satoru loves listening to you, especially when your lips are against his. . .
the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.
“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”
“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”
“i definitely didn’t.”
“no? must’ve imagined it.”
you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.
“you interrupted me again,” you say.
“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”
another kiss.
“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”
“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.
“i doubt it, you big back.”
“you’re so mean to me.”
you laugh, the sound breaking into another kiss because satoru seems physically incapable of letting more than a few seconds pass without stealing one.
“kissing me until i forget what i was saying?”
“…is it working?” he muses.
you pause. “…maybe.”
“i know you‘re enjoying yourself,” he says softly, brushing his lips over yours again. “you haven‘t pulled away yet.”
“seems like i’ve made questionable life choices.”
he gasps dramatically, though his smile gives him away.
“oh? dating me is questionable?”
“sometimes.”
another kiss.
“when you leave your socks everywhere.”
mwah.
“when you eat all my snacks.”
mwah.
“when you—”
he kisses you longer that time, lingering just enough that you forget where your complaint is going.
“…see?” he murmurs.
“you are so annoying.”
“but?”
“but…” you smile. “you’re very cute.”
his grin is immediate, and he kisses the corner of your mouth
“what do you want for dinner?” you ask.
“hmm…” he pretends to think hard, his forehead resting against yours. “you.”
“oh my god,” you groan. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”
“maybe.” he grins into the next kiss.
“you should be embarrassed.”
“can’t hear your mean remarks when you’re this close.”
your lips meet in soft, absent-minded kisses between tiny conversations about nothing at all. whether the laundry is finished, whether the weather looks nice tomorrow, or how his teaching is going.
“toru—” kiss. “—how am I supposed to—” another kiss. “—focus?”
“why’d you need to?” his smile softens into something quieter, gentler than his usual teasing grin.
Imagine writing goodbye letters for the LIs in journal, but then the devs dont approve it so that the LIs wont see it. Then you delete the game, and they keep on waiting and waiting and wonder why you're leaving them again.
You walk carelessly to your usual spot, the rock on the coast, with a defeated expression. Your hand tries its best to prevent your hair from getting in your face from the unforgiving wind. But nothing has had mercy for you anyways. So what’s new?
You sit there watching the waves crashing onto the rock as the setting sun continues its way to another side of the earth, and the darkness starts to wrap around the sky. Yet, none of those things seem to bother you since you come here to find solace. And do you find it?
Not that you know, but you still remain there.
On that spot.
Waiting…for what exactly?
You still don’t have the answer to that.
Perhaps, for your legs to get up and leave since it’s getting dark or for something to lessen this heavy heart of yours.
Your eyes dart to one side before they widen at what you’re seeing, but you stay quiet and quickly flick your eyes from the sight.
A Lemurian. An actual Lemurian. In the flesh.
You try your best not to stare. Blame your curiosity because it will kill you in one way or another as you eye the creature again.
You lock eyes with him(?).
He’s peeking from under the rock thinking he’s slick, but those glowing blue eyes are shining so bright. You wanna laugh, really. You should leave; you mentally tell yourself as you move the opposite way from the purple haired creature, yet he seems to move slowly your way as well as the sound of the water ripples gently through his movement.
You stop, and so does he.
Is he also scared?
Well…whether you die or not, you’ll find out sooner or later. It’s not like you really wanna live after all. So you do what the definition of stupid is, you turn around to face the Lemurian. He quickly retreats down to hide under the rock.
“Have you been watching me?” Your voice comes out more confident than you thought. You swallow your saliva as you cross your arms not sure if he understands your language. You do know some info about Lemurian that they have their own language.
He rises up slowly from behind the rock, and oh beautiful he absofuckingluetly is. No! Focus!
“No, I haven't." He answers as he mirrors your action as he looks away pouting.
Oh, so he does understand human language, and he’s pouting? Because you caught him? Tsk. you scoff internally.
He then swims closer which surprises you as you back off hastily nearly falling down, but the unfortunate doesn’t happen. “Wha-what do you want?” you ask nervously as your eyes continue to take in his beauty. “To look at you.” He said easily as he now eyes you intensely.
You notice that his eyes don’t glow anymore, and they shift into two colors of blue and pink. Gorgeous. “Is this your first time seeing a human?” you ask with a confused expression as your shoulders slump back just a bit.
“No. I have seen a lot of them, but didn’t bother to approach." He tilts his head at you before putting his elbow on the rock and rests his chin atop his palm scanning you from head to toe. “I could ask the same about you. Is this your first time seeing a Lemurian?” His expression is impatient as he waits for your answer.
“Yes? And?” You eye him suspiciously before asking him another question. “And why are you approaching me?” “Because.” He says as he changes position to float on the water as if he knows you’re watching. You are. The corner of his lips twitch up a little, and you miss it.
You don't bother to pry more as you simply watch him with gentle focus, and he continues to show off his tail as he leaps into the water before coming back to the surface. “Impressive? I know.” His smirk widens as he looks at you. You subtly roll your eyes, but you also don’t deny him as you find yourself smiling a little at him.
You remember feeling so lost as you come here, and this creature somehow makes you smile by being smug.
But you really have to go now since the sky has become even darker. So, you turn away from him and speed walk back. He’s a little taken aback as he calls out “hey!” then you turn back to face him and mouth him “thank you” as you start running back.
You remember how his confused face turns to sadness before the defeated accepting.
“I haven’t got your name though…” He mutters to himself in his mother tongue before swimming back down into the sea wishing that you’ll come back again. Hopefully, tomorrow.
The next day
You come to the spot earlier than yesterday, and he’s already there? Was he waiting…for you?
“Oh!” you both say at the same time, and that somehow breaks some ice of awkwardness as you smile a little at him.
You exchange names. You tell him yours. “Rafayel.” He says with glint in his eyes as if he’s waiting for this moment.
The meet up continues for who knows how long from the way you were so scared to be near him but now you’re soaking your legs in the water as he swims nearby. You talk until he tells you that he’s the future sea god of Lemuria. You believe him. He also tells you about his responsibility that he’ll take a devoted follower who will be his bride in the future, and he’ll also have a bond with her. The human bride has also been decided for him.
Oh.
You sincerely smile at him before asking him. “When will it be? Your wedding.”
Wedding? As if but he doesn’t correct you. “Not long from now.”
“Congratulations.” You say calmly, yet he’s glaring at you?
“Don’t you look too happy sending me away?” his tail suddenly wraps around your ankles as he comes up to sit near you. His arms trap you on both of your sides, and his face leans towards yours before then dropping his forehead on your shoulder.
“I don’t want it.” he sounds so…pained. “Why?” You ask softly as he then turns his face into your neck as if to scent you. “I want you.” He mumbles into your neck as his lips caress your neck. “Rafayel…” You pull him away from your neck to carefully look at him, and he’s crying? Tears roll down his face turn into pearls as his glassy eyes wait for you to say something.
His impatience makes him pull you tightly into his arms. “Say something, will you?” he pleads with wobbly lips as the sound of pearls falling down continues. “Tell me not to go.” His desperation makes way into your ear. You hug him back and he feels a wave of some relief. “Rafayel, I—this is—are you sure? What if you regret?” He pulls back and sees your worried expression as he cups your face with oh so much reverence.
“I’ll never regret you.” He says with no doubt at all. “Then I don’t want you to go.” You take your very chance though you were so ready to let him go earlier because you thought he feels nothing for you all this time.
“I love you.” You both say at the same time again.
He kisses you as deep as his sea runs and seals it with a red fish glow on his chest.
10.Rafayel kisses every stretch mark, scar, mole and freckle as he undresses you.
Check out the rest of my Horny thoughts list here. 🔞MDNI🔞
"Don't move, let me look at you."
Rafayel treats impatience like a sin when it comes to you, preferring to draw out the tension. His eyes move over you first, like he's committing every inch to memory, like you might dissolve if he looks away too soon.
He leans down, his breath warm against your skin as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the cluster of freckles dusting the bridge of your nose. You flutter your eyes shut, but his lips are already moving, tracking a faint mole near your temple, then another just beside the corner of your eye. Each press of his mouth is a quiet worship. When his lips graze the tiny mole just above your upper lip, his breath hitches, his thumb smoothing over your jawline to hold you still as he drinks in your sigh.
"You have no idea," he says quietly, against your mouth but not kissing it. Not yet.
He moves to your throat, finding a small scar there you'd forgotten you had. His lips rest on it for a long moment. Still. Like a hand pressed to something precious.
"Raf—"
"I said don't move."
His hands find the collar of your shirt. The buttons give way one at a time, he's not slow about it now, not the way he was before, and he slips the fabric down your arms and turns you, just slightly, so your back is to him.
Fingers trace your spine first, then they catch on the scars before he starts kissing them, his mouth hot against each one. You feel him exhale against your skin between them, like he keeps forgetting to breathe.
His hands slide back around to your front and ease the shirt the rest of the way off. The fabric pools at your feet. A beat of stillness, and then he's in front of you, looking.
When his eyes move to your collarbones he traces a scar with a single finger, following the line of it before he dips his head and presses his mouth there in a row of kisses finding every faint scar along the way. The heat of his lips lingers on your skin after he moves on and you feel it spreading.
A bit lower he finds the mole beside your nipple. He leans in close, closer, until you can feel the warmth of his mouth before he even touches you. Then his lips brush it, just barely, and he inhales. The kiss he presses there is firm and wet, your body responds before you can think about it, a soft gasp catching in your throat.
He makes a low sound against your skin.
His thumb skims over your nipple and then he pulls back, moving to the mole on your sternum. He kisses it once. Then rests his forehead against your chest, right over your heart, and stays there. One breath. Two. Like this is the part he needed most.
"You're so beautiful." His voice is barely sound. His lips are still against your skin when he says it. "Every single part of you."
Your breath leaves you all at once when he drops to his knees. His eyes find yours from below and stay there as his hands move to your pants. The button gives. He slides the fabric down your hips slowly, watching as he goes, and you step out of them.
The stretch marks catch his attention first, silver traces curving over your stomach and around the fullness of your ass. His expression doesn't flicker. He reaches out and touches them first with his fingertips, barely there, following the lines like he's reading something. Then he kisses them.
Slowly.
His mouth moves across your stomach, tongue tracing the soft marks, and then his hands cup your ass as he moves there too, open kisses pressed into the curves until your legs go unsteady and your fingers find his hair.
He keeps going.
Down your thighs, his hands sliding ahead of his mouth. The scars there, the ones from fights you'd rather not think about, get the same treatment. Each one. No hesitation, no pause, just his lips moving from one to the next like it's the most natural thing in the world.
The long one, high on your inner thigh, makes him stop.
Hands wrap around the backs of your knees. Your legs part slightly and then he just rests his cheek against your skin, looking up at you. Heavy lidded. Patient in a way that makes your breath go thin.
Then his lips find the base of the scar and drag upward.
Deliberate. His tongue follows the full length of it and your thighs tremble, fingers pulling at his hair without meaning to.
Finally his hands slide up to the waistband of your panties, thumbs hooking into the elastic, eyes on yours again like asking for permission. He pulls them down slowly until they're gone and there's nothing left between you and the way he's looking at you.
He glances down.
The scar across your lower stomach, he presses his mouth to it, hands moving to grip your hips like he's anchoring you both.
Then he pulls back just enough to look up at you.
"I read somewhere," he murmurs, lips still close to your skin "that moles mark the places a past life lover kissed you most."
His eyes drop to your pussy.
He looks back up at you. "I think he was a very smart man."
His hands slide to the inside of your thighs and parts them gently, his grip easy but certain, and the heat of his breath reaches you.
One more second of his eyes on yours.
Then he leans in, and his lips find the tiny mole on your clit. The sound you make doesn't feel like yours. Your knees buckle and his hands are already there, holding you up, holding you open, holding you exactly where he wants you, like he knew, like he's always known, like some version of him has been finding his way back to this exact place for longer than either of you have been alive.
zayne loves being your certified walking a/c whenever summer rolls around. You were already regularly affectionate with him, but now that the heat had fully settled in, you’d started clinging to him without even thinking about it.
Wherever he moves, you move.
Right now, you’re curled up against his side on the couch, one arm loosely looped around his while he reads through a stack of medical files. The steady rustle of paper and the faint scent of antiseptic from earlier in his shift should’ve been enough to keep him focused—but you’ve basically turned yourself into a very warm, very determined attachment.
Zayne doesn’t seem to mind.
At least, not until he shifts to stand.
“I need to grab something, I'll be back in a second.” he says quietly, already setting the files aside. The second his weight leaves the couch, you immediately latch onto his arm.
“Nooo.”
You tug again, firmer this time, face pressed into his sleeve like you’re trying to physically anchor him in place. Zayne glances down at you, a small smile playing on his lips as amusement dances in his eyes.
“…You won’t melt in the few minutes I’ll be away,” he says, voice calm, almost teasing.
You look up at him with full seriousness. “It's worse. I’ll boil.”
That earns a quiet exhale of amusement from him, the corner of his mouth lifting as he studies you like you’re a particularly dramatic patient. “Mm,” he murmurs. “Then I suppose I’ll have to properly diagnose you.”
You blink. “Diagnose me with what?”
Zayne shifts his grip under your arms before you can protest further, lifting you with effortless ease against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Acute separation sensitivity,” he says simply. Your protest dies immediately into a small, satisfied noise as he adjusts you against him, one arm securely around your back while the other gathers what he needs from the nearby table.
“Is that even real?” you mumble, already relaxing again.
“No,” he replies softly. “But your symptoms are consistent.”
You huff a laugh, looping your arms properly around his shoulders as he starts walking. Your lashes quickly flutter shut as you listen to the steady sound of his heartbeat beneath his shirt, the coolness around him easing the heat that had been clinging to your skin all afternoon.
It’s unfair, really.
How easy it is to melt like this in his arms.
The way his steps stay steady even while carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. The way the faint chill of his evol lingers just enough to keep you comfortable without ever becoming too much. The way his presence alone feels like relief.
You shift slightly, tucking your face closer into his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“Then you’d agree with twenty-four hour care?” you murmur sleepily, voice muffled as you nuzzle into him. “Since my condition is so severe.”
There’s a pause.
“…Severe, hm?”
You nod against him, completely unbothered, already half-drifting.
His hold tightens just slightly, instinctive and careful as he adjusts you more securely against his chest. When he speaks again, his voice is sweeter than before. “I suppose I wouldn’t have much of a choice,” he says, a faint smile in his tone.
“If it’s that serious.” Warmth blooms in your chest at that, even through the cool air around him. You relax fully then, letting your weight settle completely into him, your breathing slowing as the rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you further under.
“…Good,” you mumble, eyes finally slipping shut for good this time. “Because I like you as my doctor.”
That earns a low chuckle from him.
And a moment later, you feel it—his lips pressing gently to your cheek, lingering just long enough to make your heart stir even as sleep pulls at you.
“I know,” he murmurs. “And I’m afraid I’m already committed to your case.”
♡ princessxmin please do not alter, copy or translate my work !
Being married to Xavier feels soft in a way that sneaks up on you.
At first, people might think he is distant because of how calm and sleepy he seems sometimes, but loving Xavier means discovering how deeply attentive he truly is.
He loves quietly and once you become his wife, you realise something very quickly.
Xavier is absolutely devoted to you.
He Becomes Even More Attached After Marriage
Xavier already likes being near you
Marriage somehow makes it worse (or better)
Now he has an actual excuse.
“You are my wife. Of course I am here.”
Follows you around the house
Sits close whenever possible
Finds reasons to touch you casually
He just likes being with you.
He Is Extremely Affectionate in Private
This man is clingy when no one else is around.
Not in an overwhelming way.
But in ways such as...
resting against you
wrapping an arm around your waist
burying his face into your shoulder when tired
pulling you into his lap without warning
Physical affection becomes second nature to him.
He Sleeps Better Beside You
Xavier is someone who carries exhaustion deeply.
But beside you? He rests easier.
Sleeps closer than expected
Subconsciously searches for you in his sleep
Likes holding you or your hand under the blankets
Sometimes you wake up and find him wrapped around you like he moved there unconsciously.
Husband Xavier Is Surprisingly Domestic
He likes peaceful routines with you.
Especially...
grocery shopping together
lazy mornings
cooking (he mostly watches you)
folding laundry while talking quietly
slow dancing in the living room
He enjoys ordinary life because it is with you.
He Loves Calling You “My Wife”
Dangerously loves it.
You notice he says it whenever possible.
“My wife likes this one.”
“My wife is waiting for me.”
“I should ask my wife first.”
Every single time, there is this tiny softness in his expression.
Like he still cannot believe he gets to say it.
And he loves it just as much if not more when you call him husband.
He Is Protective
Xavier is gentle.
Until something threatens you.
Then suddenly he becomes...
more alert
sharper
impossible to move away from your side
He never raises his voice unnecessarily.
But the atmosphere around him changes instantly.
He Memorises Tiny Things
Not just important things.
Tiny things...
your favourite side of the bed
which foods you steal from his plate
what expression means you are upset even when smiling
the exact tone your voice takes when tired
He notices constantly.
Even when he seems half asleep.
Lazy Days With Him Are Dangerous
Because neither of you leave the bed.
At all.
You planned to be productive.
Instead...
tangled blankets
sleepy kisses
soft conversation
him pulling you back every time you try to get up
“Stay a little longer.”
And honestly?
You always do.
He Gets Jealous
Xavier jealousy is subtle but emotional.
But you know immediately.
He becomes...
More clingy afterward
Wants your attention more
Holds your hand tighter
Watches people carefully
His tone gets harsh. Just not with you.
And if someone flirts with you too openly?
He slides beside you and says something devastatingly simple like:
“She is married.”
Very calm. Very effective.
He Loves Taking Care of You
Especially when you are tired or sick.
He becomes incredibly attentive...
brings water
makes food
checks your temperature
stays close without hovering too much
And if you try to insist you are fine?
“You do not have to pretend with me.”
That line destroys you every time.
Xavier Is Softest at Night
Late nights with him feel intimate in a different way.
He gets quieter.
More honest.
Sometimes you catch him just looking at you.
Not saying anything.
Just… appreciating that you are there.
When you ask what he is thinking about, he usually answers,
“You.”
Like it is obvious, because to him, it is.
Arguments With Husband Xavier
He hates hurting you. Truly hates it.
So arguments with him are...
quiet
emotional
honest
If he realises he upset you unintentionally, you can visibly see the guilt settle in.
He always wants to fix things.
Always.
He Is Secretly Very Romantic
Not in a flashy way.
But deeply heartfelt.
Things like...
stargazing dates
sleepy forehead kisses
keeping things you gave him
remembering random comments from months ago
getting you flowers
His love feels gentle and enduring.
Underneath Everything…
Xavier loves like someone terrified of losing time.
So he cherishes...
ordinary moments
closeness
warmth
your presence beside him
Marriage with him feels less like dramatic passion and more like,
