. He figured you must have dug them out and placed them there, but why is the question.

And then it suddenly dawns on him.

He enters the room with two plates in his hands. He sets his plate down while handing you the other plate. Usually he would mind eating in the room, but today is different.

He watches as you stare at your food, but you make no attempt at eating. He sets his plate down, grabbing your plate with one hand as he pulls you closer to him with the other.

“My lap.” And you reluctantly obey, sitting in his lap, facing him. He takes your fork and begins to feed you, moving the fork full of chicken to your lips, nudging the piece of meat until you finally decide to part your lips to eat.

“I saw the diplomas on the table.” He watches you freeze, almost choking on your food. He pats your back for comfort. “Darling, what did I say about comparing yourself to me?” He sets the plate down beside his own, his hands moving to cup your cheeks.

“You are a very talented, very smart person. Just because it takes longer for you to learn some things than others, doesn't make you ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’.” He sees the blush creeping on your cheeks, the slight pout, and he stops himself from scoffing at the sight. He grabs the plate again, grabbing the spoon and scooping up some rice. You start to whine about him feeding you, so he hands you the plate. He watches you as you eat, a shine in his eyes only reserved for you.

“Are you thinking about going to school? I know how much you're interested in Computer Science.” He watches as your eyes glance down at him, seeing the small sparkle in your depths before it quickly fades. Zayne leans down, his forehead resting on your chest as he hums.

“You do realize that you're lucky enough to know one of the smartest people in the world, right?” Sarcasm is etched in his words as he speaks, not wanting to sound boastful or arrogant. He nuzzles his forehead against your chest, feeling your arms wrap around him. “If it's help you need, then I will gladly be your tutor. Even if it means staying up later then I already do most nights. I won't mind it.”

He sits back up, staring at you quietly, watching you lost in thought. He gently smiles, appreciating that you're taking his words into consideration, before nudging you, bringing you back into the present.

“Let's finish our food first.”

Caleb

You didn't know that Caleb was spying on you the whole day. I mean, who wouldn't be tempted when you don't even bother to look at their concerned text messages, or their numerous missed calls.

Caleb watched you sulk in your bed for hours whenever he got the chance to, watched you staring up at the ceiling as you clearly were dissociating. You've laid in that bed for nearly the entire day, only getting up to use the bathroom. You never walked to the kitchen, not once.

“This is exactly why I wanted you to live with me.”

He hurries back home, heavy footsteps getting closer to the door. His anxiety causes him to drop the keys just as he pulled them out of his pocket. He lets out a sigh, reaching down to collect what fell before unlocking the door.

He moves straight to the room you reside in, not bothering to take his boots off or his coat. “Pipsqueak!” He shouts, warning you that he's home in case you didn't hear him open the front door. He stops right in front of the door to the bedroom, letting out a sigh before resting his hand on the door knob. “I'm comin’ in, okay?”

When he opens the door, he immediately frowns seeing the current state you're in. You're clearly exhausted. Your eyes continue to look up at the ceiling, as if you didn't even notice that he walked in. He steps closer to you, gently putting his hand on your shoulder as he whispers your name.

Your eyes snap at him, eyes widening as you blink a few times. “Hey, what's got you so upset, hm?” You shook your head, too exhausted to use your voice. He understood immediately, instead choosing to scoot closer to you, laying down at the empty space beside you as his hands suddenly inch closer to your waist.

But you didn't notice, not until his gloved fingers met contact with your skin.

You flinch at the touch, pulling away from him. His eyes narrow down at you, studying your reaction. He notices the grimace in your expression, but he also notices the guilt in the depths of your eyes as well. The way you sucked your stomach in as soon as his fingers grazed your skin.

“Don't tell me the reason why you didn't eat today is,” he pauses, his eyes glancing down at your stomach once more. “...because of your weight?”

Your breath hitches, which answers his question.

“And who's the bastard responsible for suddenly making you feel this insecure, huh?”

He was careful not to touch you, but he wanted so badly to show you how much he loved you through his touch. He wanted to wrap his arms around your waist, squeeze your thighs with his hands, kiss all over your stomach while singing you sweet praises and affirmations.

He coughs, face suddenly blushing from his inappropriate thoughts.

His eyes notice your gaze trailing down to your phone beside you. You point at it while looking up at him, and he nods in return. He reaches over to grab your phone, putting in your password with ease.

The first thing he sees is a post, and the next thing he does is grab you by your shoulder to pull you closer to him as he tosses the phone to the side. His hands meet your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You notice the serious expression on his face, the same expression he uses as Colonel.

“Listen to me,” he growls, his lips grazing your ear as his hands on your shoulder tightens. “That person doesn't even compare to you. Not even close.” His lips move to your neck, placing gentle kisses that cause you to slightly squirm. He glances up at you, meeting your gaze at him.

“Do we understand? Or are you more of a visual learner?” He bites down on your neck as he continues to stare, not too harsh, but not light either. The bite, his sharp gaze, silent warnings that he won't go easy on you. You shudder, quickly nodding. He smirks, moving his lips to your cheek as he places a gentle kiss there.

“Right answer. I ordered food on my way here. Figured my cooking would take too long. It should be here at any moment.”

—

Caleb’s hand rests on your waist, his fingers caressing the side of your stomach. His other hand forces your jaw open, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “Open wide baby.” Your lips part for him, and he proudly smiles at your obedience. He moves his hand from your jaw to the spoon, getting a spoonful of the stew sitting on the nightstand before slowly moving the utensil to your mouth. “Got somethin’ light. Figured you might want to gradually start eating again.” You swallow, letting out a hum which he chuckles to in response. “Hm. Can't believe I'm feeding you even now. Not that I'm complaining though.” You open your mouth again, which he quickly gets another spoonful of stew before bringing it to your lips. He lightly pats your stomach as you swallow it down.

“Starvin’ yourself ain't healthy, pipsqueak. If you ever feel insecure again, let it all out on me instead, ‘kay?”

[tsubasa18]

I wish I could have gotten HD screenshots qwq….

Disclaimer:

I do not own Love and Deepspace, or any of the related characters. Love and Deepspace is created by INFOLD PTE. LTD. and owned by INFOLD PTE. LTD.. These edits are intended for entertainment purposes and personal usage ONLY. I am not making any profit from these edits. All rights of the Love and Deepspace belong to INFOLD PTE. LTD..

CREDITS:

Original images(ingame images)/characters: infold games (INFOLD PTE. LTD.)

https://twitter.com/Love_Deepspace

https://loveanddeepspace.infoldgames.com/en-EN/home

Credits and disclaimer: https://tinyurl.com/3jk2c6sr

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what if you punished Xavier for breaking his promises?

⟡ pairing: xavier x reader ⟡ word count: 2.6k ⟡ content: hurt&comfort(heavy on the hurt, comfort coming in part 2), what if MC was much angrier at Xavier for keeping secrets, punishing Xavier, and then he flips the script, semi-canon compliant, sorta established relationship(?), well this def ain’t their first time, explicit sexual content, posessive! Xavier, slightlymanipulative! Xavier ⟡ A/N: feverish attempts got me by the throat and didn't let go

The mug clatters on the quartz countertop, ringing with a ferocity that fractures the night air. 

Whoops. 

Normally, if you weren’t in such a foul mood, you would’ve checked if it chipped. Maybe even run an apologetic hand over its ceramic surface. But you only feel a vindictive twinge before you tug open the fridge, pretending not to hear the creak of the bedroom door behind you. 

When you turn back with the mug of water in hand, you’re not surprised to see him. 

“What,” you snap, “afraid I didn’t know where to get the water?” 

Like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, Xavier offers a sheepish smile, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe, before today, in the wake of the umpteenth broken promise, you would’ve caved at such an expression. If it wasn’t for bumping into him at the hospital— the awkward pause before Jerimiah’s hastily made excuse— if it wasn’t for dropping by his apartment on a whim— the yawning silence that greeted you as you opened his door— if it wasn’t for you insisting for his coordinates— panic clawing up your throat as you raced through the mist, your stomach sinking when you found him, an ominous red glow collaring his throat, his body slumped against yours—

Stone. 

You are stone. 

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, moonlight skimming the outline of his body. Silver hair slightly mussed, doleful and slow blinking blue eyes— the celestial glow lovingly caresses his form, blurring shadows and edges, like even the night is helpless to his will. An angel fallen to earth— too easy to trust, too beautiful to doubt. Built to be good, crafted to be yours— he offers himself in careful submission, a silent apology. 

But you know better. 

Xavier lingers a moment, and then leans casually against the counter, the black cotton of his sleepwear gaping open at the chest. The faint blush of fever taints his skin, adding a rosy pink hue to the shadowed hallows—

You jerk your eyes away. 

“Here.” Stiffly, you present the bottle of medicine and mug of water in each hand. “Drink it and take your medicine.” 

“Oh…” His hands gingerly take them, brushing your fingers. The weight of his stare burns into your head. “Okay.” 

The clink of the mug and the soft slurp of water tells you that he’s obediently doing as you said. So his ears do work just fine—

“Are you going home?” 

You flinch, not expecting his voice to be so close. His steel blue gaze— still and fathomless as dark lake waters— meets yours, watching you with a careful intensity. 

“What do you think?” you snipe. 

The corners of his mouth twitch downward. 

“If you leave,” he says in that soft voice of his, closing the distance with another measured step, gaze flicking across your face— eyes, mouth, jaw. “And my fever comes back in the middle of the night…” 

He stops just a hair's breadth away, hot breath puffing at your lips. 

“What if I die?” His eyes are wide and glossy underneath the moonlight. “Will anyone notice?” 

You snort despite yourself. Transparent— clearing fishing, hoping to reel you in. But when you place your hand on his shoulder to keep some distance, your concern spikes anyway. Annoying how easily the worry rises, how instinctive it still is. 

“Then my fragile neighbor better get back in bed.” Both of your hands clasp onto his shoulders, turning him back around. 

“But—”

Steering him back in the direction of his room, you ignore his plaintive protests that trail behind you. It’s not hard— he lets you, grumbling but pliant as you gently bully him back into his bed and under the covers. As you rise to leave, his hand clamps around your wrist. 

“You’re not going to ask… why?” His voice, soft and plaintive, tugs at you; you refuse to look back at him. 

“You can ask where I’ve been, who I’ve met, what I’ve done without telling you…” With each pointed question, his hands coax you inch by inch, step by step until your knees buckle, and you stumble backward into the bed. Your back meets his chest, and he folds himself to you— like he’s trying to curl back into the warmth he was torn from, like hands desperately cupping fading sunlight. You keep your spine ramrod straight, refusing to melt into his warmth. 

“If I asked, would you tell me everything?” you say lightly, and for a blessed moment, you sound as hollow as you want to feel. “Not that it matters. I know you already came up with excuses— probably rehearsed them all in your head.” 

His breath hitches, his grip tightening around your waist. 

“If you’re angry,” he murmurs in the crook of your neck, “take it out on me. I’m too weak to fight back.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I will,” you promise darkly. “Just not now.” You squirm, hands prying open his, trying to escape his hold. “Let me go.” 

“No.” 

“Xavier,” you snap. “I mean it, I’m not doing this anymore—”

A startled yelp escapes you as the world tilts, and then, you’re sprawled on top of him, thighs straddling his hips. His sleepwear hangs crooked on his frame, the buttons long undone, the fabric slipping off a shoulder and pooling at the elbows. It drapes across his body like provocation, framing the sculpted lines of his arms and the rise and fall of his bare chest. 

“You said I needed to be cared for,” he says, dipping his head, gaze slanting through his lashes. Your wrist is locked in his grip, palm flat against his chest, right over the frantic pounding of his heart. “Is leaving me alone in this room how I’ll be taken care of?” 

“I’m not in the mood—” His grip is gentle, but when you tug, it doesn’t budge. 

“Then punish me,” he breathes. 

Tendrils of heat crawl up your spine like wisps of smoke— a clenching of your jaw, a tightening in your ribs. You try to breathe it away, try to cling to the cool detachment you’ve constructed like armor. 

“Please.” His gaze tries to catch yours. “Don’t go.” 

Your pulse spikes. He’s too close. Feverish and warm and maddeningly there, a presence you can’t ignore. Your palm burns against his chest where he’s pressed it, the wild pulse vibrating into your skin, echoing in your head. Heat radiates from him— heavy and cloying— seeping into you like a slow infection, infuriating in how easy it worms past your defenses. 

Why? 

Why does he keep doing this to you? 

Why does he make promises he just plans on breaking? 

“What does it matter?” you grind out. “You’ll just do it again.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Your breath hisses past your clenched teeth— white hot rage splintering your brittle composure with the sickening crunch of bone fracturing under pressure. Your fist slams into his shoulder, but it barely makes him flinch— only uselessly rebounds, as if glancing off stone. 

“Stop— stop saying that! You say whatever you want but you n-never—” Your armor is in tatters, shattered into smoldering shards; the words choke up your throat. “You never change—”

“I know. I know. It's my fault.” His voice— usually even and soothing in its unfazed cadence— now wavers with the slightest tremor. “I broke my promise. Hit me, curse me, I’ll take it. I can take it all.” 

His flushed skin is satin underneath your palm. The heat of him seeps in, thick, suffocating, like trees blazing on all sides, smoke scalding your every inhale. You can’t think, can’t breathe— 

“I’ll take everything,” he murmurs, “any punishment—”

Surging forward, you crash into him, mouths meeting like steel locked against steel. The kiss lands like a brutal blow, fierce and unforgiving— the ensuing thud rattling in your head. All teeth and fury, you kiss him like it hurts you to do it, pressing every ounce of rage into his body like a blade held to his throat. But it doesn’t deter him— if anything, he welcomes it, inhaling deep like you’re his collapsing star and he’s your gravity, dragging you close until you’re chest to chest, as if wanting to crush your hearts together through skin and bone.   

You bite down hard on his lip; iron blooms on your tongue. He only groans, mouth parting wider beneath yours, his chest rising under your hands. Tongues sliding with bruising intent, you devour his breathless penance the way a storm devours light, scraping teeth and spite-laced breath. When he exhales your name— all reverence, aching devotion you can’t stand to feel— you tear away from him like a snapped wire, a thread of spit stretching between your lips before it breaks. Xavier follows, torso swaying forward, like his body can’t help but chase yours— sky blue eyes darkened to a starless midnight, the weight of his need hard against your thigh. 

“Any punishment?”

You hate your voice. How hurt it sounds, how raw. 

“Any,” he whispers, fingers hot against the edges of your jaw, as if angling for another kiss— 

“No.”

Your hand forces him away, pushing him down until his head knocks with a thud against the headboard. 

“You don’t move.” You shove his hands off your hips. “You don’t touch.” 

Your nails dig into his chest in warning. 

“Or I leave. Got it?” 

Xavier stares back up at you, breath a touch too fast, blue burning at the rim of his pupils— the corona of an eclipse. 

He nods. 

Your hands are claws before they’re curling into the soft knit of his sleep cardigan, dragging him up to your mouth. The kiss is sharper this time, angled like retribution, catching the split skin on his lip. You don’t stop, even when he bleeds— he tastes like fever and metal, salt and heat, blood and regret. Your hips grind into his, and he gasps into your mouth, his touch ghosting up your waist. You swat his hand away with a resounding slap, wrenching yourself away with a hiss. 

“I said, don’t touch.”

Fingers splayed across his flushed skin, your nails drag down heated flesh, carving furious pink welts in their wake. Your hand finds the nape of his neck, threading through his hair, curling tight with a subtle yank. He surrenders with a grunt, tilting his head back to bare his throat. Your gaze locks in on the vulnerable line of his neck as he swallows hard, chest rising in quick, shallow bursts. 

You want him to hurt.

Your teeth sink deep at the juncture between his neck and collarbone, burying resentment in purples and blues. Xavier jerks, arching into you as a strangled sound spills from his lips. You drag your mouth over the blossoming bruise— sucking hard— until he’s shuddering into your grasp, muscles taut as his hands fists the sheets. 

A searing constellation of bites follows the meandering path of your mouth, each mark crimson against his fevered skin. You take your time, slow and deliberate— feasting in every grunt and choked sound he makes in the back of his throat. Your tongue curls to tease at the jut of his collarbone, tasing the salt of his sweat. Hands roam lower, running across the planes of his chest. Hard muscle honed by hours of swordplay and battles with Wanderers, forged more like a weapon than man. Like he’s more steel than flesh and bone. 

But under your touch, he’s steel gone pliant, molten metal just barely holding form, bending to the shape of your fury like glass held to flame. Your rage simmers, tempered now to something slower, smoldering— your tongue tracing soft, lingering licks over angry bruises, pressing a kiss to his nipple, tongue circling the dusky pink nub— 

A splintering crack— like a tree splitting under the weight of an axe. Your gaze jerks up. 

His fingers are still splayed where they’ve gouged into the headboard, knuckles white. A jagged split runs through the wood, groaning under the pressure of his grip— yet he hasn’t moved, hasn’t even bothered to look. 

Eyes blown dark, his gaze is fixed on you, black and bottomless as the space between the stars. Bite swollen lips, ears and cheeks flushed crimson, Xavier looks like he could devour you whole.  

“Please,” he husks, tongue swiping his bruised bottom lip. “Let me… let me touch—”

“No.”

You shove him back again— first with a hand to his chest, and then with a pointed foot, holding him in place as you shift down the bed. He makes a low, feral sound of frustration— more vibration than voice. 

“Liars don’t get to touch.” 

Something in his gaze falters, a shallow breath too sharp, chest stalling like he forgot how to breathe. His eyes flick away, and for a moment, the cold you were reaching for touches you at last. 

You should feel vindicated. 

You want to, so badly. 

But all you feel is the sting behind your eyes, the growing ache in your chest. You’re so damn tired— tired of this ache that keeps dragging you back to him, tired of hurting for someone who keeps hurting you.

You’re desperate to feel anything else. 

Tossing your shirt over your head in one swift movement, a graceless shimmy out of your shorts follows until you’re left in nothing but your underwear, knees spread wide. His gaze is back on you, drinking in every shift of your body, clinging to you like a wolf tailing the scent of blood. It isn’t until your fingers trail down your stomach, flirting with the waistband of the underwear that he freezes— the realization hitting him like a blow, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. 

You’re wet. 

You know this because you have been the moment you kissed him, because your fingers sinking in your folds make an obscenely loud sound of slick on skin. He makes a choked sound, low and ragged, as if the sound is being torn from him, as if he’s unraveling at the seams. 

Xavier looks ruined. 

“Please.“ His voice is hoarse. ”I need you.”

Your fingers slide in and out of your soaked cunt. 

“Liar.”

You’re so worked up, you’re already close. Every stroke of your fingers against your swollen clit sparks stars behind your eyes. Your lashes flutter, your body shuddering— solar flares licking up your spine, stardust melting in your veins. Soft, stuttering moans tumbling from your lips when—  

Everything blurs.

You’re hauled up and over with dizzying speed, your back slamming hard against the mattress, air punched from your lungs. Before the shock can settle, your legs are hoisted, stretched taut— ankles sliding over his shoulders, thighs pressed flush to your chest. 

He is on top of you, weight pressing you deep into the mattress, a wall of heat and muscle pinning you in place. You’re folded back, your body bent beneath his, spine arched, breath coming in shallow gasps. He’s everywhere— his scent, his touch, his searing warmth and you can’t twist away, can’t think, can’t hide. Not from the bruising possessiveness of his grip or the all-consuming hunger of his gaze. 

“Xav—!”

His name dies on your tongue when he rocks forward, the imprint of his cock sliding against your soaked underwear, a hot jolt of desperate need straight to your cunt. Your whole body draws taunt, a frustrated whimper catching in your throat when you can’t move. 

“Isn’t it my turn yet?”

His whisper curls in your ear as he shifts, his body crowding closer, collapsing the remaining space between you. Like the weight of a dying star, like the inevitable pull of moons into orbit, he pulls you closer—

“You need to be punished too.”

[tsubasa18]

Prompt; The LADS accidentally walk in on you changing.

Caleb - The quick knock at your bedroom door hardly allows you time to respond before the handle turns. “Hey pipsqueak, I know you care about matching, but are you almost d--” He gets exactly one step past the doorway, one quick glance, and he’s frozen in place.

You’re quick to cover yourself and instinctively whip the nearest item, a pillow, at him. “Caleb! Get out!” The pillow hits his leg and snaps him out of his daze, and he hastily removes himself from your space. He can’t even bring himself to apologize.

His back presses to the outside of your door and his knees give out. His breathing is shaky. A hand runs down his warm face and stops at his chest, clutching the area above his racing heart. “Dummy! Jerk!” He hears you cussing him out from within your room, but he doesn’t care, not after witnessing such a beautiful image that’s bound to play in his head over and over again.

Rafayel - In his defence, he wasn’t expecting you to be changing midday, let alone in his own house. “Cutie, do you-- uh…” And just like that he’s rooted to the spot. Are you… glowing? Is that something humans can do, or are you simply so stunning even the sunlight is on your side?

“Cute…” He mumbled under his breath. His eyes trail all over you until landing on your beautiful face. The tense set of your jaw and pretty tint of red filling your cheeks is enough to snap him back to reality. “Ah! Uh… s-sorry, sorry!” He awkwardly fumbles out of his own room while keeping his gaze down, ears bright red.

Once you’re dressed he doesn’t hold up much better considering you’re flaunting around in one of his painting shirts, radiating like an absolute vision.

Zayne - He’s gotten too comfortable with you. In no other universe with anyone else would he dare to welcome himself into a room when the door is closed shut. “I apologize for returning late,” His sentence is cut short at the sight of you. Vulnerable, soft, delectable.

However, just as quickly as he entered, he exits equally as fast. Not a word is uttered, a sneaky glance isn’t taken, he’s just gone. As soon as you’re decent you poke you open the door and poke head. He didn’t go far. His back is pressed against the wall across from you and his looking down. Dark green eyes shoot up, scan your face, and dart off to the side. He clears his throat, “I… Sorry. I should have knocked.”

Your head tilts to the side. “…Zayne, are your ears red?” He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t need to.

Sylus - It was your own fault. Sylus wouldn’t slip up like that, because beneath the surface he’s surprisingly strict about respecting your privacy and boundaries. Mephisto is for your safety, not for being a creep. So, when he accidentally stumbles upon you in a state of undress, in his own bedroom, he’s unsure how to react. Is this a seductive teasing attempt on your end? Or perhaps you’re simply comfortable around him?

His eyes widen a fraction. You’re so ethereal. Though he cocks his head at the freeze response you’re giving. “Sorry.” He places a hand over his eyes while leaving. A few minutes pass when you hear a knock at the door followed by a tender, “Can I come in now?” When you tell him ‘yes’, he exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You’re still willing to accept him into your space and that’s more than enough for him.

Xavier - He just wanted to sleep with you, and no, not in that way. He’s tired, he had a long day, and you promised to rest with him. Snuggle, hold each other close, watch something on your laptop while your eyes grow heavy… yet you’re taking so long in your bedroom. He’s aware he should have been more considerate, even in his groggy state, but he doesn’t think twice when calling your name while pushing your door open. It was already ajar, so he wasn’t expecting you to be changing.

He lets out a breath at the sight of you. “You’re… luminous.” His pale features gradually redden. He shakes his head and steps back, clicking the door shut. You hear his muffled voice from the other side, “I’m sorry. The door was cracked open, so I thought you were making your bed.” Despite the heat raising to your own cheeks you sheepishly tell him, “You’re… It’s okay. I should’ve made sure it was shut.” Silence, then a quiet, “…You’re beautiful.” You chuckle, “Thank you, Xavier.” He goes on, “So beautiful.”

[tsubasa18]

07/02/25; 10:45am

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you get on your knees for them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

you decided to spend some time with sylus in his office, listening to his hundreds of business calls while taking note of his mounting frustrations.

every few minutes, you would look away from your novel to see the onychinus leader spitting out orders into the phone. admittedly, you hated seeing your beloved so stressed and would do anything to relieve him-

which was why you promptly put your book aside, standing back to your full height as you took casual steps toward sylus. he lifts a brow at you, but turns around in his seat accordingly.

he had assumed that you would sit on his lap and keep him company during these trying times-

only to be mildly surprised when you end up spreading his legs wide open before settling yourself between them. your eyes would meet his gaze, giving him a brief wink before proceeding to unzip the front of his dress pants. his breathing hitches, no longer focused on the phone call when you manage to pull down his boxers and extract his half-hardened cock.

with your attention solely focused on his cock, you slowly stroked him back to full hardness, basking in his low hiss of your name, his hand already gripping at the phone with an almost bruising strength. resting the palm of your hand atop his thighs, you brace yourself on them before descending down on his cock.

the moment your hot mouth wraps around his erection was when it all came crashing down on sylus. he grits his teeth, trying to keep his voice even when he practically growls into the phone. “fine, have the shipment to me by next week. this is your only chance at redemption.”

not even waiting for the other party’s reply, sylus hangs up the phone, hands already lovingly stroking at your hair, “ngh… you sure know how to turn my bad mood around, kitten.”

mischief was seen in your gaze when you let go of his cock with an audible pop!, playfully tracing at his pulsating veins all while licking at your lips, “i saw that you were stressed and unhappy and wanted to change that for you…”

his gaze darkens considerably at your admission, “then by all means give me a happy ending, kitten.”

and when sylus manages to thrust his cock back inside of your hot and wet mouth, that was exactly what you did.

zayne had skipped eating lunch once more, which prompted to you enter his office with a plate of food in hand.

he hears your incoming footsteps and looks away from his paperwork briefly. a tired smile graces his features when he says your name in a voice laced with adoration. you return his smile, setting his lunch on his desk before settling yourself on his lap.

“it’s not fair how you have to bring your work home with you on a near daily basis, zaynie.”

his smile became minuscule just then, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tighter manner. “i know, but i suppose it just comes with the job, my love.”

you face him, hands framing at his face as you took notice of the dark circles beneath his eyes. gently caressing at them, you sigh before telling him, “you’ve been stressed lately.”

“that’s true, but it’s by no fault of your own-“

“why don’t i help you destress, even if it’s just for a few minutes?”

zayne’s expression was painted with deep confusion, “what do you mean?”

you were giggling now, trailing your nails down the front of his chest before spreading his knees. after settling yourself between them, you gently began to pull off his pants, managing to take out his limp cock in the process.

zayne hissed in response to the sensation of your mouth suddenly surrounding his length, wetting his cock so thoroughly that he couldn’t help but become hard in response. he was aching for you, practically twitching and pulsating within your sweet lips as he sought out his high.

your eagerness to take away his stress and replace it with pleasure became all too evident the moment you moved your head back and forth over his manhood, pumping whatever part of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hands. and after a particularly hard suck-

zayne loses all of his self control, spilling himself down your throat as you swallowed every last drop. satisfied with your work, you give his cock one last, lingering kiss before helping him readjust himself, placing his softening cock back within the confines of his boxers and pants before returning to your seat on his lap.

he encircles his arms around you, hiding his face within the curve of your neck while pressing butterfly kisses against your skin. “i didn’t know how much i needed that.”

you softly smile at him, simply cuddling yourself closer to him when he suddenly whispers into your ear, “perhaps i should return the favor?”

your eyes widen when you felt zayne bite down on the lobe of your ear, whispering sweet nothings into your ear before sliding the palm of his hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties, gently tracing at your center before dipping a finger within your heat.

and when he manages to pinch at your bundle of nerves, you knew that you were a goner as you braced yourself on his biceps.

after a particularly grueling mission, xavier came home to you battered and bruised, and in much need of a shower. he greets you with tired eyes before excusing himself to the bathroom, leaving you alone with your intrusive thoughts in your shared bedroom.

setting down your phone the moment you heard the shower turn on, you slowly began taking off your clothes, taking slow and deliberate strides toward the restroom. a playful grin spreads across your features when you saw that the door remained ajar, filling you with confidence as you took quick strides toward the glass shower stall.

you saw his silhouette against the frosted glass, already aching for him when you swiftly entered the shower with him. caught off guard by your sudden appearance, he lets out a grunt of your name-

only for his eyes to go wide when you suddenly kneel down before him, hands already gripping at his soft cock as you slowly stroked at his length. within mere seconds, he was already hard for you, his cock hot and ready for you when you surged forward. your lips were wrapped around him, bobbing your head back and forth with your tongue tracing at the pulsating veins that surrounded his shaft.

bracing his hand against the shower wall, xavier’s gaze was hooded and narrowed, taking in the sight of you taking him in so deliciously well as you moved up and down his shaft with a fervor that takes his very breath away-

unable to focus on washing himself when you made him feel like he was so close to tasting heaven.

rafayel was being a bit of a brat, pouting and refusing to let you go even when you had some chores and errands to finish.

with a sigh of his name, you look back at your boyfriend, seeing him still clinging to you like a lifeline as he buried his face within the curve of your neck. giving his soft hair some gentle pats, you carefully walk to the living room before shoving him into one of the sofas.

he lands against the plush cushions with a playful smirk, “just what are you planning, cutie?”

brushing back your hair, you place a hand on his inner thigh before kneeling in front of him. “if i give you what you need, will you let me finish my work.”

an almost angelic smile graces his features, “hmm, that depends… what do you mean by ‘giving me what i need’?”

instead of answering him with words, you let your actions do all of the explaining. drawing circles on his inner thighs, you play with the faint outline of his cock seen, immediately teasing it to full hardness when a considerable tent was seen in front of his pants.

“princess-“ yet the rest of his words were lost the moment when he began to swallow thickly, watching as you pulled out his cock from the confines of his pants. you play with the tip of his pretty cock, watching as the beads of precum escaped from it before leaning closer to lick it away.

he grunts, arms already encircled around your head as he demanded, “q-quit teasing me… just put it in already…!”

“as you wish.” pressing a kiss against his cockhead, you open your mouth wide open for him, feeling his velvet hardness on the tip of your tongue before getting to work. you began sucking and tracing at the entire length of his cock, basking in his grunts and desperate whimpers of your name as you worshipped him with fervor.

just minutes later, you felt the lemurian spill himself down your throat, allowing you to eagerly swallow all that he had to offer before standing back to your full height. wiping the stray droplets of cum from your lips, you were satisfied upon seeing his fucked out expression, giving his lips a chaste kiss before attempting to walk away-

only to be stopped by a powerful hand wrapped around your wrist. he bites down on the lobe of your ear before pressing you against the nearby wall. with his hands eagerly exploring down the length of your body, he casually dips it down the front of your sweatpants all while whispering within your ear, “don’t think i’m letting you get away from me so easily, princess.”

you truly wanted to worship your lover in ways that were only kept in secret-

intimate moments shared between you and caleb in the privacy of your bedroom-

but it seemed that the colonel had other plans for you, plans that involved pleasuring you just as much as you were pleasuring him.

he would not relent, wouldn’t even let you get on your knees for him when he lays down in your shared bed. “get on top of me. show me that pretty pussy of yours while you shove my cock down your throat.”

your knees end up clashing together, feeling your entrance clench with need for him. needing no further urging, you get on the bed-

only to have the colonel wrap his large hands around your waist, already bringing your aching cunt down on his lips as you cried out to him. you brace yourself above his thighs, feeling your back arch when caleb’s tongue works his way deeper into your heat.

distracted by his ministrations, you managed to break yourself out of your pleasured haze, leaning over him until his erection was in front of you. refusing to climax, you descended yourself on his cock, taking him inch by torturous inch before curling your tongue around his shaft.

his groans vibrate pleasantly through your body, making you moan as you worked on stroking his cock. you needed to feel the telltale twitching of his dick and how it signaled to how close he was to completion-

yet the moment you tried to bring him further down your throat (nearly gagging in response)-

caleb manages to pull out of you, taking advantage of his strength to flip you over so that you were the one laid back in bed. his eyes were burning with love and lust for you, taking a hold of you leg before tossing it over his shoulder. he traces at your entrance for a few seconds, allowing your arousal to stain at it before completely sheathing himself deep inside of you.

your reaction was immediate, back already arching against the ruined bedsheets as he sets a brutal pace that has you seeing stars. your colonel continues to fuck himself into you, eyes drinking in the sight of you writhing and utterly ruined from beneath him while letting out a chuckle.

“now this sight is something i can definitely see myself getting used to.”

end notes: yay another post as i announce another semi-hiatus before enjoying another vacation with my family 🥰 this is unedited, but i’ll make any changes once this is posted ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[tsubasa18]

A new official commissioned art dropped!

Captioned:

沈星回 ⭐#沈星回#

王的棋局 「trans: Shen Xinghui ⭐#Shen Xinghui# The King's Chess Game」

IS THIS A HINT FOR HIS MYTH??? R WE GETTING KING XAVIER PERHAPS?

[tsubasa18]

Okay hear me out, daughter of the underground kings and Xavier is your bodyguard. Out for a night event and you get kidnapped. Xavier tracks you down and overturning the whole underworld just to get you back safely

[tsubasa18]

it's sooo hot

synopsis: you move away from them in your sleep because you feel hot

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Zayne

He had his arm wrapped around you with his other arm under your head, legs tangled under the sheet. You woke up feeling like a burrito who’s just been in a microwave. The way Zayne was wrapped around you was comfortable, and if it had been an ordinary night, you would’ve loved it.

But it’s not an ordinary night. It was summer, and it had just been such a hot day that even with the AC on, you were sweating, and with Zayne hugging you and the fluffy blanket thrown on the both of you, it just felt too much.

Still groggy from sleep, you slowly move his arms away and remove the blanket. You feel like every movement is causing you to sweat more. Zayne wakes up from his sleep just to see you wiggling like a slug away from him. He grabs your arm.

“Where are you going?”

You shake his arm off, “’s too hot, love.”

He sighs. Standing up, he heads to the AC and turns it up higher, heads back to bed, and places the blanket on the edge of the bed.

He lays back down on the bed, “Better?”

You return back to him, using his arm as a pillow.

“Mhm,” you hum, already falling back to sleep. He places his hand on your stomach, giving you space while watching your chest rise and fall, lulling him to sleep once more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Caleb

He wakes up from the feeling of being pushed. He opens his eyes and sees you; eyes closed, brows furrowed, and lips tugging downward. He pulls you in closer,

“Hey, pipsqueak? Nightmare?”

You tsked, “Get off, too hot,” still pushing him away.

He stands up to open the window. A cool breeze flows in, and you heave a sigh of relief. Rubbing his eyes, he checks the clock.

3:02 AM

Heading to the kitchen, he grabs a glass of cold water, making sure not to bump into anything as sleep is quickly catching up to him. He nudges you awake,

“Pipsqueak, drink some water.”

He slowly guides you to sit up and brings the glass to your lips. You grab the glass to drink.

After drinking, you push the glass to his lips, indicating him to drink too. He does. He lays down on the bed, faces you, and grabs your hand, going back to sleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sylus

You wake up due to extreme heat. Your head is on Sylus’ chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. You groan, trying to get away from him. The weather was already hot, and being next to him feels like sleeping beside a furnace.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetie?”

You turn to see Sylus looking at you. You finally remove his arm from you. You tell him that it’s hot. He raises his brow and rakes a stare down your body—you’re wearing a tank top with shorts and you still feel hot?

He goes to the AC, turns it up to the highest (lowest?) level, and goes back to bed.

He sighs, “Better?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond and just grabs your hand, wrapping his arms around you, more securely this time.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Rafayel

He’s staying over at your place for the night because you invited him to dinner. You were already fast asleep, but he kept pacing back and forth. It was just so hot in your room. His place was by the sea, so it was never hot.

‘It’s just one night, you’re gonna be fine,’ he thought as he slips beside you on the bed.

The moment he touched your skin, you were already pulling away, discarding your blanket.

“What the—heyyy, why are you pulling away? I thought you wanted to sleep with me?”

He grabs your blanket and wraps it around you. You start to wake up.

“Rafayel, get this blanket off me. It’s so hot, I can’t breathe.”

You manage to break away from the blanket and lay on your stomach. He grabs the blanket and starts lightly smacking you with it.

“If you knew it was gonna be this hot, why did we even eat here? We could’ve eaten at my place. If you wanted to cook, you could’ve there.”

He guides you to stand up and drags you outside your apartment to his car and heads to his place.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Xavier

You had stayed at Xavier’s apartment for the night ’cause you got caught up with reading his new books. When you finally closed the book, the sky was already pitch black. You walk to his room and see him reading on his bed. Yawning, you lay down beside him and lay your head on his upper thigh, wrapping your hands around his waist and drifting off.

Xavier smiles as he strokes your head, humming to help you fall asleep. After a few moments, you roll over to your side of the bed, leaving him cold and wondering why you pulled away.

He closes his book and places it on the nightstand.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

He removes your hair from your face and places a kiss on your cheek.

You smile, “Too hot, Xavi.”

He softly laughs, caressing your cheek before standing up to close the window and turning on the AC.

He kisses your forehead, “Is this better?”

You hum, wrapping your hands around his neck, pulling him to bed with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[tsubasa18]

[scenario/drabble] Not Like That

Summary: LIs react when you hum a breakup song around them, getting worried when they pick up on the lyrics about an unhappy relationship. You comfort them when you realise they misunderstood and got spooked. It all ends well <3 (based on a submitted prompt)

Genre: Fluff (mild hurt/comfort bc the men got terrified)

SYLUS

You hum the chorus while folding laundry, oblivious- until Sylus’s hand stops yours. “Interesting choice of lyrics.” His tone is light, but his crimson eyes are sharp. “Care to explain why you’re singing about replacing me?”

Your stomach drops. Oh, shit- the lyrics. “Wait- I just like the melody-”

He takes a step closer. “Because I hear you singing about... needing someone ‘inside’,”

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “And if that's your wish, I’ll ruin you until you forget your own name.”

His words send a flurry of flashbacks to the night before- him carrying you from the living room to the bed, with you already kissed breathless at that point. And what happened after you got to the bed still brings a fresh wave of heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

“You’re thinking loudly again, kitten.”

“Yeah, of you.” You tiptoe, draping your arms on his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Only you,” you murmur, kissing him softly when he leans down, “You’re all I ever want and need, Sylus. I mean it.”

He nips your lip. “Mm. Why don't you say that again?”

You slap his chest lightly, “Don’t push your luck,”

His hands find your hips as he holds you against the dresser, closing the space between you. “Hm. But you owe me a proper apology, sweetie.”

Sylus never pouts, but this is the closest expression he’s ever made. And you see it- just barely hidden by his calm facade- is an earnest longing for reassurance. As if you'd ever, ever need anybody else when he is standing right in front of you. It tugs at your heartstrings.

You brush your thumb along his ear. “I’m sorry for scaring you, baby. I’ll make it up to you,”

His chest rumbles with a satisfied hum as he brings you closer to him.

_____

ZAYNE

Zayne pauses mid-sip of tea as you sing "He gives what he can~" under your breath, pouring yourself a second cup. His hazel-green eyes narrow. “Are you… unhappy?” The question is calm, but his knuckles tighten around his mug.

You open your mouth to explain, but he cuts you off. “I’d rather you tell me than sing it to a playlist.”

His bluntness speaks volumes- while he could be curt and straightforward, it’s rare for him to speak like this on lazy weekend mornings. You feel your heart sink when you see him watching you with unmasked concern. You hurriedly set the teapot down on the coffee table, turning to him.

You place your hands around his, guiding him to put his mug down. “Oh, Zaynie- I’m- it’s not that,”

He blinks, then exhales, gazing at his hands enclosed by yours. Only then, do you move closer to cup his face. “It’s just a random song. I promise. You make me happier than anything.”

He nods, pulling you into his chest. “... Please choose one that doesn’t make my pulse spike.”

You think of the cutest, cheesiest love ballad from animated movies- then you start singing, serenading him. You barely get to the pre-chorus when you see him struggle to fight off a growing smile, and you poke his cheeks, continuing to sing.

“Thank you,” He whispers when you stop, his smile gentle.

You tackle him in a hug, “Don’t thank me, you silly, beautiful man I love you so, so much”

_____

XAVIER

The last of the night’s dishes are cleared away from the table and stacked near the sink. Xavier’s blue eyes widen as you sing "Softer, harder, in between" while rinsing soap off some dishes he hands you.

“You- want that?” His voice cracks.

“Huh?” You freeze when realization hits- you’ve been singing for a while now, and the lyrics are hardly anything suitable for a cosy night in. It’s about intimacy, sure- but also about heartbreak, cheating, and things that you won’t ever relate to. “No! It’s just catchy!”

He steps closer, rinsing his hands under the tap and using the front of his shirt to dry them hastily. Fingers trembling as they brush your waist. “If there’s anything I’m doing wrong, or something I’m not doing… whatever you need. Just let me know.”

Pain squeezes your heart. “Xavier, you’re my everything. There’s nothing wrong with us, it’s just a song.”

With a shaky sigh, he buries his face in your neck. “My starlight, please don’t scare me like that. I don't think I can bear the thought of... whatever you were singing about,"

You wrap your arms around him, reaching up to stroke his hair. “Xavi- I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I really am,”

You feel him press a kiss to the side of your neck. “It's ‘kay,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

"I should've given you context-" you continue, but he shakes his head as he pulls away to look at you, his blue eyes as calm as ever.

His hands on your waist are steady now- firm, even. “There is only one context that matters. Which one are you requesting for tonight? Softer… or harder?”

_____

RAFAYEL

Rafayel drops his paintbrush when you murmur the lyrics "He is stable, you are deep."

“Excuse me? I’m the boring one?!” His eyes flash as whirls around, bristling with indignance.

You try to backtrack, but he’s already draping himself over you. “I’ll drown you in ‘deep,’” he huffs, covering your face in kisses as he nuzzles against you like a disgruntled cat marking his owner. As much as he hates cats, he does act like one in times like these.

“Raf, I'm sorry! It really mmmph–” he smothers you with another kiss, “it's just a song- I'm not-”

You get cut off by a flurry of kisses pressed to your cheeks, the corner of your lips, then your mouth.

You cup his face and squeeze his cheeks likely. “My love, I'm trying to apologize to you!”

He frowns, “And stable is not in my vocabulary. Glub glub,”

(He kisses you senseless, and only then does a satisfied smile return to grace his features.)

_____

CALEB

Caleb’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as you absentmindedly sing a tune that's been on your playlist for the past week.

When you get to the lyrics "Oh yeah, baby, touch me”, he stops you, voice quietly cutting through the cabin. “…Who.”

It’s not a question. You panic when understanding dawns on you. “Wait- it's not- It’s just a song, Caleb!”

He lets out a sharp exhale, keeping his eyes straight ahead and drives until you exit the highway.

He pulls over.

“Then why does it sound like a confession of sorts? Are we having a falling-out?” He grits out.

You gently place your hand over his white-knuckles, brushing your fingers over his. “This song's just been on my playlist… it means nothing to me. I promise, Caleb.”

He sighs, flexing his fingers to release his grip on the steering wheel. He catches your wrist softly, then presses a kiss onto your palm. “Just… tell me if there's something wrong, yeah? You can take it out on me, but just- just don't sing breakup songs like that,”

The desperate tinge in his voice makes your heart sink, and you pull him close to peck his cheek, then his lips. His shoulders loosen, yet his violet eyes glimmer with depths of unspoken fears.

“Okay,” you nod, then tap the tip of his nose lightly. “Mr Colonel, I'm guilty of making you worried, so- you can deal with me as you see fit when we get home,”

He breathes a shaky laugh, raking his fingers through his hair. “God damn, pips. You're really trying to give me cardiac arrest today,”

Note: This came from a submitted prompt <3 It was a little tricky to write bc i couldnt fully imagine how they'd react in that situation ngl?? Lmk what yall think :') also I have a few WIPS but atm my brain is playing kpdh songs all day and its a bit hard to think and write i keep wanting to write lads men as the saja boys ANYWAYS THANKS YALL FOR READING <33 Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated <3

✨️

[tsubasa18]

Late Isn’t Just Late—Not When It’s You

♡ ft. Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus x reader ♡ cw: emotional panic, protective husband-core, soft fear turned desperate kisses, subtle possessiveness, implied spicy aftermath ♡ a/n: you didn’t think it was a big deal. your phone died, you stayed out a little too long, lost track of time. But for them? it was hours of empty rooms, worst-case scenarios on repeat, and the sick, cold feeling of what if you never came back? PC: @KikiZhouU on X

Caleb

It’s well past midnight when you finally push the door open.

You’re not trying to be quiet—just tired. The kind of heavy, achy tired that sinks into your bones after a long day out. You didn’t mean to be gone so long. Didn’t think to text after your phone died. Didn’t realize how dark it had gotten.

Until you walk in and see him.

Caleb’s on the couch—still in his jeans and t-shirt from hours ago. Shoes half-kicked off. Hair a mess from running his hands through it. One foot taps the floor in this tense, uneven rhythm that only stops when the door clicks shut behind you.

His head snaps up.

“Where the hell were you?” he blurts.

You blink. “I—babe, I was just at Tara’s. My phone died—”

He exhales like he’s been punched. Closes his eyes. For a second it looks like he might actually get angry—like he’s gearing up for a frustrated rant.

But when he stands, it’s not anger in his face.

It’s relief. Blazing, gut-deep, almost painful relief.

He crosses the room in two strides, grabs your shoulders, and pulls you into him so hard you almost stumble. One hand cradles the back of your head, the other grips your waist like he’s terrified you’ll vanish again.

“You didn’t text. You always text,” he breathes into your hair. “I didn’t know if—what if something happened? What if someone—”

“Caleb—” you start, but he’s already shaking his head.

“You can’t do that to me, sweetheart. Not you. I can’t—I was picturing every damn thing that could’ve gone wrong. And then I kept trying to tell myself I was overreacting, but—”

He pulls back just enough to see your face. His eyes are rimmed red, tired in a way that makes your heart twist.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah, well…” His voice cracks on a laugh that’s way too close to a sob. “You did.”

And then he’s kissing you.

Hard. Messy. Hands on your face, tilting you just so he can deepen it, mouth moving against yours like he needs to memorize every taste. Like he’s trying to remind himself this is real—you’re real, warm and alive and back in his arms.

When he finally pulls away, breath ragged, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You come home late again,” he murmurs, voice low, rough, “I’m not letting you out of this house for a week. I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to.”

You smile, lips ghosting over his. “That a promise or a threat?”

His answering grin is shaky, but it’s there. His hands slip lower, grip tightening.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, eyes dark, “with you? It’s always both.”

Xavier

You expect darkness when you step inside.

It’s late. The streets were empty on your drive back. You were already rehearsing your apology for not calling—battery dead, didn’t think it’d get so late, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—when the door shuts behind you and you see it.

The lights are still on.

Soft golden glow spilling from the kitchen, faint shadows dancing in the hallway.

And then there’s him.

Xavier’s standing by the kitchen counter. Perfectly still. One hand resting over his mouth, the other braced against the countertop like he’s been leaning there for a long time.

His eyes snap to you the second you enter.

Not annoyed. Not relieved. Just… intense.

He doesn’t move right away. Just stares at you—like he’s making sure you’re actually real, not some trick of the light.

“Xavier,” you start softly. “I’m—”

Before you can finish, he pushes off the counter and closes the space between you in three long strides.

His hands come up, cup your face so carefully it makes your chest ache. His thumbs sweep over your cheeks, under your eyes, as if he’s checking for damage. As if you might vanish if he doesn’t hold you just right.

“You’re late,” he says, voice low. Controlled. But there’s something off in it—something rougher than usual.

“I know. My phone died, and then Tara wanted to—”

“I thought something happened.”

Your heart stutters.

His hands drop from your face only to slip around your waist, pulling you in until your chest is pressed to his. You feel his breath stutter against your temple.

“You’ve been gone for hours. I ran a hundred scenarios,” he admits quietly. “None of them ended well.”

You rest your hands over his chest. Feel the steady pound of his heart, faster than usual.

“Xavier… I’m okay. I promise.”

He nods—once. Short. Like he’s accepting it because he needs to, not because he’s fully convinced.

Then his head dips. His lips brush yours—light, almost cautious. Until your hands slide up into his hair and you kiss him back.

That’s when he breaks.

His arms tighten. The kiss goes from soft to starved in a heartbeat—his mouth moving over yours with a hunger he rarely shows, breath catching on tiny, almost desperate sounds that he swallows down.

When he finally pulls back, there’s the faintest tremor in his hands where they rest on your hips.

“You’ll tell me next time,” he says—not quite a question, not quite a demand.

You smile, breathless. “Of course.”

His eyes flick over your face, lingering on your lips.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then softer—closer to a confession than anything he’s ever said before:

“Because I’m not sure I’d survive it twice.”

Rafayel

You don’t even make it past the front door.

You’re halfway through dropping your keys in the bowl when Rafayel comes barreling out of the hallway—barefoot, hair mussed, paint still drying on the cuff of his sleeve.

He stops dead when he sees you. Stares. And for a terrifying half-second you think he’s angry.

But then his mouth parts on a shaky exhale, and you realize he’s not angry at all.

He’s terrified.

“Where were you?” he breathes. It’s not sharp. It’s hoarse, like it’s been clawing up his throat for hours.

“My phone died,” you start, heart sinking. “I was just at Tara’s—”

“Just at Tara’s,” he repeats, voice rising, hands flying to rake through his hair. “Do you have any idea what my mind does when you’re late? When I call and call and it goes to voicemail? I pictured your car crushed on the highway, I pictured—god, I pictured—”

He cuts himself off, eyes wet, jaw flexing.

“Raf—”

“No, don’t ‘Raf’ me,” he snaps, but it’s weak. His hands drop to his sides, clenching and unclenching like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I had paintings to finish. Commissions, deadlines—I couldn’t even pick up the brush. I was too busy seeing your face on a morgue slab in my head.”

Your throat goes tight.

You step toward him.

He steps back. Shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

“I’m being dramatic, I know—what else is new—but you don’t get it,” he says, voice breaking. “You don’t get what it’s like to need someone the way I need you. It’s visceral. It’s ugly. It’s—I can’t create if I think you’re gone.”

“Hey,” you whisper, reaching out.

He catches your wrist in both hands—almost too tight. Stares down at where your skin meets his.

And then the dam breaks.

He tugs you into him with a desperate sound, arms locking around your shoulders so hard you’re breathless. His nose buries in your hair, breath shuddering against your ear.

“You’re here,” he whispers. Over and over. “You’re here, you’re here, you’re here—”

Your hands slip under his shirt, feeling the frantic drum of his heartbeat.

“I’m here,” you promise.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are glassy, lashes damp. But there’s a crooked smile curling on his lips.

“Next time you decide to terrify me,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek, “at least let me paint you first. So I’ll have something to haunt me properly.”

You laugh. He kisses you—soft at first, then rougher, hungrier, hands sliding into your hair with a low groan.

And by the time he’s backing you against the nearest wall, muttering “never scare me like that again” against your mouth, you’re pretty sure the painting will have to wait.

Zayne

You don’t even get your shoes off.

The door swings shut behind you, you’re juggling your bag and keys, already rehearsing your apology—when you see him.

Zayne is standing at the end of the hall.

Still in his scrubs. Shoes on. A faint smear of sanitizer on his wrist like he’s been compulsively scrubbing his hands. His glasses are pushed up high on the bridge of his nose, but his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them.

You open your mouth. He cuts you off.

“Where were you?”

It’s not sharp. It’s worse—it’s flat. Completely stripped of inflection, like he’s trying to keep something dangerous from breaking loose.

“My phone died,” you start, heart sinking. “And Tara needed help with—”

“You were supposed to be home at six.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just watches you.

You try to fill the silence. “I know. I lost track of time, it was stupid, I’m sor—”

“You didn’t call.”

It hits you then—how tightly he’s holding himself. Arms folded. Shoulders locked. Like if he lets go, he might fly apart.

“Zayne, I’m okay,” you say softly.

And that’s when his composure cracks.

He takes one slow step forward, then another. By the time he reaches you, his hands are shaking.

He cups your face like he’s afraid you’ll flinch—thumb brushing your cheekbone, eyes searching yours so intensely it hurts. His breath hitches, chest stuttering against yours.

“You can’t do that,” he murmurs. Voice low. Rough. “You can’t just disappear and expect me to function.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you whisper.

He lets out this soft, unsteady sound—half a laugh, half a breathless sigh. His forehead tips to yours.

“You didn’t just scare me,” he says. “You hollowed me out. I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t think—every worst-case scenario was playing on a loop in my head.”

Your hands slip up to his shoulders. You feel the tremor there, the tight coil of muscle that hasn’t let go since you were late.

“I’m sorry.”

He swallows. Closes his eyes.

Then when he opens them again, there’s something new there—dark, possessive, desperate.

“Don’t ever do it again.”

Before you can answer, he’s kissing you—deep, hungry, nothing like his usual restrained affection. His hands slide into your hair, grip tightening until it almost hurts. His mouth moves over yours like he’s starving, like he needs to memorize you all over again to prove you’re real.

When he finally pulls back, breath ragged, his voice drops to a hoarse whisper.

“Next time you’re late,” he mutters, lips brushing your ear, “I’m putting a tracker under your skin.”

You laugh—shaky, breathless. “Romantic.”

His answering smile is faint. Crooked. But it’s there.

“You think I’m joking.”

And the way his hands roam your hips, tugging you closer, says he absolutely is not.

Sylus

The door barely shuts before you’re pinned.

Not by force—just by presence. Sylus is leaning against the entryway console, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes tracking your every move like a sniper scope.

“Late night?” he drawls. Voice smooth. Almost lazy. But there’s a razor edge beneath it.

You swallow, forcing a small smile. “Tara's party ran long. My phone died—”

“Convenient.”

You pause halfway out of your coat. “Excuse me?”

He pushes off the console, stalking toward you with that predatory grace that always sets your pulse racing. Except this time, there’s no teasing glint in his eyes. Just something sharp. Barely restrained.

“Sylus, I didn’t mean to worry you—”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he cuts in, stepping close enough that your back hits the wall. “You think I was worried? Please.”

But the way his jaw clenches, the way his hands curl at his sides like he’s stopping himself from grabbing you—says otherwise.

You tilt your head, breath shallow. “Then what’s this? Because you look ready to murder someone.”

He laughs—low, bitter. “Murder’s easy. It’s waiting for you to walk through that door that almost killed me.”

Your heart stutters.

He leans in, one hand braced on the wall beside your head. His breath fans across your cheek, and suddenly it’s hard to think.

“You can disappear for hours without a single damn word, and I’m left here imagining every possibility,” he murmurs, voice rougher now. “You want to scare me? Congratulations. You did.”

“Sylus—”

“Don’t do it again.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. His mouth crashes to yours—hard, hungry, almost punishing. One hand tangles in your hair, the other grips your waist so tight you whimper against his lips.

He pulls back just enough to rasp, “If something ever happened to you…I wouldn’t just burn down this town. I’d salt the ground so nothing could grow back.”

Your breath hitches. “That’s...dramatically romantic.”

A dark smirk tugs at his mouth. “That’s me. Always sentimental.”

Then his hand slips lower, squeezing your hip, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“Now get upstairs. I’ve been waiting all night to remind you exactly who you belong to.”

And by the time he’s done, you’re pretty sure you’ll never dare come home late again.

[tsubasa18]

my bank account is your bank account

synopsis: you didn't use his card to pay

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Zayne

He worked hard to be a cardiac surgeon just to treat your heart condition—what makes you think his money is where he draws the line? He’d just finished his second surgery today, a CABG that took 6 hours, and the first thing he sees on his phone is a text message from you.

“Hey, Zayne. Do you prefer spicy or not spicy soup? I’m at the store to buy the ingredients!”

He smiles, already imagining you waiting for him while cooking.

He replies, “Spicy is fine, I placed my card on the back of your phone. Be safe.”

Just as he placed the phone down, it beeps again from your text.

“It’s fine, I bought my card with me. And it’s just groceries, I can handle it.”

His brow furrows as he noisily types to call your phone, “I gave it to you with the intention that you’ll use it whenever you need. It doesn’t matter if it’s just groceri—”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll use it, alright? Since you insist, I’m buying these expensive lotions I’d been eyeing on.”

He sighs, “If you’re gonna buy those lotions, the least you can do is buy me those hard candy, that blueberry cheesecake we always buy, and those lollipo—”

“I’m getting you ONE pack of candies.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Caleb

This man would be crashing out if he can’t provide for you. He even gets upset when you don’t need his help in getting things from the top shelf. Here he was with a smug smile on his face while handing you his card,

“Use it whenever you need to, pips. Rest assured it won’t ever maxed out.”

That smirk was so irritating that you wanted to wipe it off his face.

“Mhm? Why do I need to? I get payed just fine! And it’s not like other people don’t pay for me.”

“Huh?”

God, that dumbfounded look was just so satisfying to see. Of course, with Caleb paying for whatever you need almost all his life, you weren’t gonna turn down his offer.

He flicks your forehead, “You don’t even need other people’s money. And they don’t treat you always! Just use mine and you can use it endlessly.”

He’s looking at you with his signature puppy eyes and you know you just lost.

Sighing, you take his card, “Fine, and I better not hear any complaints from you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sylus

You knew this man doesn’t care even if you spent billions of his money—he literally let you spend more than 10 million a few days after you met. It’s not like you had a problem with spending his money (you don’t); it’s just nice to tease him every now and then, even if it backfires on you most of the time.

You were in the middle of a date when you decided to mess with him.

“Sy, does it taste good?”

He hums, “It tastes quite nice. You always pick the right places, sweetie.”

You smile, “Of course! Since I’m paying, it should be worth it.”

He freezes mid-bite and places his spoon down, “Are you now? If I may say, the soup was quite salty, the pasta lacked flavor, and the tiramisu was just an abomination.”

You smack his arm, “Hey! You said it was nice!”

He smirks, “I’ll pay for it, sweetie, since it wasn’t worth it,” already reaching for his wallet.

Why do you even try?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Rafayel

“Baby, do you think this looks nice?” You gave your phone to Rafayel so he can see the sweater that you wanted. He shrugs, “It’s cute, perfect for rainy days.” You smile, proceeding to check out the sweater, “It’s 115 dollars, it’ll be delivered by next week!” He slowly turns his head, “Next week?" “Yeah!”

He slowly walks toward you and grabs you by the shoulders, “Cutie, did you already pay for it?”

You nod, “Yeah, why? Did you want one too?”

His shoulders slumped as he dramatically flings his arm around, “What?! Since when did you pay for your things? I’m transferring that money to your card.”

You lightly punch his shoulder, “Ayel! There’s no need, I have my own money.”

He raises his eyebrow, “And? I’m still wiring you that money.”

You try to argue, but he’s already tip-tapping away on his phone.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Xavier

“Xavi, what do you want for dinner?” You climbed on the couch and laid on his lap while fumbling on your phone. He shrugs, “Anything is fine.” You poke his cheek, “I’m too lazy to cook, do you want takeout?” He ponders for a moment, “Takeout is fine, I can cook too.” He says, already standing up to head to the kitchen when you quickly sit up, “Takeout it is!”

“How much is it?” He grabs your hand to play with the sleeves of your sweater. “It’s fine, I already payed for it!” His hand stops, and he slowly looks at you. His brows furrow and his lips form into a pout, without saying anything, he smooshes your face in his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Xavi?”

He smiles. “Don’t do that again."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.