Can I request headcanons for all 5 lads men reacting to his shy gn s/o asking him if you can sit on his lap in private please?
𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚HI! i'm so sorry for taking so long! at first, i had a "o-omg o(>///<)o i'm s-so s-s-shy!" type of reader in mind, but i couldn't take myself seriously, so i subdued it a lil' bit, lol. anyway ᵎᵎ i really hope you enjoy it, because this was too pure and fun to write and picture in my mind 𐔌՞꜆. ̫.꜀՞𐦯
𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭
caleb can tell whenever you need something, anything, even if it is as simple as wanting bubblegum.
he won't ever push you to voice your desires or needs, but he loves when you do.
he loves when you need him.
and he loves when you audibly tell him so.
so, imagine his surprise when you quietly stand at the end of his bed, looking up at him with that “hi, i want something but i won't say it out loud and i will let you guess what is going on” stare.
he tilts his head, sitting up before patting the space next to him on his bed.
you shake your head, rooted in place.
he tilts his head to the other side, like a seriously confused puppy.
not because he doesn't understand, but because he didn't expect you to reject being close to him.
“what's wrong, baby?”
you avert your gaze, focusing on his aircraft models instead.
all organized, all prettily displayed.
he stands up and walks to you, gently taking your chin between his long fingers to bring your gaze back to him.
“pips.”
you look up.
he gently smiles and brushes your cheek with his thumb.
“talk to me. what is it?”
it takes you a bit, but you mumble, leaning into his warm and familiar touch.
he doesn't understand much, except for the word “lap.”
“come again, pipsqueak?”
you avert your gaze and groan, stepping back.
“forget it, leb. it was… it was a bit dumb anyway.”
before you can fully escape from his reach, he already has both your hands in his, and he pulls you closer, leaning down to search your face with his.
his eyes are attentive, too much, and he's pushing his face way too close, just like a hyperactive, curious kid staring at fish through the glass at an aquarium.
you can't help but chuckle and softly push him away.
“caleb!”
he smiles back, of course, always feeling happy whenever you are.
“please, tell me what it is that you need. anything. i'll get it for you right now.”
and more than helpful, he sounds… eager, almost desperate to help.
he is searching between your eyes, wanting to hear anything you have to say, no matter how small.
if he had a puppy tail, you're sure it would be swishing from side to side oh so fast.
—and he'd have a collar with your name in bold letters around his neck, too.—
“i, uh… leb, i swear it's not a big deal. i just thought it would be cute to…”
he nods encouragingly.
“yes? to what, baby? hm?”
he caresses your hands now, literally ready to sprint to a store, or to push the moon back if you didn't want it to be nighttime anymore.
“i want to sit on your lap.”
you quietly say, feeling every fiber of your skin getting hotter.
it wasn't hard to say, in fact, the words roll off your lips so naturally.
he wasn't expecting that.
so he mentally exploded for… five seconds.
before he grins and soon sits down, patting his lap.
“of course! anytime, pips. c'mere.”
but you don't go.
you didn't expect to make it this far, so you step back, a bit hesitant.
but he isn't having it. not at all. he softly stands up and grabs you by your waist, plopping you down on top of him as he sits back down.
“there we go, all nice and comfy.”
he sighs, smiling warmly at you.
your cheeks heat up, and you can't help but hide your face in the crook of his neck.
you didn't want to make it weird.
you just wanted to sit on his lap to see what it was like, what his legs felt like, what it was to feel his strong chest and his scent.
and it felt… perfect.
however, you were frozen. both silent and still, quietly enjoying the moment but not wanting to create a big scene so as not to make this bigger than it was supposed to be.
on the other hand, he was floating.
having you sitting on his lap is one thing, but hearing you say so clearly that you wanted to, was a completely different story.
he could hold you like this forever, he thinks.
when his hands softly roam around your back, and he lifts your chin up to nibble on your lower lip, you softly smack his head.
“...don't make this weird, leb.”
he pulls back with a cheeky grin on his handsome face.
“since you won't tell me everything that you want, i'll just have to guess and check off everything on the list… one by one.”
he kisses your lips softly.
“and we have all night to try, don't we, sweet pips?”
your heart beats faster, and you just stare at him.
but, being honest? you'd much rather have him guess than have to voice embarrassing needs and get frustratingly shy.
at least this way, it'll seem like it was his idea all along to have you like this.
so, as long as he reads you perfectly like he always does, you decide you won't have to embarrass yourself often by opening your mouth.
and, now that you think about it, being in his lap after almost dying inside from asking out loud, feels like a reward for being vocal.
so, who's the puppy now?
𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭
you yawned and rubbed your eyes upon entering his studio.
he was sitting on a ridiculously tall stool, a bit long for him to move freely and reach those pesky corners when he insisted on painting on a huge canvas.
you wondered how it would be to sit next to him; or rather, straddle his lap as he worked, enjoying being so close to him yet so far from the floor.
it felt risky.
and, of course, you didn't dare to ask it out loud.
you simply stared with curiosity, until he turned around slightly to look down.
when he sees you, he smiles.
“ah, wonderful timing! can you pleaaaase pass me that brush?”
you look towards where he is pointing, seeing like… seven brushes scattered around.
“uhm…”
“the one on top of the other one, cutie… no, on your left. uh, wait, my left!”
you frown, taking all of the brushes and stepping up the stool carefully.
his smile widens and he receives you with open arms.
“my, spare me from the upcoming tide! was it really that hard to pick up a brush, cutie?”
you push the brushes against his chest, rolling your eyes slightly.
“yes.”
he makes space for you, and you scoot closer, feeling as your legs dangle.
when your annoyance subsides, and he is once again immersed in his painting, you look down at his lap again.
should you ask?
no.
he'll tease you endlessly.
…but you'd get what you want, right?
you look for a bit too long, until you feel a cold, wet stroke against your cheek.
he softly brushed a wet brush against your skin.
“what's on your mind, my pearl?”
you clean your cheek with your sleeve, before shaking your head gently.
“nothing much…”
he smiles, kissing your head.
“hm, if there's someone with nothing on their mind, that's probably me. come on, cutie. spill it.”
you chuckle, before leaning against him.
your ears start warming up, and he looks attentive.
patient too, you must add.
because he knows how flustered you can really get.
“uhm, so, don't you think it'd be cute to…?”
“to?”
he props his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in the palms of his hands as he gazes at you.
you close your eyes before blurting it out.
“can i sit on your lap?”
it comes out quick, almost too quick for him to catch.
but he does, and he smiles victoriously.
his precious pearl, asking so shyly to be in such a romantic position as he paints?
out of a movie.
10/10.
he doesn't talk, instead pulling you carefully towards him, always keeping his movements graceful as he doesn't want to let you fall, nor fall himself off the stool.
your back is pressed against his chest, and he puts the clear vase with his brushes in your hands, as if you were a table.
“hey!”
but he quickly starts painting, resting his chin on your shoulder as he moves his arms around, changing his brushes from time to time from the small vase you're holding.
soon enough, you sigh and relax, following his seemingly simple yet so mesmerizing strokes across the top part of the canvas.
you don't want to, but you fall asleep, as if the waves he's painting were singing a lullaby for you.
and once he feels your body relaxing, and the vase in your hands tilts gently, he puts it aside and holds you closer, his own cheeks now pink.
bright pink.
how can you be so cute?
how can you be so shy, too?
it's unfair. he wants to hear and see you being needy more often, but the fact that you almost never do because of how flustered you get…
is way more endearing in his eyes.
two hours pass, and when you wake up, you see yourself high up.
if it wasn't for rafayel's arms around you, you would've panicked.
he softly kisses your cheek from behind, and you turn to him, getting flustered again…
“welcome back.”
as if your brain registered once again the position you were in.
and the fact that you asked for it.
he cheekily says.
you look back at his painting, and… much to your surprise, among the beach escape he painted, you could make out a silhouette on the sand.
him and you.
cuddling under the sun.
“raf…?”
he changes the subject, handing you the vase back.
“you almost dropped it, cutie. you kinda suck as an assistant.”
you furrow your eyebrows, but you can't really move that much in the stool, which means you can't pinch his cheeks.
but you do notice his blushy cheeks and the way he avoids your gaze, focusing on softening the lines surrounding your silhouettes.
knowing he gets just as flustered as you do, even when he actively teases you…
makes you feel a bit more at ease, somehow.
you finally allow yourself to lean against his touch, both of you silently agreeing to ignore your heartbeats going faster and the way your breaths hitch.
a truce, if you will.
maybe there are things rafayel keeps to himself, too.
and you start to understand why he loves it when you speak your mind and ask him to fulfill your wishes.
because you think you want to fulfill his as well.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭
ah, a wonderful evening, truly; lots of guests, the most exquisite drinks and a soft, jazz melody subtly setting the amicable mood.
expensive perfume, designer high heels clicking, obnoxious laughs…
it was overwhelming.
you were holding sylus' arm, lost in thought as he discussed something you truly ignored the context of.
his eyes fell on you, and he immediately dismissed the group of men he was talking to.
he gently took your hand in his and kissed the back of it.
“shall we leave, darling?”
you look into his eyes and sigh softly.
you knew this was an important event, and even when sylus repeatedly stated that you are far more important than anything or anyone else, you still don't want to ruin this for him.
“no, i just… need a breather.”
you softly ask, caressing his hand with your thumb.
he cradles your head and pulls you closer, placing a lingering kiss on your forehead.
“as you wish.”
he knows you don't exactly excel at establishing relationships with strangers, let alone have the spotlight on you for more than one minute, so he already expected you to want your space —which didn't bother him at all.
he was so proud, regardless, because you were keeping up so well, and all for him.
you were such a sweetheart.
he led you to a lounge room, which had some guests inside, mingling and drinking.
but upon seeing sylus, they hushed and soon stood up, quietly leaving.
you sit down on a rather comfy white sofa with expensive‑looking cushions, and he sits close to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
no matter how overwhelmed you felt, it never happened with sylus.
his presence was commanding, yes.
but his soul was gentle.
and his gaze was understanding.
and the subtle gestures and stances made you feel safe and cared for.
listened to.
understood.
however, you can't deny the way you still keep things to yourself, mostly because you are afraid of voicing your desires out loud.
—he absolutely knows your deepest desires, though. there's no point in hiding them from him.—
right now, you need to recharge. and having him so close and inviting only feeds your imagination.
but he respects you, and he literally does what you tell him to; not the other way around, as other bystanders think.
you don't dare asking such a thing…
but he's never denied you anything.
maybe he knows what you want by now?
maybe he doesn't.
what if he wants it too, but doesn't act on it because you haven't asked for it?
you shift, before softly tapping his thigh.
he looks at you, tilting his head ever so slightly.
“yes, sweetie?”
you stay silent for a few seconds, finding the right words.
“may i sit on… on your lap? please.”
you mumble, your whole body burning up after such a simple request.
you've been in his lap before, sure.
but he always had pulled you in.
you never actually asked for it yourself.
he's delighted. actually, this made his entire month.
he spreads his legs on the couch and pats his right thigh, not saying anything.
he knows his voice will get you even more flustered, so he treats you like he would treat a wary kitten.
silent, patient, gentle.
until you crawl into his lap, hesitating before straddling it.
your gazes meet, and he doesn't comment at all. he just presses your noses together, rubbing them from side to side.
you close your eyes and sigh, forgetting all the heavy sensations.
the music isn't as loud anymore.
the drinks don't smell as strong.
the chattering outside doesn't sound like billions of different instruments being played at once, it just sounds… faint.
and when he wraps his arms around you, you nuzzle against him, ignoring your increased heart rate.
he is, once again, so proud of you.
so proud of you for voicing your desires, no matter how innocent or simple.
he wants you to claim what's yours, to take without asking, for he is yours eternally.
but he'll also settle with this; your clenched fists tugging at his shirt, your closed eyes, your warm skin.
one way or another, they indicate you're overwhelmed by the desires he ignites in you, by the thoughts, by the needs.
and even when you're not demanding as you totally have the right to do…
he'll treasure moments like these, when he has you all to himself, and he manages to catch a glimpse of what you truly want, to hear your inner voice, to know what's on that reserved mind of yours.
after a brief dismissive hand gesture followed by dark crimson smoke, the door to the lounge room closes with a click.
no one shall disturb you as you recharge.
especially not when you're claiming what's yours in such a sweet, vulnerable way.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭
the weather forecast displayed on the tv filled out the otherwise quiet living room.
the days were about to get warmer, nicer, sunnier.
xavier was already enjoying the warm rays of sun peeking through the ajar windows.
he was sleeping; lips parted, his arms loosely draped against a cushion, and his legs slightly spread open, with a light blanket covering his lap.
of course, sunny days meant leaving the air conditioning on, and the way he carelessly slept was tempting you to take a refreshing nap in the middle of the day, too.
however, there was a tiny problem.
you didn't want to disturb him, let alone tell him what you wanted to do.
which was sitting on his lap.
you sat next on the sofa, slowly crawling until you were kneeling next to him.
you tilted your head, making sure he was fully asleep —you didn't really need to check— before looking down at his lap.
hesitantly.
should you take off the blanket first?
what if he wakes up?
will he tease you non-stop?
or will he blankly ask what is it that you're doing?
that'd be mortifying—
your thoughts were soon interrupted by a curious gaze falling on you, as well as a soft sigh from his lips.
“hm?”
he rubs one of his eyes with one hand, as the other eye focuses on you.
“oh… sorry.”
you quickly whisper, sitting on the heels of your feet, clearly flustered by being caught.
“what is it, my star?”
he asks with a little bit of concern, blinking slowly as he is getting used to the bright sunlight.
crap.
now what?
you swallow audibly, fidgeting with the blanket that lays on his lap.
“so… i just wanted to sit on your lap. if that's okay, of course.”
it is barely audible, really.
if it wasn't because xavier almost always speaks softly and has his ear trained by now, he might have missed it.
instead, he just looks at you.
and then, he takes off the blanket, gesturing at his lap with a soft gesture with his head.
inside, he's melting.
the way you hesitate.
the way you avoid looking into his eyes as you slowly slip into his arms, both your legs straddling him…
the way your cheeks feel smoking hot when he puts a strand of hair away from your face.
and it was because of a simple thing, really.
being on his lap shouldn't be a difficult request for you to make.
after all, he's cuddly, you two are a couple, he loves having you close…
it just makes sense.
however, xavier isn't complaining.
he understands to a certain degree keeping things for himself, and only acting out when he really needs to.
or when he feels like he might combust if he doesn't.
when you finally are satisfied with your position, you wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your embarrassed expression on his chest.
he covers your back with the light material of the blanket, this time holding you instead of the cushion.
he rubs his cheek against your head like a kitten, trying to move gently, slowly.
as to not scare you away or make you feel overwhelmed from the attention you got after your request.
“you know, you don't need to ask.”
he softly says, using both his hands to hold you in place, even when you don't plan to move anytime soon.
you look up at him, narrowing your eyes slightly.
“you always ask before doing something, xav.”
ah, it's true.
he always asks for your consent or if you feel like cuddling, watching a movie or even sharing a kiss.
yet, he wants you to know he doesn't care if you just… do whatever you feel like with him.
after all, he restrains himself for… other reasons.
meanwhile, you restrain yourself because you either feel too shy to share what you want out loud, or because you're afraid you'll get teased forever.
or worse; you're afraid he won't like what you have in mind.
so, logically, your cases are complete opposites.
and he will stop those thoughts, whatever it takes, because they could never happen.
he would never reject something as genuine as a need of yours.
even more so if that need involves him, and only he can take care of it.
“i know, starlight. just… everything that comes out of love, —out of you— will be more than welcomed. i promise.”
you stay quiet, but there's a subtle smile on your lips as you nod, relaxing little by little under the warmth that leaks through the windows on this particularly sunny day, and the warmth of his soft skin even with the cold air hitting from the ceiling above your two curled-up figures.
he doesn't care if summer just started; he's already hoping for a cozy autumn to come, so he can't keep treasuring all these moments when your self-restraint fades.
little by little.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭
you went to his office, waiting for him as he treated patients.
outside his window, you could see a modern yet serene scenery.
the hallway was always silent, despite being constantly transited, so recognizing his calculated footsteps as he approached was easy.
when he entered, all of the tension in his shoulders left.
he sighed and walked up to you, —prettily sitting on his desk chair— to greet you with a soft kiss on the forehead.
you closed your eyes before looking up at him.
not moving from his chair, even when he obviously needed to sit down and keep working.
he didn't think much about it, as he carefully removed his coat and then opened a drawer to put away his lanyard with his favorite pen attached to it.
you followed him with your gaze, until he dragged another chair next to yours, upon seeing you weren't moving from his spot.
he didn't care; he wanted you to be comfortable, even if that meant having a bit of back pain as he typed into his laptop.
you frowned, looking down at your lap, and then back at his.
you thought your —plain and blank— gaze would be obvious enough for him to sit with you, or to even offer his lap as a chair instead.
…logically, it wasn't.
you didn't want to ask for it out loud, because it was embarrassing.
besides, zayne was just starting to be vocal about the things he wanted to do with you.
after all, you two were more into silent gestures and mutual understanding —like cute, shy lovebirds—.
when you rolled his chair back and stood up, you softly tapped his shoulder before patting his usual seat.
“here.”
he just looked up at you with a puzzled expression, before his gentlemanly self carefully guided you to sit back down.
you refused.
“zaynie, please sit…”
he noticed your insistence and the way your eyes avoided his so adorably.
were you feeling shy?
ah, now he got it.
he complied, sitting down on his ergonomic chair and continuing to type.
you stared at him.
then at his lap, like a cat preparing to hunt; identifying the prey and getting ready to pounce.
…only that you were a timid one, hesitating between wanting to be petted and not wanting to make a fool of yourself for seeming too needy.
you didn't notice how quietly yet intensely you'd been staring until he softly waved his hand in front of your face.
“love, is everything alright?”
here you go.
“can i sit?”
you asked quickly, but in a soft voice.
he blinked repeatedly before nodding.
what kind of question is that?
“well, of course you can sit,” he slowly and obviously stated before rubbing your arm. “i insist, my love, is everythi—?”
“on your lap, i mean.”
again, it was quick.
painfully embarrassing.
as if the faster you said it, the faster your shyness would go away.
but it didn't, because your skin was burning, your palms were sweaty, and you felt that unnerving tickling in your belly.
please just answer, please just answer, please just—
“...go ahead.”
he pushed himself away from the desk ever so slightly, spreading his legs for you.
he fixed his glasses, pushing them forward on the bridge of his nose.
okay.
no.
you couldn't do this.
retreat!
when you stepped back, wanting to hide from the overwhelming heat on your cheeks, he pulled you in.
he sat you on his left thigh, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other began to type again, as if this were nothing.
but it was serious; this was an important turn of events.
you were panicking, but luckily for you, your back was pressed against the left side of his chest.
and luckily for him, you couldn't see his red ears and blushy face, either.
after what felt like an eternity of silence except for the rather fast tapping on the keys, he spoke.
“you can always… ask for this. or anything, for that matter.”
you stayed silent, as his tone indicated he was about to say more.
“in private, at home… back at meow's café.”
you turned your head to look at him, with a playful yet small smile on your lips.
“wouldn't you be able to look at my cards like that?”
he smiled too, and suddenly, the tension you both felt eventually subsided.
“i'd still let you win.”
after turning your gaze back to his laptop, his words resonated.
you can always ask for this…
or ask for anything else.
anything at all.
you felt reassured, and a warm smile appeared on your face.
“you too can ask for anything.”
you whispered, faint enough for him to know you said something, but not clear enough for him to understand.
but when he peeked at your happy profile and the way you were relaxing against him, he didn't really need to ask.
he kissed your temple and continued working.
both of you in comfortable silence.
maybe, the next time you stared blankly at him and expected him to read your mind, he'd know exactly what you wanted.
he'd add it to the list of quiet gestures —or rather, shy yet secret demands— between you two.
