lads boys 🍎 ⛄ ⭐ 🐦⬛ 🐠 🐺: react to the "isapod wants...." trend
warnings: fem reader! suggestive content! swearing!
ꨄ︎ lads masterlist ꨄ︎
chuu's note: this was a pain to make but i hope its ok TT
Caleb
Zayne
Xavier
Sylus
Rafayel
Valko
chuu's note: xavis one lowk something I did when I was interstate... I would bother my friend who was the floor beneath cos I didnt have enough bread lol (we usually got 1 loaf and split it bw each other cos we were saving money)
— in which you post a fit check. the crowd goes (a little too) wild
ft: all six LIs
content: fluff. your friends are very Supportive and the lads are Stressed trying to fend off your many fans 😬
notes: if yall have requests/ideas for smaus i'm all ears <3 asks are open
As my official favorite lads author on tumblr, I offer you my best idea:
What do we think of XavMc overstimulated bc Xavier eats the 🐱 waayyy too much to the point where mc cant take it anymore; but he JUST. WOULDNT. STOP. pussy drunk some would say.
Since MC is a strong hunter, her only way to stop Xavier from pushing her to another orgasm is to lock her legs on xavier and roll him alligator style and knocks him off the bed :D
Gluttony
Is not much, dear anon, but it's honest work 😊
CW: Oral 🔞MDNI 🔞
You knew Xavier. The soft spoken, patient Xavier.
But you also knew the one between your legs right now. He had his forearms hooked under your thighs, legs pinned wide open.
He was eating you out like it was his only source of oxygen, lap after wet lap, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing it with the tip of his tongue until your were practically floating out of your body.
"Xavie." you pulled at his hair."Xavier."
He hummed against you. A self satisfied hum that went straight to your clit, to all the eight thousand nerve endings of it
"I'm serious," you gasped, thighs trembling against his shoulders, fingers tightening in his hair with what was supposed to be a discouraging grip "I can't —fuck— Xavier, I'm going to pass out—"
He pulled back half an inch. Just half an inch, just enough that you could see his face, which was a huge mistake because his face was not the face of a man who was about to stop. His mouth was slick and swollen, his eyes had that particular glaze that meant his brain had fully departed the premises, and he looked at you with unfocused devotion.
"Just one more, you sound—"
"No."
"—so pretty when—"
"I can't—"
He went back down.
His tongue found your clit again— he'd mapped the whole thing by this point, knew exactly the angle, the pressure, the combination that made your back leave the mattress— and he used all of that information without mercy, two fingers pushing inside you and cuuurling up while his tongue worked in slow circles.
Your thighs tried to close but his shoulders were in the way. He pressed them back open and didn't even look up.
Words had failed. You'd tried please, you'd tried stop, you'd tried the man's full name in three different tones of voice. None of it had worked. He was pussydrunk. Again.
You were a trained Deepspace Hunter and desperate times call desperate measures.
He dipped his head to lick your entrance just above his fingers and you snapped your knees together around his neck.
"Mmph—"
Locked your ankles and felt him go still. Gave him approximately two seconds to understand what was happening and then threw your weight sideways with everything you had and executed a full roll.
THUD.
The sheets went with him. Two pillows hit the floor. Xavier hit the floor.
Your breathing was the loudest thing in the room. You were lying close to the edge of the bed, every muscle below your waist sending you strongly worded messages, but you were free.
Slowly, a head of disheveled hair appeared over the edge of the mattress.
He was sitting in a nest of fallen pillows, sheets twisted around his legs, looking up at you with beautiful innocent blue eyes.
"Did you just—" He cleared his throat, rubbing his jaw.
"You left me no choice." You pointed at him, your hand was shaking slightly. " I have lost feeling in my legs."
He looked at your legs. Then back at your face and pressed his lips together.
"Don't."
He pressed his lips together harder but it wasn't working. The corners were losing the battle.
"The lock was—"
"Xavier."
Resting his chin on the edge of the bed, he looked up at you with a slow, stupidly calm smile. He had absolutely no right to look that pleased with himself after what he’d just put you through.
"You're so beautiful when you're furious"
"And you are grounded" you looked at the ceiling "You don't get to be sweet right now."
"Sorry. I got carried away."
"You got possessed," you said"There's a difference."
"I got carried away," he repeated, softer, and he was your sweet Xavier again. "Are you okay?"
The problem with Xavier was that he did this. Went from whatever that had been directly to this, like there were two completely different people living in the same body and they took turns and you never got enough warning before the switch.
"I need water"
"I'll get it."
"You're still grounded."
"Okay."
"I mean it."
He stood up, gathering a tangled sheet off the floor and held it out to you like a white flag, bending low to brush a kiss against your cheek."The roll was genuinely impressive"
"I know" you yanked the sheet up to your chin and clamped your mouth shut, fighting for your life not to crack a smile.
what if MC is an anime geek just like me Ludwig would sit with her talking about plot twists and theories and lane is just 🧍🏻♂️ in the middle calling us nerds
"dude, you watch japanese cartoons for kids and you wonder why you cant get a girl? and YOU, why are you even listening to him? you got bad taste or something?"
Would Ludwig be more obedient than Lane in a relationship ? Like if his girlfriend would tell him to do something for her, scold him to not to do some dumb shit….
Oh, definitely. I think Lub would be way more obedient than Lane. He also seems like the type who listens to his parents, so there's a pretty good chance he'd listen to his girlfriend too.
Lane, on the other hand, doesn't like being told what to do, so he'd probably push back or just ignore it most of the time.
Like Laly said, Lub's 100% a sub, so maybe he'd naturally go along with it. Plus, I like to think he's the type
"You're pretty when you're mad at me- I- I mean it as a compliment."
They both enjoy it when their girls are a little mean to them. It's just for different reasons.
— in which you survey terrorize your husband by asking how much he'd rate your marriage
ft: all 6 LIs x reader
content: fluff. raf's is kiiinda suggestive. xav and valko are sweethearts, zayne and sylus are menaces, caleb pulls an uno reverse. random mcdonalds mention?
notes: 10th post! this is crazy, tysm for all the love <3
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: asking the lads guys if they prefer ass, tits, or thighs
𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: my first smau!! I got inspiration for it earlier today so I figured it would try it out! I know Caleb's is pretty short, I'm sorry 😔 I couldn't really get the hang of his character too well lol
𝘁𝘄: they're all a little suggestive but nothing too crazy happens, reader kinda threatens to shoot raf but not really, valko is ooc for obvious reasons
𝗳𝘁. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb, valko
♡ 𝘅𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗲𝗿 ♡
♡ 𝘇𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲 ♡
♡ 𝗿𝗮𝗳𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗹 ♡
♡ 𝘀𝘆𝗹𝘂𝘀 ♡
♡ 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗯 ♡
♡ 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗼 ♡
thank you so much for reading!!! I'll probably be making more when I get inspiration, so if you want to see anything specific, just let me know!! as always, likes, reposts, and comments are always appreciated! <3
Ok imma need yall to hear me out on this. Lads men reacting to someone else paying for MC's stuff when she goes out shopping for clothes, getting her hair done, getting her nails done, etc. I can only imagine how ENRAGED they'd be like "excuse the actual fucketh bc WHY IS A MAN THING PAYING FOR YOUR THINGS?!?? I know that youve been blessed bu the goddesses but DAMN!!"
Author’s Note: Thank you for this request, anon! Thank you for trusting me - it was such a fun prompt to explore. I hope I captured what you were picturing. Happy reading! 💝
Summary: Different bills. Different strangers. Same reaction : "I've got her."
A collection of Love and Deepspace drabbles centered around jealousy, possessiveness, and the LIs absolutely refusing to let another man pay for you.
Pairing: all the LIs (separately), including Valko x Reader
You failed to wake up to your alarm, which meant getting ready was a frantic rush.
With no time to make breakfast, you stop by a bakery on your way to work. There’s no way you can survive on an empty stomach, especially without your usual cup of coffee.
After placing your order, you wait near the pickup counter.
“One cheese-and-ham sandwich and an Americano,” the server calls, setting the items down. “That’ll be €6.50.”
You fumble to retrieve your purse, but the zipper on your bag refuses to budge.
Tugging at it, you mutter a curse under your breath.
You don’t have time for this. You’re already running late.
“I’ve got it.”
A hand reaches past you and places a €10 bill on the counter.
You look up to see your neighbor, Charlie, smiling warmly.
“Charlie?!” you say, startled. “Thanks so much. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
“No need,” he says with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall.
“I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m really late for work.”
“I can give you a ride,” Charlie offers politely.
“That won’t be necessary.”
The familiar voice comes from behind you.
You turn just as Xavier steps forward, stopping quietly at your side. His expression is calm, though there’s a faint hint of irritation in his eyes.
“Xavier?” you blink in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
When you left earlier, he had still been fast asleep in bed.
“Xavier, good to see you,” Charlie says with a friendly smile.
“Please send me your account details. I’ll transfer the money back to you.”
“You’re in a hurry, right?” he says, turning his attention back to you. “Let’s get you to work first.”
Before you can react, he gently takes your hand and leads you out of the bakery.
As you walk down the street, Xavier speaks again, his voice quiet.
“Next time, wake me up. I can make you breakfast… or bring it to your workplace.”
Zayne and you aren’t really the type to dine at upscale restaurants.
Not because you can’t afford them, but because you both prefer smaller places - the kind that feel cozy, quiet, and warm, as if the meal had been prepared by a home cook.
Lately, though, people have been raving about a newly opened restaurant, and eventually curiosity gets the better of you.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” the waiter asks.
“No, thank you,” you reply. “I’m so full I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“The food was excellent,” Zayne adds. “Please give my compliments to the chef.”
“Of course, sir,” the waiter says with a polite nod.
“And the bill, please.”
“Certainly. I’ll be right back.”
As the waiter walks away, Zayne glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“For someone who said the food looked too pretty to eat, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”
Before you can defend yourself, a voice interrupts you.
“Good evening. I’m sorry to bother you.”
A man who looks vaguely familiar approaches your table.
He turns to you. “Do you remember me? You saved me from a Wanderer attack a few days ago.”
“Ah, yes. I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” you say with a small smile.
“Your partner is very brave,” the man says, glancing toward Zayne. “I’d like to pay for your meal as a token of my appreciation.”
Zayne stills, his gaze following the man’s hand as he places a credit card on the table.
Without a word, Zayne reaches into his wallet and takes out his own card. He hands it to the waiter.
Then he slides the stranger’s card back toward him.
“Your gratitude is appreciated,” Zayne says evenly, “but that won’t be necessary.”
“Her time - and her bill - are already accounted for tonight.”
His tone is polite, yet cool enough to leave little room for argument.
The man flushes slightly, retrieves his card, and quickly mutters an apology and another thank-you before excusing himself.
Once you’re back in the car, Zayne loosens his tie with a single practiced tug as he starts the engine.
After a moment, he speaks.
“Do you usually let strangers take care of you?”
Before you can answer, he reaches over and takes your hand.
“Let me take care of these things,” he says, eyes still on the road. “Always.”
You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face.
Zayne’s jealousy is rare, but you can always tell when it surfaces.
You and Rafayel are attending a high-end charity art auction.
It was originally Thomas’s idea - a way for Rafayel to maintain his public image - but Rafayel immediately rejected the suggestion.
Naturally, Thomas turned to you for help.
You explained that you had never been to an art auction before and were curious about the experience. Besides, since it was a charity event, Rafayel would be contributing to a good cause and going together would undoubtedly make the evening more enjoyable.
Eventually, Rafayel agreed.
Of course, as a famous artist, it didn’t take long for the event organizers to pull him away, eager to introduce him to other guests and collectors.
Leaving you alone.
You stand in front of a sculpture when a bidder approaches.
“You have a good eye,” he says. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” you reply politely.
“You have good taste,” he continues, gesturing toward the sculpture.
“I wouldn’t say that,” you admit with a sheepish smile. “I’m not exactly an art connoisseur.”
“But I can appreciate its beauty.”
“If you were a sculpture, you’d certainly be worthy of praise and admiration.”
You let out an awkward laugh at the compliment.
It’s clear that this person is flirting with you.
A voice carries through the room, interrupting the conversation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The auction is about to commence.”
The bidder gives you a small nod before walking away, and you release a quiet sigh of relief.
You weave your way through the rows of seats until you reach Rafayel. Taking the seat beside him, he offers you a smile and hands you a bidding paddle with the same number as his.
The first item up for auction is the very sculpture you were admiring moments ago.
The bidder from earlier raises his paddle.
“Fifty thousand euros.”
Murmurs and gasps spread through the room as people notice he has bid five times the starting price.
“Please put it under Miss Number 17.”
Number 17?
That’s your number.
Stunned, you look across the room and meet his gaze.
Then you turn back to Rafayel.
His expression is a mixture of surprise and confusion.
“Rafayel, this isn’t what you think…” you begin quickly.
Rafayel narrows his eyes.
“I leave your side for five minutes,” he says dramatically, “and instead of admiring the art, you’re out here collecting admirers?”
He pouts, clearly offended.
Before you can respond, Rafayel raises his paddle with exaggerated confidence.
“Fifty thousand?” he scoffs. “Pluuheese. Put her down for triple the price.”
Your eyes widen, and you completely forget how to speak.
Rafayel simply leans back, giving the bidder a smug, challenging look.
When Sylus invited you to join him at a casino, you were surprised.
Although you had always been curious about such places and had more than once thought about visiting one with your friends someday, your moral compass had always stopped you.
You were firmly against gambling, knowing how easily it can ruin lives.
Sylus explained he was only there to meet with a few business associates.
He made it clear that you were free to decline if the environment made you uncomfortable. However, if you decided to join him, you didn’t have to participate in any of the games. You could simply stay by his side, or use his card if curiosity got the better of you.
Upon arrival, Sylus was escorted to an exclusive private lounge, leaving you alone for the time being.
You wandered through the casino, observing the elegant tables and the players focused on their games. The more you look, the more you realize you don't even know how to play any of the games even if you wanted to participate.
Eventually, you stopped beside a roulette table, standing close enough to watch but far enough away that no one would mistake your curiosity for interest in joining.
Little did you know, you had already drawn the attention of a wealthy, arrogant high-roller.
While Sylus remained occupied with his business associates, the man casually placed a single €10,000 chip onto the betting square closest to you.
He smirks as he says, “Next round is on me, sweetheart.”
Before you could even process what is happening, a leather-gloved hand settles around your waist, pulling you flush against a broad chest.
Sylus towers behind you, his dangerous, crimson gaze locking onto the high-roller.
He doesn’t look angry.
He looks amused - in the most terrifying way possible.
With a lazy flick of his finger, Sylus sends the stranger’s expensive chip right off the table. It rolls across the casino floor like a cheap piece of plastic.
“You’re throwing pocket change at what belongs to me?” Sylus says, his voice deep. “Pitiful.”
The man’s cheek flushes - either from anger, embarrassment, or both, you can’t tell.
“She doesn’t play for pennies,” he adds.
“If you want to gamble your life away so badly, you can bet against me instead.”
The challenge in his voice is unmistakable.
The high-roller mutters something under his breath before storming off
Caleb is the type of person who spoils you relentlessly and pampers you without hesitation.
At first, it made you feel uncomfortable and uneasy. You weren’t used to being treated this way, and the last thing you wanted was for anyone to think you were taking advantage of him.
Over time, however, you slowly grew accustomed to it, realizing that this was simply Caleb’s way of showing you how much he loves and cares about you.
After complimenting one of your friend’s dresses, you ask where she bought it.
She tells you the name of a trendy boutique, and the moment you mention it to Caleb, he immediately insists that the two of you go together.
After spending a considerable amount of time browsing through countless options and trying on outfit after outfit in the fitting rooms, you are finally ready to check out.
Caleb places the clothes you have chosen on the counter before suddenly remembering one more thing he wants to pick up.
He dashes off.
The sales assistant begins scanning your items one by one, folding each piece and placing them neatly into shopping bags.
Then, out of nowhere, a flashy man in an expensive tailored suit approaches the counter.
You notice that he has been glancing your way throughout your shopping trip.
Before you can react, he places a sleek platinum card on the counter.
With a charming smile, he turns toward you.
“Put it all on mine. Beautiful clothes deserve to be worn by a beautiful woman.”
Before the sales assistant can even reach for the card, it suddenly becomes impossible to move.
The card remains pinned firmly against the marble counter, held in place by an invisible force.
Caleb’s Evol.
Caleb steps forward, his entire posture shifting into the disciplined stance of a soldier. His broad shoulders completely block you from the stranger.
He places a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. The pressure of his grip - amplified just slightly by his gravity Evol - enough to make the man’s posture buckle under the sudden weight.
“Look, buddy,” Caleb says, his voice taking on the same commanding tone he uses when addressing the fleet.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re going to pick up your card, take three steps back, and walk away.”
You have been snowed under with work for the past few weeks, and as a result, you’ve completely neglected yourself.
Your hair is a mess of split ends, and your fringe has grown so long you can barely see through it. And don’t even get started on your nails - broken, chipped, and covered in nail polish that is barely hanging on.
When you call your usual salon, they tell you that your stylist is on a two-week vacation and no one else is available to take you.
You try a few other salons, only to be met with the same problem: either their stylists are fully booked, or they can’t offer an appointment that fits your schedule.
Fortunately, you have an amazing boyfriend.
“I called your workplace to let them know you’re taking tomorrow off. Non-negotiable,” Valko tells you the moment you get home.
“I’ve booked you in for a hair appointment, a manicure, and a pedicure,” he adds.
“At least, I think that’s what those services are called.”
“I’ll drive you there tomorrow and pick you up when you’re done. Just call me.”
You immediately reward him with kisses all over his face, scratching affectionately behind his wolf ears.
The salon Valko takes you to the next day looks like the kind of place celebrities and the wives of wealthy businessmen frequent.
Several hours later - a much longer stretch of pampering than you have ever spent in a salon before - you finally emerge feeling presentable again.
The staff who took care of you were wonderful: friendly, attentive, and highly professional.
You make a mental note to leave a five-star review and a generous tip as you head toward the checkout counter.
No doubt this place is expensive, and the services you had done would probably cost an entire month’s salary, but Valko had assured you that he would cover everything.
Suddenly, a wealthy, slick businessman steps up to the counter beside you, drops a high-tier membership card, and flashes you a smarmy grin.
“Put the lady's bill on my VIP tab. A gorgeous face like yours shouldn't have to worry about the price of upkeep.”
Just then, a towering 6'2" muscular frame steps into the man’s personal space.
A low, rumbling growl vibrates from his chest, raising the hairs on the back of everyone's neck.
Valko’s stance is one of danger and predatory stillness.
His golden eyes flare with an intense, territorial heat.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“Upkeep? Her scent is already marked on my ledger. “I don’t let anyone else pay for the woman I intend to take care of for the rest of my life.”
Tag list : @cordidy @thehyperfixationgirly @pjselee
If you enjoyed this story, feel free to check out my other Love and Deepspace fanfiction.
Helping someone moving in is hard — moving all the boxes with heavy stuff, collect furniture and do the whole renovation of the new apartment. Luckily or unluckily, Xavier had been that person to help you move in.
After another hour of, what it seemed to be endless, work, both of you fell onto the sofa with tired sigh that escaped from your lips. The young man rested his head on your shoulder while your gaze wandered across somewhat presentable room. The closet was now built and most of clothes were already hung.
Your hand found Xavier's head to scratch it gently in attempt to sooze the tiredness that must've gotten into him.
He could only move closer with quiet hum.
"Xav?"
"Hm?"
Your eyes fall on his crown as you pursed your lips. Quiet yet certain "thank you" left your lips.
In response Xavier only mumbled something incoherent as his cold hand now rested on your thigh, toying with the pajama pants absent mindedly (was it, though?)
Resting this close to you Xavier could feel your perfume hitting his nostrils, sudden possessiveness appearing in his exhausted mind. His hand got higher as his nose nuzzled in your neck. Soft pecks started to tickle your skin, making you smile weakly against it.
"I'm tired, Xav," you chuckle sheepishly, yet do nothing against his growing with neediness kisses. He only hums as his lips trail to your collarbone, licking a little stripe there, making you let out quiet whine.
Xavier could feel your body shudder. His head raised to meet your gaze — those beautiful blue eyes were luring you in, especially that pout on his lips.
Rolling your eyes with no poison in the gesture, you slowly settled on his lap, steadying yourself by holding his shoulders. Sitting so close to him, you could feel emanating warmth and that drunk gaze. And those red as tomato ears.
His chest heavied with breaths just a tiny bit (perhaps, Xavier was trying to hide it). However, it was impossible — you knew him as well as he knew you. Starting from personality to little gestures other might not notice.
Leaning a tiny bit closer, your gaze stayed there. On his parted lips (as if he was ready for the kiss), on his needy gaze (as if he could die without it), on his daze drunk gaze.
Your hand landed on his jaw, making him inhale sharply. The reaction itself made you let out quiet chuckle — that made Xavier pout.
Smudging that pursed expression with your thumb, you glared into his eyes before leaning in. Your hands cupped his cheeks as your mouth moved against him.
Quiet groan vibrated in his throat as he dove in with the same enthusiasm. Almost fighting for control.
His trembling hands found your waist, settling on your back. Toying with the pajama shirt, the large hands were going up and down in soothing motion.
When his tongue slipped past your lips, you couldn't help but moan loudly, eliciting soft groan from his lips. Deepening the kiss even more, he sucked your lower lip and pushed his tongue into your mouth again.
Despite growing tired from all the renovations, you found yourself shifting your hips against his obvious bulge.
In response his icy hands slipped past your shirt, pulling you closer. His hands roamed from your back to your hips, to your chest — to toy with hardened nipples. His thumbs pressed into the bud, making you jostle slightly from the pressure.
Glarind down at you, so lost in the sensations, his hands gripped your breast with one hand, while other returned possessively to the lower back.
Rocking your hips against him, you moaned into the kiss again, not wanting the moment to stop at all. He glanced at you again — your tightly closed eyes, your hand fisting his hair while other clutched his shirt. That made him feel even more possessive and turned on. To Xavier knowing he was making you feel like this was the most biggest reward for his ego.
"Aren't you tired?" you rasped between kisses.
"No. You?" he asks carefully, checking in with your energy level.
You shake your head and lean closer to lick a stripe from his jaw to his ear, making him buckle his hips and hiss quietly.
Moving in is hard. Moving all stuff from one place to another, searching for furniture, checking reviews on that said furniture. And since they chose that sofa so carefully, perhaps, it's time to make a force test on it? :)
A/N: I rarely, and I mean, RARELY, write smut (easier to say never). I used to write suggestive stuff but I stopped a long time ago to focus on some deep stories. Unfortunately right now my brain is a mush and I can't focus on writing world enough (due to stress of real world), so... for a while I had been stepping away from writing because of how genuinely emotionally hard my fics are for me. I mean, they're psychologically focused for a reason, right? I do wish I could return to them any time soon, I love writing my deep stories. I want to be known for them, not for smut (even though smut sells yada yada). I love my authentic stories and my writer's vision, and I wish I had energy to fulfill all of that! I miss my 3-5k words fics about depression or societal problems... But lately... all I can think is Xavier. And making out with him... god, I need him. Like... I really do.
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