My First Fic In Years. If There Is Any Error, Let Me Know.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Get out!

Pairings: Lads men x afab!reader part 1

Summary: Your 4 year old child, is fighting with their dad over you.

Tag: @teewritessmth @animegamerfox

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Zayne

Life with Dr. Zayne was always interesting, to say the least. As a renowned cardiac surgeon, your husband was the epitome of composure—calm under pressure, precise in everything he did, and a man of very few words. He wasn’t cold, not at all, but he had never been particularly good at expressing himself.

Neither was your four-year-old son, Elias.

Where other children were loud and expressive, Elias was quiet—watchful and reserved, much like his father. He rarely spoke in full sentences, preferring nods, small gestures, or simple actions to communicate his wants.

And right now?

Right now, you were caught in the middle of a silent battle between the two.

Zayne, sitting on the couch beside you, reached out and lightly held your wrist, his way of silently reminding you that you were his wife first.

Elias, seated on your other side, scooted closer, grabbing your other hand and clutching it tightly.

Neither said a word.

You blinked between them, feeling the tension thickening. “Okay,” you sighed, rubbing your temple. “What is happening?”

Elias glanced at Zayne. Zayne met his son’s stare with an impassive gaze, sharp blue eyes unreadable.

It was an unspoken showdown.

Elias would get his Mama time.

Zayne would not be overthrown.

You would lose your mind.

“Zayne,” you exhaled, “you’ve been with me all day. Let Elias have some time.”

Zayne blinked. “I was at the hospital for fourteen hours.”

You frowned. “Okay, but before that—”

“I was sleeping.”

Elias suddenly gave you a tiny tug. See? He was saying. It’s my turn.

You sighed. “Alright, how about—”

But before you could finish, Elias abruptly stood up. His little hands patted Zayne’s knee—a silent gesture.

Zayne raised a brow.

“…What?”

Elias pointed toward the kitchen. “Water.”

Zayne’s brows furrowed slightly, but after a moment, he stood up and headed toward the kitchen. “Alright,” he said simply.

The moment he was out of the room, Elias moved fast.

With a determined expression, he bolted toward the door, slammed it shut, and—click!

He locked it.

You stared in shock.

Elias calmly walked back over to you, climbed onto your lap, and curled into you like nothing had happened.

You heard a soft thud from the other side of the door.

“…Elias.” Zayne’s composed voice sounded from the hall. “Unlock the door.”

Silence.

“Elias.”

Your son nuzzled into your chest, looking completely content.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying so hard not to laugh. “Elias,” you whispered, “that wasn’t very nice.”

Elias clung to you tighter.

“…I want Mama.”

You felt your heart melt a little.

A sigh came from behind the door. “Elias.”

Elias was completely unbothered.

“Elias,” Zayne repeated. “This is not how you solve problems.”

Elias blinked up at you, then whispered softly, “Worked.”

You snorted.

Zayne was silent for a long moment.

Then, he sighed. “Understood.”

Footsteps.

“…I’ll be in my office.”

Elias waited until the sound disappeared, then finally looked up at you, victorious.

You ruffled his dark hair. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

Elias nestled into you. “Mm.”

But you knew what that meant.

It was worth it.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Xavier

The twins were on a mission.

A very important mission. A mission that required stealth, patience, and strategy.

Objective: Get rid of Dad. Target: Xavier, high-ranked Hunter of the Hunter Association—a man feared and respected by his colleagues, and annoying to his four-year-old twins, Leo and Livia.

Why?

Because he was hogging their Mama.

Xavier, for all his reputation as a ruthless Wanderer hunter, was easygoing at home. Most of the time, he lounged on the couch, half-asleep, draped over you like a human-sized cat. The whole reason he did not quit his job was because he had you at the morning aswell, when you two left the house for work.

And the twins hated it.

“Mama should be ours,” Leo whispered to his sister as they peeked from behind the couch.

Livia nodded, her greenish-blue eyes gleaming with determination. “Dad needs to go.”

The two of them turned their heads, staring at the problem.

Xavier was sitting lazily on the couch, one arm wrapped around you, face buried in your shoulder, half-asleep as usual.

You were used to it by now. Your jealous of himself, touch-starved, sleepy husband clinging to you whenever he had a break? Completely normal.

But to the twins? Unacceptable.

Phase One: Distraction.

Livia moved first. She scurried forward, grabbing your hands. “Mama, I want hugs!”

Xavier lazily cracked an eye open. His grip tightened slightly.

“I’m hugging them right now,” he murmured.

Livia pouted. “Yeah, but I want my own.”

Xavier blinked slowly, looking half a second away from falling asleep again. “…I don’t see why we can’t share.”

Leo gave his sister a look. Plan A failed. Time for Plan B.

Phase Two: Use Dad’s Weakness Against Him.

Livia stepped forward, pulling on Xavier’s sleeve. “Dad.”

Xavier yawned, rubbing his eye. “Mm?”

“Mom’s hungry.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, no, I’m not—”

Xavier immediately sat up. “You should’ve said something earlier.”

Leo stayed perfectly calm. “You should cook dad. we all love it.”

Xavier stared at his son, silent for a long moment.

“…I should cook?”

Livia nodded furiously, her expression full of fake innocence. “Yeah, Mama loves when you cook! We love it too!”

You coughed, trying very hard not to laugh. That was a lie. The last time he cooked for the twins, a plate accidentally fell off the table and broke, and the food on the other plate mysteriously disappeared.

Xavier sucked at cooking.

Like, horribly.

The last time he cooked, he had somehow burned water. if that wasn't bad enough, he had melted the plastic off of pans you owned.

But, in his half-asleep state, he nodded. “Alright,” he muttered, standing up sluggishly. “I’ll make something.”

Mission Success.

As soon as Xavier disappeared into the kitchen, the twins latched onto you like leeches.

“Mamaaaa,” Livia whined, burying her face into your chest. “You were with Dad all day.”

Leo nodded seriously. “Unfair.”

You chuckled, ruffling their messy blond hair. “You two are too much.”

“Mama, I want all your hugs,” Livia grumbled.

“Me too,” Elias added.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You two are just like your dad.”

Just as the twins were about to settle in, the sound of something exploding came from the kitchen.

All three of you froze.

A moment later, Xavier walked back in, completely unfazed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…I think I used the wrong burner.”

Leo and Livia groaned.

Mission Status: Failure.

I hope yall enjoyed this, I will write similar things to this in the future :)

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS AND KISSES

warning(s) mention of insomnia, comfort, established relationship, pet names, food/eating, physical touch and affection

synopsis xavier gets a call from you in the middle of the night. you have a last minute sleepover to help soothe nerves and connect more with your silver-haired lover! . ⟡ authors note a request from @sadfragilegirl hope you enjoy and sorry for the long wait! ⟡

the relationship between you and xavier was a new thing; a bit awkward and fidgety in the beginning, but blossoming and soft. you were used to his distinct smell of lavender and fresh laundry drifting through your apartment, the twinkle of his blue eyes, and his soft laugh that spread sparks of warmth through your body.

tonight, you were missing his presence. your apartment felt foreign and the silence all too loud. you bit your lip in the darkness of your room, finger hovering over the call button of his contact. you both had just finished a hard mission earlier today and decided to part ways for the night to rest and recuperate.

but the spot beside you in the bed felt too cold, empty of his long limbs and soothing voice lulling you to sleep. now, that sleep refused to come, and you tossed and turned until you finally bit the bullet and pressed call.

“what’s wrong?” his voice, still thick with sleep, immediately answered the phone. you could distinctly hear the rustle of linen bedsheets shift as he sat up, patiently waiting for your response.

you chewed your lip before answering, embarrassed beyond belief and nervous that you completely interrupted his rest. “I…well, I can’t sleep. was wondering if you could come over tonight—?”

you waited with bated breath, heart beating in your chest as there was a pause. then, “I’m heading over now. want me to bring some snacks?” you didn’t even have to respond— you heard the rustle of your favorite chips he kept stocked in his kitchen, making you giggle softly.

“see you soon, xavi.”

“I’ll be over soon.”

you occupied yourself with tidying up a bit before his arrival, setting comfy blankets and pillows onto the couch. you both loved soft mood lighting, no glaring overhead lighting to be seen, so you even lit a few candles around the surfaces of your apartment.

soon, you heard the distinct rap of your boyfriend at the door. you couldn't help a little thrill buzz through you in anticipation, quickly padding to the door and opening it with a flourish.

there stood your loverboy in fluffy checkered pajama pants and a plain white shirt, still rubbing sleep from his hazy blue eyes. his arms were wrapped around a bag of chips and a blanket.

you grinned up at him and a loopy smile greeted you back, as you then pulled him into the apartment with a click of the door. “y'know I gave you a key so you could come in yourself,” you teased lightly, watching as xavier dumped the assortment of objects onto the dining room table before turning back to you.

“I know. but still…” he murmured back, still wiping at his eyes before wrapping his arms around you for a hug. you greatly accepted it, immediately feeling better with his arms around you.

“I didn’t disturb you— did I?” you whispered after a beat, still a bit nervous at disturbing your cat-like boyfriend from his slumber.

in response, you felt the chuckle rumble through his chest before you heard it. his arms pulled you impossibly closer and lithe fingers soothed down your waist.

“silly, of course not. I missed you too, it was hard to sleep in my bed.” he confessed easily, patting your head affectionately when you pulled away to glance up at him. love is what you found in his eyes, steady and pure and adoring.

“so what should we do first?” he mused, yawning into your ear and practically leaning his full body weight onto you. you fought a dopey smile from breaking across your face, enamored by his relaxed aura he openly showed to you.

“skincare!” you clapped your hands together, startling him a bit as you pulled him to the bathroom. you pushed a pink my melody headband onto his head, securing his silver locks back. you fitted a kuromi one onto your head as he stared into the mirror.

“why do I get the pink one?” he questioned after a beat.

“because you’re adorable and cute, just like my melody.” you answered smoothly, grinning through the mirror as xavier’s cheeks immediately blushed a light pink. he rubbed the back of his neck as you laughed, setting the various bottles and ointment on the sink. he followed your instructions slowly, until you both walked out with matching hello kitty face masks.

“xavi, look over here!” you hummed excitedly. when he glanced over, you quickly whipped out your phone and took a picture with lightning quick reflexes.

he let out a startled gasp, playfully reaching for your phone as you laughed and twisted away from him. “hey!”

“now all our coworkers will know how cute you are at home. not the stuck-up they think, huh?” you purred, smiling as xavier groaned and slumped onto you again. you stumbled for a second under his weight, laughing once you realized this was another one of his tactics to get you to hand over the condemning evidence.

“I’m just joking. I have to keep your cute side all to myself,” you pouted, setting the picture as his contact photo instead. “this’ll do.”

xavier perked back up at that, but not before pinching your cheek as a warning. “‘m a little hungry. let’s make some cookies?” the silver-haired boy piped up, pulling you into the kitchen as you nodded eagerly. there was no way you were going to turn down his chocolate chip cookies— you had quickly realized that he was an astounding cook, able to make most anything from scratch, and his cookies were the best.

you hummed out a soft alexa, play favorite comfort song as you both maneuvered around each other. naturally, you found yourself sitting on the countertop watching as his distinct silver-hair moved back and forth. light conversation easily flowed between you both, and all you could feel was peace.

soon xavier came over to you, slotting between your legs and holding a finished cookie to your lips in a silent request. you obediently bit down, chocolate warmth and a nutty goodness spreading throughout your tastebuds. xavier’s eyes twinkled at your satisfactory hum of approval, popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

after removing the face masks and setting the cookies on a plate to cool, you both ended up wrapped in a shared blanket on the couch. a movie cut down on low played quietly in the background as you snuggled up closer to xavier’s distinct warmth.

“thank you for coming over,” you whispered up at him. he hummed back softly, setting his chin on your head as he gazed down at you.

twinkling eyes met you back. “of course. anytime you need me, I’ll be here. now let’s get some sleep.”

and sleep came easy again.

© SWEETEAAS 2024 do not repost/edit/copy my works. જ⁀➴ reblogs are appreciated!

A Special Night

Content: Fluff, nonsexual nudity that's really just one sentence

You stumble your way to your apartment door. Colors fill your vision, and the pressure in your head makes you want to cry. You ran around Linkon City chasing potential wanderers without the chance to eat or rest all day. To make matters worse, some of the civilians affected by wanderer attacks lashed out at you for not making it to their businesses in time to prevent damage. You are beyond exhausted to the point to where you can barely speak. On your way back to the apartment building, the only form of communication you could manage with Xavier was a brief text:

I’m on my way home. Everything hurts. I just want to go to bed. 

You open your door to see Xavier standing in your living room. Fairy lights twinkle across the TV and along the walls. You also see all your most comfy blankets covering the couch in front of the paused title card of your favorite movie. You look at Xavier with raised brows and your jaw slightly ajar. You don’t need to say any words for Xavier to understand what you’re thinking. “What is all this?” your expression says for you. 

Xavier gives you a peck on the cheek. “Tara called to tell me what happened today, so I wanted to surprise you. You don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of you tonight.” 

Before you know it, tears run down your face. You lean against Xavier’s shoulder and begin to cry. “Thank you,” you manage to whimper. 

Xavier rubs your back as he embraces your sore body. “Please don’t cry, and there’s no need to thank me. I’m here for you.” Xavier leads you first to the kitchen where he has dinner waiting for you on the table. It’s not hot pot, but braised chicken wings from a local restaurant. “Eat first. You’ll feel much better after eating something.” He, then, hands you a glass of water that you down in seconds. You don’t have to worry about lifting a finger. Xavier fills your glass again and hands you utensils, napkins, whatever you need before you can even ask. You eat to your heart’s content, and your headache begins to dull. 

Once you finish your meal, Xavier immediately picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. “What are you doing?” you ask.

“Helping you get a bath,” Xavier says nonchalantly. “We can’t watch the movie until we’re both comfortable in our pajamas. I’ll even wash and dry your hair for you.” 

You are unable to protest. Xavier begins undressing you as he waits for water to fill the tub. You sigh in relief when he removes your shirt. Your arms are so sore that you knew you could not lift them enough to take your shirt off yourself. You could forget washing your hair. “I don’t deserve you,” you say. Xavier kneels beside you as you sit on the edge of the tub. He takes your hands into his. Your cheeks turn red when you process he is making this gesture while both of you are naked. 

“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” he says, his azure eyes softening even more as he meets your gaze. Your exhaustion melts away as you admire his warmth and gentleness. “You have helped me more times than I can count when I was injured while hunting. It is a privilege to do the same and more for you. My purpose in this life is to take care of you to the best of my ability.” His words touch your heart so much that you tear up from happiness a second time that night. 

You and Xavier take a quick, warm bath. True to his word, he washes and dries your hair for you. He also grabs your pajamas from the bedroom, so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way over there to get them. Once the two of you are warm and dry, Xavier carries you to the couch where he tucks the two of you in under the blankets. 

You lean against Xavier’s chest as you both watch the movie in silence. His warmth, the dimness of the fairy lights, a full belly, and the peace from watching your comfort movie cause you to nod off. You catch yourself from falling asleep in an attempt to stay awake, at least until the end of the movie. You don’t want this perfect night to end. Not yet. However, Xavier notices your struggle to remain conscious. 

“Starlight,” he whispers, “are you ready to go to bed?” 

“Nooo,” you mumble. “I want to stay awake. We have to finish the movie.” Xavier chuckles as he kisses your forehead. 

“Alright, but I’m bringing you to bed the moment you fall asleep.” You really try to keep your eyes open. You want to appreciate every second of this thoughtful night that Xavier gifted to you, but, unfortunately, you are just too tired. It is about half a minute before you pass out from your exhaustion. Your body goes limp on top of Xavier, falling into a deep sleep. He caresses your face, giving you one more kiss before bringing you to bed. That night, you have the best sleep you ever had in years. 

Spring arrives... bringing... Lumiere!! ( •̀ ᴗ •́ ) و ✨

📖⬅⬅⬅

Pancakes at Sunset

content: fluff, xavier x reader, soft teasing, domestic, cozy vibes

word count: 893 words

requested by — @sadfragilegirl

now playing: Best Part by Daniel Ceaser ft H.E.R

You place the plates on the table as Xavier settles into the chair beside you. You had cooked pancakes with bacon and eggs—definitely not your usual dinner choice. The savory scent of sizzling bacon mixed with maple syrup still clings to the air. It’s oddly comforting, but also… well, odd. It was already dinner time.

Xavier glances at the spread, then up at you. One brow arches, his golden eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. “Breakfast?” he says, tone smooth and relaxed, like velvet draped over mischief. There’s no judgment there, just that usual playful cadence in his voice that makes your stomach flutter—more than it probably should.

You shrug, sliding into the seat across from him. “Yeah. I was craving it.”

“Craving,” he echoes, slowly, drawing the word out like he’s tasting it. His fork hovers over the pancakes for a moment before he stabs into them. “That’s a new one.”

You tilt your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He takes a bite, chews thoughtfully, and swallows. “Just that you usually go for something more… balanced. You’ve never made breakfast food for dinner before. This is a bold choice.” He gestures to the pancakes dramatically, like he’s hosting a cooking show. “An unprecedented one.”

“Maybe I just wanted comfort food,” you say, folding your arms and trying not to smile.

“Or…” He trails off, leaning back in his chair, fork spinning between his fingers. That sly smirk starts forming—the one you know all too well. “You’re being weird lately.”

Your brow lifts. “Weird?”

“Yeah. You’ve been… emotional. Sleeping a lot. Getting all huffy at me over nothing—don’t think I didn’t notice you almost cry when we ran out of strawberry jam.”

Your face warms. “That was a traumatic moment, thank you.”

He chuckles, low and warm. “And now pancakes for dinner? Something’s up.”

You narrow your eyes. “Maybe I just missed you.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He falters for half a second, eyes softening, that teasing edge dipping into something gentler. “I missed you too,” he says, sincere and quiet.

And just like that, your heart stumbles.

But then—he’s grinning again. “Still… this isn’t just missing me. You’re like… glitching.”

You scoff. “Oh, shut up.”

“I mean, first the jam, now the pancakes? You’ve been acting like a walking mood swing.” He props his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s next, singing to the plants? Crying over a commercial again?”

“It was a dog reunion ad, Xavier. You cried too.”

“That’s beside the point.”

You take a deep breath and lean back in your seat. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He doesn’t even try to deny it. “Because now I get to ask the big question.”

You pause, fork halfway to your mouth. “What?”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice, but still laced with that teasing edge. “Are you… pregnant?”

You nearly choke. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, it would explain the weird cravings, the naps, the moodiness.” He waves his fork like he’s presenting evidence. “You’ve been late too, right?”

Your cheeks flush instantly. “You are not seriously—”

“I’m just saying.” He takes another bite, talking through the mouthful. “Maybe there’s a little me in there already.”

You drop your fork. “Xavier.”

“What?” He’s laughing now, head tilted back just slightly, the kind of laugh that feels like a warm breeze—easy, light, completely him. “You’ve been looking at baby clothes on your phone too.”

“That was one time and it was an ad!”

“Sure it was.”

You throw a napkin at him. He catches it mid-air with a casual flick of his hand and smirks. “Reflexes of a starship pilot.”

“You’re impossible.”

He leans forward again, eyes crinkling at the corners with the fondness he always tries (and fails) to hide. “You know, if you were pregnant,” he says softly, “I’d take it in stride.”

You blink. “You… would?”

His voice turns warm, serious for a beat. “I’d be terrified. But I’d also be all in. No running. No hesitation. Just me… and you… figuring it out.”

Your chest tightens in the best way. You hadn’t really thought about that. At least, not seriously. But now, hearing him say it, tease it—mean it—it sends a pulse of warmth through you that pancakes alone couldn’t have managed.

Still, you roll your eyes. “Well, I’m probably not. I’m just… late.”

“Mmhm.” He hums, biting into a strip of bacon. “For now.”

You point a finger at him. “Don’t start nesting. We’re not naming anything.”

He grins devilishly. “Too late. I’ve already got five options for a girl and seven for a boy.”

You groan dramatically and cover your face. “I’m never making breakfast again.”

“You say that now,” he murmurs, sliding his chair closer so he can wrap an arm around your shoulder. He kisses your temple, a whisper of warmth against your skin. “But wait till the cravings hit again tomorrow.”

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The teasing continues until the plates are cleared and the night grows soft around you. And even though you’re sure you’re not pregnant, the way he looks at you… the way he smiles like he already sees a future unfolding with you in it—maybe, just maybe—you let yourself imagine it too. Just a little. Just enough.

Thank you for requesting! Requests are open. Reblogs and liking would help a lot!! Thanks for the past support. My heart is warming. - Zane 𖹭

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ how they kiss you — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

genre. fem! reader, making out (quite sexual), body fondling, established relationship

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

there's always a subtle silence before you happen to feel it— you know? the way zayne watches your lips like he's studying anatomy again— not clinically, silly! but reverently, like he might carve the shape of your mouth into his memory.

so precise, so devout, it borders on madness. soaked in tension and lust— quite obsessive, don't you agree? almost grotesque in how deeply he desired you.

the man leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost over your skin as he abruptly stops, catching himself in the same course of action he tends to take, every damn time.

zayne held himself back like the act of restraint was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into you completely, succumbing to those pretty, warm lips of yours as something deep inside of him broke that night.

he's going deeper before pressing into your lips at last— his psyche, his shadows, the way the hunger on his tongue felt different than anyone else's as he cups your face like he's afraid of shattering it, mouth crashing into yours.

not messy, not wild, instead, devastatingly precise— and every stroke of his warm muscle felt like it's been rehearsed in secret, fantasized about in sinful dreams as his hand slides down your throat, thumb resting on your pulse like he's checking it— not for medical reasons, but for control.

the kiss deepens and sharpens at the edges of each lap and suckle of your bottom lip between his teeth as his body presses you to the nearest surface with a force just edging on subtle bruising— and when your fingers suddenly thread into his hair to taste him more, when you pull him harder into you— he groans low, a sound rattling from somewhere hidden and forbidden, yes, like something sacred within him was being exposed.

and well, in that exposé, zayne finds a terrible, exquisite relief in each slip and slide of your tongues intertwining, bodies stroking each other as though this was the only way he's ever known how to feel alive.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier touches you first— although not to grope, yet to ground himself with his palm on your shaking hip while his other hand brushes against your soft cheek, and that look on him which was revealed next haunted you— like he's seeing a future he doesn’t believe he deserves.

slow, searching, his lips coax across your bottom lip, the tension behind each suckle on it unbearable as he continues to trace yours like he's adamant to make it everlasting. your boyfriend grunted like restraint stretched thin inside his frame, like one more kiss might tip him over the edge into something more, well, feral? ugh, but he holds himself back of course. 

yet just barely.

those kisses you shared weren't just random pecks here and there, they felt like confessions, truly, like a collapse of two loving hearts forming a dance of possession— each movement sharpening to the truth of what this relationship meant to him, all of it rooted in desire and lust, shadowed with emotional gravity and physical intensity of hands squeezing your flesh.

and you felt it, all of it— the tremble in his fingers, the quiet threat of his teeth brushing just behind every soft tug at your lip, as though even the smallest motion could unravel him further.

you arch into him, obediently feeling the low, guttural sound that escaped his throat— a half moan, a sound so faint it could almost be mistaken for a prayer, whispered to no god at all, but to the madness he cannot escape.

your lips stay close at all times, breathing hard against each other with foreheads pressed together, "i don't want to hurt you," his voice, thick with restraint, was taken hostage somewhere between a confession and collapse, yet his hands disobey him at last— sliding beneath your shirt with a quiet desperation, mapping the ridges of your shape like he's meant to be.

truly, if you let him keep going with those addictive kisses, he'll worship you until he forgets where he ends and you begin.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

hands in your hair, rafayel's lips were already open and panting, breath warm and uneven and jaw slacked, well, it's all then and there with no waiting, no warning— just the sudden, dizzying sensation of being devoured by the man you loved.

his tongue was everywhere on you— teasing you, curling and invading your mouth as he moans into your parted lips, pulling your lower lip between his teeth and laughing when you gasp out in slight shock— quite literally, the man loved to push you over the edge, he lived for the sweet, little responses you'd grace him with in return.

from being tangled in your hair to squeezed within your clothes, rafayel slides down further to cup your ass, squeezing the addicting mounds of flesh as you wince into his hold, "ugh, you taste like a bad decision," he smirks, whispering against your mouth, yet already leaning right back in.

before you could even response to him he kisses you harder, deeper, lapping and lapping and lapping his hefty tongue against your own as your hips were grinding against him just enough to make the room spin and your eyes roll back into your skull.

without a doubt, every second with him felt like falling and screaming and shattering all at once— fast at that, disoriented and inevitable when all you needed is for him to imbed you with his scent until there was nothing left of you to claim.

it's there when you realize that rafayel tasted like the sweetest sin that has ever existed, not kissing to seduce, but to ruin— and make sure you’re begging him for it.

for a slight second he pulls away just enough to look at your lips and what he's done to them— and would you look at that? your boyfriend adored the lusting sight of swollen, glistening, needy lips parted and puffed up, "baby, you're gonna be the death of me."

rafayel says it like it's a promise.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you can’t call this a kiss— no, not with the way sylus's mouth drags across yours like he's already lost the war against wanting you.

to call it a claim would be closer though, but even that sounds too civilized. there is nothing civil about the way his tongue parts your lips— wet, scorching, impatient, nothing gentle in the sting of his teeth catching your mouth, just enough to pull breath from your lungs and copper to your tongue.

he tastes it— even better, tastes you— and it makes something violent bloom in his chest as he growls out embarrassingly loud, not like an animal but like a man who's tasted divinity and was furious that he ever lived without it in the past.

his grip on your hips tighten as he drags you against him, feeling you up like shame didn't exist in his vocabulary, in fact, it quite literally didn't.

not a flicker of hesitation, not even the illusion of pause— only the dreadful inevitability of a hunger given form around his tongue, his lips moving with the certainty of something long premeditated, as if his body had been waiting its entire life for permission to devour you.

he doesn’t ask for allowance to be rougher, sylus knows he doesn’t need to.

his mouth licks into yours with a frenzied rhythm, like he’s trying to bury every unspeakable thought inside your throat as every shove, every bitten gasp, every ragged exhale that leaves his body was a hidden confession disguised as a dominating sin.

the man was not delicate. he was not kind. but he was true.

terrifyingly, brutally true.

furthermore, his tongue traces a wet line from your bottom lip, creeping toward your jaw, then dipping lower to your neck— infused with desperation and something dangerously raw.

his teeth find your skin at last— not out of need, no, but out of some dark impulse deep hidden beneath his heart, as if marking you up was the only act left that can prove he existed, that he's here, tethered to a body that's already unraveling.

"you have no fucking idea," he pants, his breath a jagged rhythm against your skin as if the act of inhaling and exhaling was the only thing that kept him secured— each exhalation a tremor, a faint admission of the madness threatening to spill over.

he smirks, "what you’ve done to me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

in the language of a yearning man, caleb doesn't speak— instead the silence clung to him like a second skin, as if words would shatter whatever fragile shell still held him upright.

as an alternative, his hands found your waist as he exhales deeply from his mouth when he feels your body— yet tentative at first, but with a pressure that deepens and sharpens, afterwards he leans in to kiss you.

not in a haste, no, not like a man chasing basic pleasure, but like a man aching with his mouth against yours— slow, burning, unbearably tender.

his lips taste of quiet torment, of years spent repressing the thing now trembling beneath his touch and the longer it goes on, the more unraveled he becomes— now here, his breath falters, his jaw tenses and when his tongue brushes up against your own needy one, it is with such aching slowness that it felt like a sin.

he grips your jaw softly, almost fearfully, as if he cannot believe you're letting him touch you as his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants— fingertips skimming over your bare flesh and squeezing at it like he's utterly worshipping you.

more and more, you want more but the kiss breaks open, becoming wet and open-mouthed, desperate and messy and ugh— caleb cannot stop and neither can you, even less when you whine at him all quietly and overstimulated, the kind of sound which made a man fall on his knees.

okay, he should pull away, correct? uh, before you'll both be unable to stop and take it further, you see the truth in that?

well, he doesn’t.

and neither do you.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

Tf.... i shouldn't laugh.. but

🤣🤣🤣

It was funny make this lol

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

full credit to artist: @fishbone0306 on X!

"Wake up, Osamu..."

After the Ithaca Saga, I believe that Odysseus thought he and Athena were officially done forever and would only occasionally see each other because she was mentoring Telemachus now. He really thinks there's no way they can reconnect anymore and attempt at a friendship this time, but he's fine with it, he can accept it.

That is until Telemachus goes up to him one day like:

"Hey father, can I ask you something?"

"Yes son, of course."

"You mentored under Athena before right? Do you happen to know a friend of hers?"

"Oh I... I wasn't aware Athena had friends before. She was very adamant about that "No Friends" rule back then... kind of stings."

"Oh really? She talks about him a lot."

"Does she now? *mumbling* must be so special about this fRieNd of Athena..."

"Yeah she told me about this one time he wanted to impress someone, so he climbed on all the way to the tree branch next to the balcony of their room and leaned against the trunk to look cool, but he kept talking to Athena in her owl appearance so he didn't notice the other person going to the balcony and he got so spooked when they called out to him, he turned too fast and lost balance, slipped, smacked his ass on the tree branch and broke his arm when he fell, so he had to wear a sling for 3 months and couldn't sit down for 2 weeks."

"....call Athena right now."

"Why-"

"ATHENA!!!"

The second Athena appeared, Odysseus threw himself at her, on one hand going "YOU CONSIDER ME YOUR FRIEND WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO!?!?!?!" and on the other going "WHY ARE YOU TELLING MY SON ALL MY EMBARRASSING STORIES!?!?! THAT WAS BETWEEN ME, PENELOPE AND YOU!!"

He was actually crying. Athena has absolutely no idea what is happening or what she should do. Telemachus just discovered a whole new side of his dad and might know where he gets it from now....