endorphins-assembly-line

[endorphins-assembly-line]

caught in time, so far away

you were longing for someone to see you, but you weren’t expecting to catch the attention of a stranger who didn't seem to fit in anywhere himself...

content: alien xavier x human reader, afab reader, summer vacation au, mild non graphic smut, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a nosebleed, major character death

word count: 8k

playlist: midnight city by m83, spark by winter (aespa), e.t by katy perry, shakes by luke hemmings, caught in time so far away by you’ll never get to heaven

Another glass of gin and tonic is shoved into your hand, waiting to join the two others down the kitchen sink when no one is looking. Not like anyone would pay attention anyways. A few of your friends are in the living room belting out the soundtrack to High School Musical 2, the others are playing a drunken game of volleyball in the pool - and here you are tucked away on one of the loungers, your eyes fixed on that strange guy. He stands on the balcony of his room at the chalet, his unnaturally light hair is being tousled by the wind and his striking blue eyes are glued to the starry night sky. It’s as though he's completely oblivious to the chaos around him; so enamored with the heavens above us that he barely registers you staring up at him. Emphasis on barely.

This has been the trajectory of your entire Summer vacation so far, not that you’re blaming anyone but yourself. A major part of you didn’t want to come on this road trip in the first place. You’d just graduated after four debilitating years of university and the last thing you wanted to do for the Summer was spend three weeks surrounded by drunk and amorous twenty-somethings stuck in a much too expensive villa. But alas, some may call you a pushover and you cannot deny it. Tara is the closest thing you have to a best friend and when she insisted you come along, you couldn’t say no. Perhaps it satisfied your need to belong, to feel included and seen. However, anyone like you - a wallflower in every sense - would know you had made a grave mistake.

A week into the trip and the most excitement you get is from looking up from your permanent spot on the veranda every night and seeing that guy; studying him, but never having the courage to go up to him. He's a friend of Tara's boyfriend - who had invited a whole band of rowdy men to join you all at the chalet - and seemingly the only other person not looking to get hammered every night. He usually keeps to himself, sharing awkward smiles and small talk with anyone who bothered to try. A few of your girl friends tried chatting him up but he always seemed blank and oblivious to anyone’s advances. Tara's boyfriend insisted his friend - Xavier you recall his name is - is just shy, but it's pretty easy to mistake his demeanour for being rude. That’s one of the reasons you refuse to approach him; someone like you would rather fall off the face of the earth before you get embarrassed by some man. The other reason is simple; you may be shyer than Xavier claims to be.

You watch the unruly volleyball match reach its dramatic climax for a moment before looking back up at the balcony. Your stomach does a somersault when you see Xavier staring right back at you, those cold blue eyes appearing otherworldly. His expression is blank, as always, and you can’t decide whether he's angry or confused or both. You can’t even gauge how long you stare back at him before you eventually drop your gaze back down to the glass in your hand. Looking for a distraction, you take a big gulp of the drink and grimace. The alcohol burns through you, contrasting with the cold evening wind nipping at your skin - clearly more gin than tonic. You lift your head up adventurously and find Xavier still staring down at you, but this time he seems… amused? A small smile plays on his pale pink lips, not quite reaching his eyes as he eventually turns his attention back to the stars.

You can’t seem to look away, stuck to his presence like a moth to a fly, until you notice him touch his nose carefully. He inspects his long, slender fingers for a moment before dropping to the floor in a heap. You jump to your feet in shock, looking around to see if anyone else noticed him collapse, but your surroundings remain completely unchanged. You feel your heart caught in your throat as you haul yourself into the villa and bustle up the stairs. The music is muffled in your ears, as though you’re underwater. Your body feels extremely hot, whether from the sudden rush of alcohol or panic, you’re not too sure. You swing the bedroom door open to find the lanky man still very much unconscious, his body slumped against the balcony railing and a drying streak of crimson blood coming out of his nose. You squat down and attempt to get him into a seated position, your heart hammering against your ribcage like an enraged beast. You’ve never been one to act well under pressure so poor Xavier has to deal with a series of scared pats to his face and a soft mantra of Wake Up, Wake Up before he finally comes to. His eyes eventually flutter open, lazy but still sharp as he takes in your face. Looking at them up close, you feel as though you can see the entire universe in them. A sky full of stars.

The moment is cut short when you hear a pair of unsteady footsteps approaching the room followed by Tara's voice.

“Y/n? You in here?”

You stand up abruptly and rush to meet her in the doorway. Hopefully even in her tipsy state, she’ll be able to be of some assistance to Xavier.

“Tara! Come in, Xavier just fainted!” You exclaim in your panicked state, watching as she strolls in and steadies herself against the wall.

“Xavier? What happened?” She slurs, her eyes scanning over the bedroom.

“He’s right h-”

You cut your own words off as you turn around and see that Xavier isn’t on the balcony where you had just left him. In fact, he's not anywhere in the bedroom.

“Nice try, I’m not that drunk.” Tara giggles before sauntering back downstairs, leaving you in a state of confusion.

You stand there for a moment in complete disbelief. You’re definitely not drunk enough to be hallucinating so where on earth did this boy disappear to? The answer to your silent question comes in the form of a small grunt behind the en suite bathroom door. You stay quiet, slowly hovering closer to the door. More shuffling, then a small, almost inaudible curse under his breath. I reach my hand out and carefully knock three times. There’s a defeaning silence that follows, as though he were holding his breath, before he knocks three times in return. You almost laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.

“Xavier?” You say gently, his name so foreign on your lips.

He doesn’t respond so you take it upon yourself to just open the door, revealing his tall, imposing figure backed up against the basin. The sharpness in his eyes is completely gone. Instead, he looks like a white short haired cat caught in the middle of something they aren’t supposed to be doing. He zeroes in on me, startled, a soggy clump of toilet paper stuffed in his nose. His entire face and hair is damp as if he shoved his head right under the faucet.

He looks cute, and in any other case you would’ve fixated on that fact. But now, in this context, you need more answers than anything.

“Are you alright?” You ask without really thinking much of it. It seems like the appropriate thing to say after the man was just unconscious a few minutes ago.

“I’m fine,” Xavier responds in a hoarse but soothing voice, standing up to his full height, “you’re Y/n right?”

You’re a bit taken aback that he even remembered your name after the initial round of mandatory introductions several days ago. It’s not like you ever spoke to him, and you didn’t exactly consider yourself the kind of person that’s worth remembering.

“Yeah, I’m Y/n,” you reply awkwardly, watching him discard the tissue from his nose and dry his face with the hand towel hanging next to the sink, “do you um… black out like that often?”

You flinch as he lets out a small, amused laugh. It’s so subtle, almost under his breath, but you don’t miss it.

“I guess you could say that,” he explains, turning around to face you, “it’s happened a few times lately but I usually recover fine.”

“You recover fine? If it happens more than once, that doesn’t mean you’ve recovered at all,” you look at him in horror, your shyness replaced with bewilderment, “don’t you think you should see a doctor about this?”

“I don’t think a doctor will be of any assistance,” Xavier chuckles again, brushing past you as he exits the bathroom, “I’m fine really, you can go back down to the party.”

You study him for a moment as he strolls to the bed in the middle of the room, taking a seat on the edge. His legs are lazily spread apart and he leans back on his palms, watching you right back as you exit the bathroom after him. He doesn’t look as intimidating up close. His features are soft, a small nose and mouth overshadowed by those crystal blue eyes. Something about him draws you in that your feet refuse to carry you back to the safety of your lounger on the deck.

“Why did you hide yourself in the bathroom?” You ask curiously, slowly pacing around the room. His eyes follow your every move and it makes your muscles tense.

“I wasn’t hiding.” He lies calmly, making you shake your head.

“Yes you were.” You argued stubbornly.

“Fine I… I didn’t want anyone else to worry about me,” he responds convincingly, “they’re all having fun, I don’t want to bother them with nothing.”

“Having a nosebleed and passing out isn’t nothing.” You mumble, holding back the eye roll.

“Thanks,” he says, a hint of amusement still laced in his tone, “it’s nice that someone came to check on me.”

“It’s no problem.” You answer automatically, even though the whole situation is leaving you feeling a bit embarrassed.

There’s a long pause between the two of you. Complete silence save for the muffled music coming from downstairs and loud shrieks and chatter from our friends.

“Do you want to have a drink?” He asks suddenly, breaking the awkward tension.

“Huh?” You respond before mentally face palming.

He stands up, his demeanour calm and comforting. “Do you want to have a drink? With me?”

“Um… yeah sure.” You nod, timidly following him out of the room and padding down the stairs.

The music grows louder as you approach the messy kitchen. The pool has been abandoned and most of your friends have turned the living room into a makeshift dance floor.

“What’s your drink of choice?” Xavier asks politely, standing at the island and inspecting through the many bottles scattered around the marble countertop.

“What’s yours?” You ask in return, sitting up on one of the barstools, “I like anything that tastes nice.”

“I’ve never come across alcohol that tastes nice,” he smiles, shaking his head as he opts for pouring two glasses of whiskey and lemonade, “I don’t really have a preference, meaning I don’t like anything.”

“That’s a good answer,” you find yourself laughing softly, “I don’t like the feeling of being drunk or tipsy.”

“You don’t like not being in control? Or you’re scared you might embarrass yourself?” Xavier peers at you through his lashes, sliding a glass across the counter to you.

“A bit of both,” you hum thoughtfully, “and why don’t you like it?”

“If I drink too much I might just die.”

He says it so nonchalantly that you barely register anything. You sip the whiskey before frowning at him.

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?”

“It’s not dramatic, it’s the truth,” he shrugs, “if I have too much to drink, I might collapse like earlier but never wake up.”

“You’re so morbid.” You laugh gently.

“Apologies, I don’t know how to act around pretty girls.”

You almost choke on your drink as you catch sight of his playful smirk. You can’t even believe that this is the same guy that was so blank and standoffish towards everyone else in the house. It makes you a bit self conscious that you’re even able to have a conversation with him that’s lasting more than ten minutes. And for him to call you pretty? He must be drunk - which explains why he passed out and why he’s being so bold. Even if you didn’t witness him drink anything else tonight, it’s what you have to tell yourself. For your own sanity.

“I hate whiskey.” You say shyly, trying to change the topic.

“Yeah me too.” He agrees as you clink your glasses together.

—

Three glasses of whiskey put you to bed earlier than you had hoped. Your only triumph last night was knowing Xavier fell asleep much faster than you, albeit during your very interesting dissertation on the Madagascar trilogy. Another thing of note; you fell asleep in his bed and that is a huge deal for someone who shudders at the mere thought of sitting next to a strange man.

But Xavier is different, in a good and bad way. Good because he’s clearly about to make this vacation a lot more bearable. It’s comforting to have at least one person on the same page as you and not have to completely dissociate on your own. Bad because he’s too comfortable. Despite his detached personality overall, you feel so at peace talking to him, as if you’d been good friends for a long time.

Like right now - if on any other occasion you had woken up in an unfamiliar bed with a blonde haired blue eyed man just watching you as you slept, you would be terrified. You’d probably scream and bolt out of his bed before he could explain himself. But as the sun peeks through the blinds and your face scrunches in a tired frown, your eyes flutter open and your first reaction is to smile at him.

“Good morning.” Xavier says groggily, despite looking like he’s been awake for a while. His morning voice is even more crisp and quiet, if that’s even possible.

“Good morning,” you reply gently, already feeling a pounding headache come over you, “sorry I just invaded your space, I don’t usually do that.”

“That’s alright,” he huffs out a small laugh, sitting up against the pillows, “I enjoyed your company last night.”

“I did too,” you respond genuinely before you find yourself just rambling on without thinking, “if i’m being honest I didn’t really want to come on this vacation you know? It’s awkward being around so many people but still feeling isolated.”

“I know, you said that last night.” Xavier gives you a playful smirk.

“I did?”

“Yes, along with something about how I should never call you pretty again because you’ll start planning our wedding.” Xavier drones on so monotonously as if he’s reciting a grade school speech and your cheeks instantly grow warm.

“I was joking of course,” you laugh awkwardly, sitting up straight and letting the blanket pool around your waist, “I’m staying away from whiskey for the rest of this trip.”

“So it’s true then, that you avoid letting loose, partying, drinking because you’re scared of how people will perceive you,” Xavier yawns as though he isn’t just reading you like an open book, “now you’re feeling bad about last night because you didn’t have full control of how you acted.”

“Your point is?” Your voice is small and your eyes refuse to meet his. It’s way too early for a therapy session with a guy you just officially met the night prior.

“For the remainder of this trip, if we’re going to be each other's company…” Xavier scoots a bit closer, “I don’t want you to worry about what I think of you, and likewise I want to be genuine with you.”

“You’re saying this like it’s some kind of pact.” You lift your head finally to look at him, his expression completely unreadable.

“I don’t know you that well, but I see a lot of myself in you,” Xavier gnaws on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before sighing, “my whole life, I’ve felt too awkward or afraid to be my authentic self, even in crowds of people who know me, people who are meant to be my friends, I’ve never let myself out of hiding.”

“So what you’re saying is… for this vacation we should just let loose for once?” You tilt your head curiously.

“I’m not asking you to take your clothes off and start dancing on tables,” Xavier chuckles in amusement, “but I think for the next two weeks we can just be our genuine selves, no judgement.”

“So I won’t judge you and you won’t judge me?” You unconsciously smile at the somewhat childish agreement.

“Promise?” Xavier holds out a graceful pinky finger at you.

“Promise.” You agree, locking your pinky with his.

“Alright, starting now, tell me something you’re too embarrassed to tell everyone else.” Xavier stares at you intently and suddenly you feel under pressure for an interesting fact from your otherwise mundane existence.

“Um… well I love music, like to dance and sing along but I feel awkward and stiff in front of other people because you know like it’s more fun in a group of friends but I feel self conscious if I dance too hard or sing too loud so I just end up stiff and…” You trail off when you catch his small smile and realise how you’d been rambling.

“Hmm i don’t think this is just about singing, you’re too scared to be loud figuratively and literally.” Xavier pulls the covers off and stretches his arms above his head, arching his broad back covered by an oversized hoodie.

“Your turn.”

“My turn?” He looks towards you, his eyes still a bit sleepy.

“Yeah, tell me something you’re embarrassed to say to the others.”

“Oh that’s easy,” he gets up from the bed and yawns softly, “I’m actually not from this planet.”

It takes a good minute for his words to settle in your brain, and another minute for your brain to decide if he’s attempting a joke or not. Your initial reaction is to laugh it off, frowning at him in confusion.

“If that’s supposed to be a joke then I don’t get it.”

“It’s not a joke,” he responds immediately, strolling to the bathroom, “if we’re being our authentic selves then… I should let you know something that no one else knows.”

“Are you insane?” You ask abruptly without even noting how sharp your tone is.

If Xavier notices your attitude, he doesn’t show it. He just blinks slowly and opens the bathroom door.

“We said no judgement right?”

“Yeah?” You stand up from the bed almost automatically, your heart sinking for some reason.

“Then let me show you something.”

Your feet answer him before your mind can and you walk towards the en suite where he’s waiting.

“Why are we in the bathroom?” You stand a good few feet away from him, not that you’re particularly worried he’ll do something to harm you, but more so because he doesn’t seem to be joking around.

Does this guy seriously think he’s an alien?

“Well you don’t seem to believe that I’m not from this planet so I guess I have to prove it to you.” He says calmly before grabbing the hem of his oversized and starting to pull it up over his head.

“Hey! Hey!” You immediately wave your hands out to stop him before you opt for turning around and closing your eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” You hear him chuckle quietly from behind you.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” You ask in an accusatory manner, “you may as well be an alien because a normal person wouldn’t just start stripping naked in front of someone they just met.”

“Plenty of normal people hook up with complete strangers,” Xavier comments rather tiredly, “and besides, I’m not naked.”

“So you are trying to hook up with me?”

“No I’m not.”

You stand there for a few seconds, stupidly staring at the gray tiled walls before pivoting back around to look at him. He isn’t naked, as promised, but he’s discarded his shirt and you get a full view of his lean, pale torso and defined arms. However, you’re more distracted by the strange markings adorning his ribcage, running all the way down to his waist. They’re simple, dark scales, all neatly arranged in descending sizes with the longest one tracing over his hip bones. They look like tattoos – an interesting artistic choice but you’re not sure what this has to do with him claiming to be an alien.

“What am I looking at?” You ask curiously.

“These markings are genetic to my kind,” Xavier explains, his voice composed as if he’s informing you of some boring aspect of his life, “we’re native to a planet called Philos, from a different galaxy that you humans haven’t begun to discover yet.”

“How long are you gonna keep this up? Anyone can get that tattooed on themselves.” You fold your arms, growing increasingly thwarted with this little charade. Not that you’re angry with him, but this joke or whatever it is isn’t amusing in the slightest.

Xavier sighs, like he’s the one that’s meant to be frustrated in this situation. Without another word, he stalks over to you and grabs hold of your wrist, pressing your palm against his bare chest. His skin is ice cold and clammy, as if he’s breaking out in a cold sweat, but it’s completely dry. It’s a strange sensation, feeling the slow thump of his heart beneath his chest. Once again, you’re not sure how this is supposed to convince you of anything, but it does leave you flustered and unable to fathom what’s happening.

“Look at me.” Xavier’s quiet and serene voice echoes through the bathroom. The rest of the villa seems still and quiet; most of your friends are probably still passed out after last night’s activities.

“I am looking.”

“I mean look at me properly… please.” His voice cracks a bit, a hint of vulnerability showing through his usual aloof behaviour. He seems desperate and you can’t understand why.

Your eyes fall onto his face, taking in his features that you’ve been gawking at this entire trip so far. His soft pink lips, his dainty, pointed nose and those eyes. Those otherworldly blue eyes that are staring right back at you, glowing like they’re filled with stars. You feel everything that I consumed the night before come up and settle in my chest. Can he really be telling the truth? No, that’s just absurd. There’s no such thing as aliens and they sure as hell don’t just show up on earth in the form of a handsome young man.

And just as you’re about to yank your arm away and tell him you don’t find this joke funny – he starts to glow. Not completely, just where those markings are littered on his torso. A light emits from them, his hand suddenly warm against yours. He closes his eyes, concentrating on something before your whole body starts to vibrate. You instinctively start to panic at the sensation until it’s gone rather quickly and instead you feel a tug on your arm. For a split second there’s nothing but darkness just sucking you in until then you’re in an endless white room.

The only thing grounding you is Xavier’s arm on yours, like an anchor. You catch your breath and look up at him fearfully, trying to make sense of it all.

“What- where are we?” You ask frantically, tense under his gaze but you refuse to move your arm away for fear of floating away.

“This is… the edge.” Xavier explains vaguely, pulling you a bit closer.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s like the edge between my galaxy and yours,” he smiles awkwardly, “I obviously can’t just teleport to my home planet but… for you to believe me I’ve brought you to this somewhat halfway point, where our galaxies meet.”

“What happens at this… halfway point?” You frown at him.

“Wandering souls from both our galaxies settle down here, probably tethered to something or someone on either side,” he explains, a dreamy look in his eyes, “my kind are genetically designed to travel to the fourth dimension, but not for too long, usually only in our dreams… I’ve heard some humans can do it as well?”

“Um I personally haven’t- uh Xavier? I can’t really wrap my head around all this.”

“I understand…” He smiles sadly before sighing and closing his eyes again.

In a split second you feel those vibrations again, the feeling of being sucked into a vacuum making you shut your eyes before you’re safely back in the bathroom and everything is exactly as you left it. Your whole body grows cold as you finally pull your arm away from him. In a startled state, you sit down on the edge of the bathtub, your eyes fixated on the floor as you try to understand the reality of this situation and simultaneously try not to throw up all over the fluffy bath mat.

“Please don’t turn me in.” Xavier says in a small voice, all his usual serenity and confidence dropped right down the drain, “I’ve gone for over 200 years in hiding and I can’t get poked and probed now.”

“You- 200 years?” You lifted your head in shock.

“I… I arrived here by accident, an expedition gone wrong 200 years ago earth time,” he says, his back against the shower door and his head hung low, “I’ve laid low all this time and… I’m trusting you with this because you seem nice and as sad as it sounds, I could use a friend.”

“Xavier… you’re 200 years old?” You stand up from the tub.

“I’m 214.” He clarifies, peering up at you through his long bangs. There’s a deeper emotion to his words that prompts your next question.

“And how long is the lifespan of your kind?” You ask carefully.

“215.” He answers so sharply and now his desperation makes sense.

This is why he really trusts you with all of this. For all he knows, you might be the last person he gets to share this secret with.

“Why are you crying?” He asks after a beat of stunned silence.

You reach your hand up to touch your cheek and, sure as day, it’s damp. You don’t know why you’re tearing up either. Maybe it’s the way he explains all of this - so calm and accepting yet desperate for something, anything. Over two hundred years on this earth and soon it’d all be over. How does one even come to terms with that? You have no choice in your heart but to believe his story and empathise with him.

“Sorry I… I’m sorry to hear all of this,” you eventually respond, your voice trying to stay neutral despite your sudden display of emotions, “it must be really difficult for you.”

“You humans are such empathetic creatures.” He tilts his head to the side, studying you for a bit.

“Not all of us.”

“Oh trust me, I know that,” he stifles a small laugh, shaking his head, “that’s why it’s taken me so long to come out with my big secret.”

“I can’t be the only person you’ve told.”

“But you are,” he insists, “for the most part, I’m coming clean because I’m not sure how much time I have left you know… and then the other part of me wants to trust you, I feel like you’re special.”

“I’m not special.” You counter abruptly.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Whenever I say things to single you out you just shut me down,” he stares intently, “do you not feel important?”

“Wow, all these years on earth really taught you how to be direct and up front.”

“Apologies, when somethings on my mind I just like to say it,” Xavier smiles sheepishly, “but if it’s any consolation, I truly mean it when I say you feel special… I want you to see me for me, in the same way I want to see all of you.”

You swallow dryly at his words, fidgeting with your fingers absently. You’re in uncharted waters here. No one’s ever said anything like that to you before, especially with that look in his eyes, as though you’re the only person in existence. You want to keep his secret. You want to get to know him and his life - or lives - as crazy as it may seem. You want to bring down your walls and let him accept you as you are in the same way you’re willing to take him in. For once you don’t want to sit on the edge and dip my feet into the shallow waters. You want to dive in head first.

After an awkward pause, you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Wanna go for a swim?”

—

Xavier is an excellent swimmer with a carily precise form and intense knowledge about different strokes. He tells you about how he was an amateur league swimmer a few decades ago in France and that’s only the second most outrageous thing you’ve heard today. He’s wearing a long sleeved black rash guard and swimming trunks that barely hide his perfect physique. A part of you internally gushes over the fact that you were trusted enough to see the alien markings that adorned his torso.

“I’m more of a doggy paddle in the shallow end kinda gal.” You joke, letting yourself float in the middle of the pool while Xavier glides past you in a breathtaking backstroke.

“But you can swim right?” He asks in amusement before he began floating flat on his back as well, his eyes closed.

“Yeah I can swim, you don’t have to worry about saving me.”

“I wouldn’t mind having to save you, I took a CPR course.” He says nonchalantly.

“I feel like there’s probably nothing you haven’t done.”

“Hmm I haven’t gotten married or had kids or owned a house or-“

“Okay I get it,” you laugh gently, “but those are like mundane human things, your lives seem much more exciting.”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes still closed as he allows the water to lull him side to side. The world around you is still peaceful, only the occasional chirping of a little bird disturbing the quiet. You look towards him before guiding your body up to float closer to him. You’re side by side, the warm summer sun contrasting with the cool water.

“I haven’t fallen in love.” He says in a soft voice, so delicate that you barely hear him with the water calmly sloshing against your ears.

“Me neither.” You reply.

“You haven’t had a partner?” He asks.

“A few casual things here and there but nothing of note,” you brush it off, “what about you?”

“Well, the same,” he huffs out a small chuckle, “my excuse is my secret, I could never let anyone get too close for fear of them finding me out, what’s your excuse?”

“I may as well be an alien with the way I don’t let people in.” You join in on his laughter.

“I hope you let me in,” he turns his head to look at you, a distant grin on his face, “your world seems like a beautiful place.”

The house starts to stir with activity, everyone else waking up with their regular hangovers while you and Xavier get out of the pool. You wrap yourself in a fluffy towel, shivering a bit despite the smouldering sun shining down on you, the 10AM glow making Xavier’s hair look almost yellow. He notices you staring and smiles shyly.

“You sure do like to stare a lot.”

“You’re one to talk,” you roll your eyes, “and forgive me, it’s not everyday I get to befriend an extraterrestrial being.”

“Let’s go for a walk?” Xavier asks with a small yawn, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

You two leave the backyard through the little white cantilever gate and stroll onto the pathway that leads to the beach. The weather is warm enough with a perfectly gentle breeze to keep you cool. Xavier hops down the small bank before helping you down as well, his hand on your waist. He keeps it there as he leads you off the path and towards a rock pool hidden by the lush greenery.

“Did you know this place is here?” You ask him curiously.

“Yeah, I wandered off a few times when no one was looking,” Xavier chuckles, eventually moving his hand away, “except you, you’re always looking.”

“Oh so you have a big head? Because I’m not always looking.” You roll your eyes even though you know you’re lying.

“I thought we said there’s no judgement here? If you want to keep looking I won’t stop you.” He grins playfully before tugging you into the little pool, drenching you and your towel in the process.

“Xavier!” You shriek once you hurriedly paddled to the surface of the icy water, wiping the strands of damp hair away from your face.

Xavier just can’t help the shit eating grin on his face as he shakes the water from his hair, his hands still holding onto the small of your back. Despite your irritation, you don’t have the heart to fully put him down for his playfulness.

“Was it so hard to just ask me to get in the water?” You ask breathlessly in faux annoyance.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He shrugs before gently tucking away the wet hair still clinging to your forehead.

You quickly return the gesture, slicking his ashy bangs away from his face and making him laugh softly.

“How do I look?” He ponders, tilting his head to the side.

“Like a… wet puppy.”

“I was hoping for handsome but I’ll take that.” He shakes his head. His breath fans over your collarbone and suddenly you become aware of how close the two of you are.

“Well you are handsome, I don’t think I need to say that.” You admit as you hesitantly reach your hands up to rest on his broad shoulders, the material of his rash guard sticky against your fingertips.

“Even if you think it’s not necessary to say,” he hovers a bit closer, if that’s even possible, “I want to hear it from you.”

His nose is inches from yours, his piercing eyes darting all over your face. The cold water is barely noticeable as your entire body heats up under his gaze, flushed with desire and adrenaline. His lips are curled into the slightest smirk, but somehow there’s nothing malicious about it. Even so, it’s enough to give him exactly what he wants.

“You’re handsome.” You whisper, a voice so small that you wonder if he can even hear you over the cries of the seagulls or the gentle wind rustling the trees.

“And you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on in all these years on this blessed planet.” He replies firmly and his declaration is so serious it makes your heart do a flip.

“I’m pretty su-“

“No, don’t even try to deny it,” he presses his calloused index finger to your lips, “if there’s one thing you know about me by now, it's that I’m blunt and I mean what I say.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t know how to take compliments and… attention like this.” You say awkwardly, turning your head away in embarrassment.

“Then let me stop talking and just show you.” He whispers before you feel his hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you to look back at him.

You can barely register anything before his soft lips are pressed against yours. The kiss is gentle at first, explorative as he tests the waters. You tentatively close your eyes and melt into his sweet embrace, leaving your mind hazy but content. After a few moments, his tongue nudges against your lips and you part them immediately, letting him deepen the kiss. Your hands lock behind his neck while his fingers dance down to your bare thighs, gripping onto them as he hoists you up under the water. You wrap your legs around his waist, falling deeper and deeper into the feel of his mouth against yours, the faint smell of his perfume fizzled out by the seawater, the taste of him that was like no one you ever kissed before.

You drop back down to earth when you feel his skilled fingers tugging on the strings of your bikini top and you freeze. You slowly pull away from the kiss and he instantly stops his wandering hands, looking at you for permission to take this further.

“Um… we might be going a bit fast…” You finally say, feeling yourself cringing at your own words.

This is it. This is the part where he realises you’re boring and insignificant and he’s wasted this whole day when he should be spending the last moments of his life with someone amazing who’ll give him all the exciting experiences he de-

“You’re right, sorry if I was rushing you,” Xavier smiles calmly, his hands moving down to simply hold you around my waist, keeping you close to his warmth, “I got carried away because I’m really starting to like you, you know?”

“Wait what?”

“What?”

“You like me? Like that?”

“Of course, why else would I kiss you?” He pouts adorably.

“I just… I like you too I guess.”

“You guess??” Now he looks appalled.

“Oh God sorry I didn’t mean it like that.” You can’t hold back your laughter as you hide your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know what? You should just kiss me again so I forget you ever said that.”

And so you do.

—

The remaining days of your vacation pass by in a blur of stolen kisses, shy touches and gentle conversations away from the regular hustle and bustle. While your friends are making the most of the final leg of this trip, you and Xavier grow closer and closer until it’s clear as day that you care deeply about this man and he’s managed to break down all the walls you so carefully built around yourself.

And then the inevitable happens.

It’s the last night of your trip and he’s standing next to you on the balcony of his room. You’re pressed against the railing, hyper aware of his arm around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. The proximity alone is enough to send sparks flying through your veins.

“You’re sure it’s tonight?” You ask warily, unconsciously gripping the railing a bit tighter.

“I can’t say what time but I… I can feel my body shutting down,” Xavier explains solemnly but with barely any fear for what is to come, “it’s had enough really, I’m sure it’ll happen soon.”

“Do you… do you know what’ll happen to you?” You turn around in his arms to study his face but his expression is as passive as ever.

“I’m not too sure, I know I won’t just collapse in a heap and die,” he jokes, biting back a laugh when he notices you’re not amused, “knowing my genetic makeup I’ll probably just dissolve into thin air, my particles floating back to my planet maybe or somewhere else, maybe drifting between space and time.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Not really,” he finally smiles genuinely and reaches out to caress your face, “these two weeks with you have been so fulfilling… you’re the first real connection I’ve made in all these years and now that I’ve experienced loving someone… I can go happily wherever it may be… I have no reason to be scared.”

“You love me?” You tilt your head.

“I might as well… if these are my last minutes or hours on earth I would love to spend them loving you.” He whispers before capturing your lips into a desperate kiss, the force making both of you stumble back into the room.

His hands are everywhere all at once, engulfing you and swallowing you whole. This time you don’t hesitate, you don’t hold back, you don’t shy away for fear of being judged. For once, you want to be seen because you know Xavier appreciates everything that you are. A nervous, awkward and insecure mess — he doesn’t leave any room for doubt with the way he holds you with such reverence. His eyes stare down at you in awe as our clothes disappear one by one, layer by layer, discarded on the carpeted floor. You let out a weak gasp as his cold hand dips between your legs, checking your readiness.

“You can be as loud as you like.” He whispers, placing a delicate kiss on your shoulder.

His movements are gentle and loving, leaving no spot of skin unloved. He worships your being, knowing this would be the only time he has you like this. Slowly and sensually, he enters you and it feels as though a dome has been placed over the both of you, filled with warmth and serenity that you provided for each other.

You see him standing on that balcony, his gaze hard and longing for his home. An outcast just trying to survive in a world that isn’t his. You couldn’t be more different and similar at the same time. Even though you have to say goodbye to him, the way he makes you feel will live on with you forever. You won’t hide yourself anymore. You won’t force yourself into corners. You won’t sell yourself short anymore because in the 200 years of Xavier’s existence, he chose to love you in his last days.

When your mind descends back to reality, you’re a moaning mess, clinging onto him until you both finish. Xavier lays himself on top of you, careful not to crush you but trying to get as close as possible. There’s a deep silence, broken only by your short breaths and the rustle of the bedsheets. After a while, Xavier lifts his head to give you a satisfied smile. He leans in and nuzzles his nose against yours before rolling onto his back.

“You were wonderful.” He comments calmly, reaching down to hold onto your hand. And despite everything that had just transpired, that simple touch sent my heart racing.

“So were you,” you smile, “and not just in bed I mean… for this entire time, I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company as much as yours.”

“I actually have something for you… just a letter I wrote,” Xavier traces his thumb over the back of your hand, “but I’d rather you read it when I’m… gone.”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” you insist, rolling over to cuddle against his side, “let’s just enjoy this moment.”

—

He’s gone in the morning, without a trace left behind. Perhaps he did dissolve into nothing, his soul drifting to his home planet or somewhere further away. Maybe there’s a heaven for aliens? Maybe none of this was real? When your eyes flutter open and you feel the space in the bed next to you cold and empty, you dare to dream that his lost soul is in that halfway point he showed you before, tethered to you forever.

You stretch your tired limbs, your heart heavy as you tug yourself out of the bed and throw your clothes on. You wander over to the desk in the corner of the room, your eyes fixated on the letter he had left for you. Part of you doesn’t even want to read it, another part of you wants to believe that this entire trip was a long, intense lucid dream. With conflicting emotions, you grab the piece of paper and unfold it.

dear y/n

despite being someone that has read a copious amount of books in my lifetime, somehow it’s still difficult for me to express anything with words. isn't it funny how even after two hundred years pretending to be something i’m not, i still fear saying something wrong? i’m sure if there’s anyone who can understand that feeling, it’s you.

i think it’s best i’m straightforward, like i always am. these days with you were the perfect way to spend my last moments. i hope you don’t think that i was just using you. what i feel for you is genuine and it hurts me deeply that we didn’t have more time together. it’s a bit cruel that the star i was looking for all this time only appeared when it was too late. but it also just makes the time we had so much more special.

i don’t know where i’m going. i don’t know what’ll happen to me after this. i’m sorry that i have to leave you so soon, but if our connection is what i hope it is, i’ll still be with you from the other side. in that space between my galaxy and yours, i will watch over you. i will always see you.

with love, xavier.

You clutch the letter to your chest, barely registering the tears brimming in your eyes. Your thoughts drift back to that first night, when Xavier hid in the bathroom, shielding himself like you always did. Without thinking much about it, you reach your hand up and knock on the desk three times.

Perhaps it’s your imagination, just an audible hallucination playing tricks on you, but you swear you hear three little knocks back.

thank you for reading !! — illumivier 🤍

[endorphins-assembly-line]

Making a harmless comment about having too high of a sex drive to your two roommates Xavier and Sylus one morning that ends up with the two making it their personal mission to see just how high that sex drive is.

Xavier sitting next to you on the bed, praising how good you’re being while Sylus works yet another orgasm out of you with his wonderfully slender fingers. You’re not even sure how many they’ve given you between them but they don’t seem intent on letting up anytime soon.

“You can give us one more, right?” Sylus coos, those crimson eyes of his tinted with mirth at the way you try to keep your legs from shaking. Then suddenly, something shifts in his expression. “Or maybe we should get Zayne first.”

The look on your face—the way that you twitch and flutter around his digits—tells Sylus that his suspicions have been right all along. You do like your enigmatic third roommate. Perhaps a bit more than you’ve been willing to admit.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Xavier chimes in softly, seemingly in agreement. He looms over you with a smile that would seem almost innocent if it weren’t for the last hour he’s spent helping to pick you apart. “So just imagine how he’ll act seeing how worked up you’re getting just from hearing his name.”

[endorphins-assembly-line]

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ caleb finding ur gspot <3

💭 : p in v , changing positions, mating press, prone bone, doggy, dumbification, slight degradation with praise

you didn’t know what he was doing. every time you thought he’d stop, he’d settle, he would change positions. acting like he was trying to find something inside of you that you didn’t even know was there. but your body did.

every time caleb thrusted, you clenched around him in pleasure—but it felt like he was missing something. every time he changed positions—from your legs on his shoulders, bending you in a way you didn’t even think was possible, to putting all his weight on top of you as you drool into the pillow—he blubbered something about knowing that it was somewhere inside, that he was so close to finding it.

every thrust was restless, a thrust deep—short, fast, a bit too the right, far to the left—you felt it through the fuzzy haze that muffled your hearing and overstimulating you. you felt your brain turn into mush, seeping past your lips as drool with every buck.

“c-caleb,” you slurred, face pressed against your pillow as he lifted your hips and pressed your ass against his pelvis. “‘leb, what’re you do—hah!” he quickly hushed you, thrusting harshly again, seeking for something—and you thought he hit it before missing it by a fraction. “know it’s here somewhere. fuck, fuck—gonna find it—gonna make you squirt, baby,” he panted.

he moved your hips to the side—thrusted. moved them slightly down—thrust. up again—thrust. until he pressed down on your back, making you arch against the matress and moved his knee—

he hit it and it felt like your brain popped.

you let out a sharp scream (one that your neighbors will probably call 911 thinking you were murdered) and you squirted. loud, wet, and dirty as your jaw dropped. he let out a choked gasp and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. he let out a long groan, head tilting back. “fuckkkk… there ya’ go. all dumb and fucked out for me, huh?”

he drew back, just to slam back, tip pressing against your gspot again that made your legs fly around and hips buck. “as you should, right? you like being so dumb for gege. your drooling your brains out, sweets,” he chuckled, grinding against the spot as you sobbed into the pillow.

[endorphins-assembly-line]

WEAR HEADPHONES

NSFW

Sylus and Xavier are in a rut at the same time and they use you to get through it.

All dialogue and sfx come from the game. No AI.

[endorphins-assembly-line]

Got reminded of your pillow humping fic, (Which is amazing btw!) and it made me re-read it. It also made me want to ask if you would be willing to do a part 2 to it? 🤔 Or just a continuation of Caleb's part? Because that fic is so hot! And I need more! I feel like especially for Caleb's part you could do a part where Caleb catches her in the act instead. Like her trying to figure out if it feels as good as it looked? But you can do whatever you want!

Honestly, I wouldn't mind you just writing the same concept again. 🤷🏼‍♀️😏 I love pillow humping and yearning, whimpering men.

Enjoy pookies!

TW:Smut

Zayne/Caleb/Xavier/Rafayel/Sylus

Art: omi-resources

When you catch them humping a pillow (here)

✨✨When they catch you humping a pillow✨✨

You squirmed on the bed, the soft cotton sheets rustling beneath your writhing body. Zayne's pillow cradled between your thighs like a secret lover. Its scent, a mix of his cologne and the unique musk that was purely him, filled your nostrils with each breath you took.

Your panties clung to your drenched sex, rubbing deliciously against your swollen clit with every roll of your hips. You gasped as the pillow pushed against your entrance, walls clenching around the pressure.

Beads of sweat gathered on your brow, trickling down the side of your neck to pool in the hollow of your collarbone. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as if trying to break free. The room, though cool, felt stifling under the heat of your arousal. Your skin flushed, a pretty pink hue spreading across your chest and cheeks like a fever.

You knew he was close, just down the hall in his office. Working. Always working. Even on his day off, he couldn't seem to switch off doctor mode. You had tried to catch his attention earlier, to lure him back to bed with suggestive whispers and teasing caresses. But he had been preoccupied, his brow furrowed in concentration as he barked orders into the phone. So you had left him to it, retreating to the bedroom to tend to your own desperate needs.

Now, with the pillow pressed tight against your cunt and Zayne still out of reach, you couldn't hold back any longer. The pillow was a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was all you had. And as you rutted against it like an animal in heat, you felt your climax built swiftly, the coil of tension in your lower belly winding tighter and tighter.

"Y/N?"

You gasped sharply, eyes flying open wide as Zayne's voice cut through the haze of your lust. Your hips stilled for a moment, the pillow still nestled firmly between your thighs. You turned to face him, cheeks flushed a deep crimson that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

Zayne stood in the doorway, his frame filling the space. He wore only a pair of low slung pajama bottoms, his broad chest bare and on full display. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now dark and hooded as he took in the scene before him.

"Y/N?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble you could feel in your bones. "What are you doing?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry despite the dampness between your legs. "I'm... I'm having sex," you managed to gasp out, your voice breathy and strained with need. "With myself...Because someone else didn't want to." Your hands gripped the sheets tighter, knuckles turning white as you braced yourself against the mattress.

As you spoke, you found yourself unable to keep still. Your hips began to move again of their own, grinding down against the pillow. The rough texture caught on your sensitive clit "Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back as you chased that delicious sensation. "That feels so good..."

"Please..." you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. Release, his touch, his cock... it didn't matter. You just needed more. "Zayne..."

Your thighs trembled, muscles quivering with the effort of holding yourself back from simply throwing yourself at him. Your core clenched, aching, empty, and so very desperate to be filled.

You felt the pillow being abruptly removed from between your thighs, leaving you feeling suddenly exposed and wanting. 

"Touch yourself," he ordered "Use your hand to touch your pretty, needy clit. But do not cum, not until I tell you to. Do you understand?"

You could only nod, your throat too tight to form words. His hands hooked into the waistband of your drenched panties. The fabric clung to your skin, before he peeled them away with agonizing slowness.

With a trembling hand, you reached down, your fingers brushing against your dripping slit. You circled your clit, tracing the sensitive nub with feather light touches. A sharp gasp tore from your throat at the contact, hips bucking up into your own touch. Your legs fell open, spreading wide and baring yourself completely to Zayne's eyes.

"Fuck, look at you," his gaze riveted to your sex. "So wet and desperate. You need to be touched, don't you love?"

You whimpered in response, fingers moving faster, the slick sounds of your arousal filling the room. But you didn't let yourself slip over the edge, not without his permission. 

And when you couldn't hold back any longer, your body screaming with the need for release, you begged, "Please Zayne, I can't... I need... oh god, please let me cum!" Your finger flew from your clit, your hand fisting in the sheets to keep from pushing yourself over the precipice.

In a blink Zayne settled between your splayed thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them even wider. His face hovered scant inches from your dripping sex, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive flesh.

Then you felt it, the first flick of his tongue against your swollen clit. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body jerking and tensing.

He licked his lips, like he was enjoying your taste on them. "How does that make you feel, y/n?" 

"L-like I never want it to end" you managed to gasp out.

Before you could draw another breath, he sealed his lips around your pussy, his flat tongue dragging slowly up your slit. "Ooohhh!" you moaned, long and low, head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut. Your wetness dripped onto his tongue, coating his lips, his chin, marking him with your scent.

He licked you again, slower this time, his tongue delving deeper. Your hips moved, instinctively seeking more of that friction. Your fingers tangled in his hair, not pushing him closer, but holding on for dear life.

A choked sob of frustration escaped your lips as Zayne suddenly stopped his delicious torment, leaving you aching. 

"Couldn't wait for me to finish work, could you? Now you're shaking and begging me to finish what you started. But brats don't get to cum on command. They earn it."

Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of your eyes as he spread your legs even wider, until you felt a pleasant stretch in your hips. Your sex clenched, empty and aching, as if reaching for something to fill it.

Then his mouth was on you again, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue deep into your dripping core. A scream tore from your throat when he licked you with a ruthless intensity that left you seeing stars.

"Aaahhh! Zayne! Oh god, yes! Don't stop!"

He showed no mercy. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicked over it, sucked it between his lips as he licked and lapped at your sex. Your body bowed off the bed, back arched, breasts thrust out, as pleasure crashed over you in relentless waves.

You felt your climax building, the coil of tension in your core winding tighter and tighter. Your moans escalated, rising in pitch and volume until they bordered on wails. Tears streamed down your cheeks, throat raw from screaming his name over and over again.

Still, he didn't slow down. Even as your orgasm slammed into you, your sex clamping down on his tongue, he kept licking. Kept sucking. Kept fucking you with his mouth until you saw white, until you thought you might pass out from the intensity of your release.

And through it all, you took it. Every last lick, every filthy suck, every devastating thrust of his tongue.

You took it like a good girl.

After a week of awkward silence, you found yourself alone in your bedroom late at night. You couldn't shake the memory of walking in on Caleb in a compromising position, him, naked and lost in pleasure, his face contorted in ecstasy as he thrusted into his pillow, chasing his release. The image was seared into your mind, making your body react in ways you tried to ignore.

You'd heard him before, in the dead of night when he thought everyone was asleep. His muffled grunts and pants igniting a secret curiosity.

Now, you find yourself rubbing your pillow against your clothed sex, seeking the same bliss you saw in Caleb's expression. Your heart races as the fabric of your panties creates delicious friction against your sensitive folds.

You press the pillow harder against your core and your panties dampen as your arousal leaks out, soaking through the material.

Your breath comes in short gasps, each exhale escaping your lips in a soft moan. You let yourself imagine its Caleb's hand between your legs, his fingers stroking your folds, his thumb circling your clit. The thought makes you buck your hips harder and your breathing grows heavier, matching the rhythm of your hips as they undulate against the pillow. The pressure builds, your body tensing, yearning for release.

Suddenly sensing his presence, you freeze. His intense gaze is palpable, even in the dim light. You feel it burning into your back, watching your every move.

Heart pounding, you slowly turn to face him. He's closer than you thought, dark eyes smoldering with unreadable emotions as they rake over your body. Embarrassment colors your cheeks a deep red.

Before you can react, he's right there, looming over you. His large body blocks out the faint light, casting long, shadows across your flushed skin. You tremble slightly, caught in the act, vulnerable and exposed.

"Caleb..." you breathe out, voice barely above a whisper. You try to tug your shirt down, to cover your exposed thighs, but he's too close. You're trapped.

His voice, low and rough, fills the charged space between you. "Are you touching yourself to the thought of me, Pips?" he asks bluntly. There's no judgment, only raw curiosity and something darker.

You can only stare back, mouth agape. Your face burns like the rest of you, core throbbing in time with your racing heart.

"You're not very subtle. You wanted me to know. I could hear your needy little moans all the way from my room." His gaze drops to your soaked panties, and a low, approving groan rumbles in his chest.

"You're fucking soaked, aren't you? Let me help you find relief, sweetheart."

You find yourself surrendering to his dominant aura, your legs parting automatically to grant him access. He doesn't hesitate. He runs a single finger along your panties, collecting your essence, before bringing it to his lips. His eyes flutter shut briefly as he tastes you, sucking your arousal from his skin.

"Mmm, so warm and sweet," he murmurs appreciatively, his eyes burning into yours. "You're fucking gorgeous like this. Lost in pleasure, craving more..."

He hooks his fingers into your panties and tugs them aside, baring your pussy to him. He takes your hand in his, guiding two of your fingers to your entrance. "Push them inside. I want to watch you pleasure yourself"

His presence, his unwavering attention, the blatant desire in his eyes, it's all too much, yet not nearly enough. Your body aches for more, yearning to give him the show he craves.

Your fingers tremble as you slowly push them into your dripping folds, never breaking eye contact with him. The sensation makes you gasp, your walls clenching around your fingers.

He pushes your fingers deeper, his hand enveloping yours, guiding you to explore your own depths. "Like this, princess" he whispers.

His gaze holds yours captive as he continues, "You touch yourself like this, thinking of me because no one else gets you like I do. Every stroke, every thrust of your fingers, you imagine it's my voice in your ear, telling you that you're mine."

Caleb's words make your head spin, dizzy with lust and longing. You pick up the pace, pulling and pushing your fingers in time with his instructions.

"You want me to be proud of how desperately you crave my touch?" he asks as he watches your fingers work over your aching sex. "Show me how much you need me"

He gathers your slick on his fingers, painting your puffy clit with your own arousal. The added stimulation makes you buck against your hand, body crying out for more.

"Please..." Your mind goes blank, focused solely on the pleasure radiating from your core and the man orchestrating it.

As your climax approaches, walls clenching greedily around your fingers, Caleb increases the pressure on your sensitive nub.

"You know my name, moan it for me, princess"

And you do. You scream his name like a prayer, a declaration of belonging.

He's made his point crystal clear, you are his, utterly and completely. And he has every intention of keeping it that way.

You were lost, the morning sun illuminating your passionate frenzy as you rutted against your pillow like a woman possessed. It had been an eternity since you'd last spoken to Xavier, a whole five days of pent up longing and frustration, thanks to that first real fight you'd had. His jealousy, usually a smoldering ember, had erupted into an inferno that day, leaving you both scorched by its intensity.

As you bucked and writhed on the soft fabric, your mind drifted back to the vivid dream that had started this desperate need. In your dream, Xavier was nestled between your thighs, his favorite place to be. You could almost feel his warm breath on your sensitive flesh before the cruel sound of shattering glass jolted you awake. The memory of it left you trembling with want.

Too far gone to care about the noises spilling from your lips, you clung to the pillow like a lifeline as you chased your pleasure. Your shirt was shoved up to expose your heaving breasts, a nipple peeking out as your fingers plucked and rolled the stiff peak.

You imagined it was Xavier's mouth lavishing attention on your dripping sex through the soaked fabric of your panties. His teeth would graze your sensitive nub with the lightest pressure, sending you arching off the bed with a strangled moan. The pillow took the brunt of your need, cushioning your desperate grinding.

You were on the verge of exploding with frustration, your body aching for release that kept slipping through your fingers like sand. Each time you climbed that peak of pleasure, your clit would scream in protest, the sensation becoming too intense too quickly. It was as if you were a runner sprinting towards the finish line, only to have it yanked away at the last second, forcing you to trudge back to the starting line to begin your race again.

You were panting and flushed, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat as you rutted against the pillow once more. The fabric was damp beneath your touch, bearing witness to your desperate need. Your arousal was a living, breathing thing, coursing through your veins and clouding your mind. You were lost in your own little world, chasing your pleasure, when suddenly...

"Enjoying yourself?" a familiar voice purred, startling you out of your trance.

Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound, and with a gasp, you wrenched the pillow from between your legs to use as a makeshift shield. The fluffy fabric did little to conceal your state of undress or the fact that you had been in the midst of a very intimate moment. Heat flooded your cheeks as embarrassment battled with lingering arousal, leaving you flustered and tongue tied.

"Xavier, what...?"

The idea that he had witnessed your wanton display, heard the obscene sounds of your desperation, made your core clench and your nipples strain against the thin fabric of your shirt.

You felt exposed and yet...a part of you thrilled at the thought of him seeing you this way. Of knowing the depths of your desire, the aching emptiness that only he could fill. Your body was still humming with need, your clit still throbbing and swollen. The interruption had only served to heighten your hunger, leaving you craving his touch with an intensity that bordered on ravenous.

You gazed up at Xavier with hooded eyes, your pleading gaze a silent scream for his touch. Your voice was a needy rasp as you begged, "I need you, Xavi, please..." The desperation in your tone was palpable, every nuance of your longing laid bare before him.

He walked towards you with predatory grace, the look in his eyes was one of pure hunger, the stare of a man possessed, consumed by the need to claim his woman.

"Are you sure?" he asked. It was a challenge, a warning, and a promise all wrapped up in one. He could see the fear in your eyes, the way they widened at his words, and it only spurred him on. He lived for that look, reveled in the knowledge that he could inspire such a visceral reaction in you.

"You know I won't take you gently," he continued "You're afraid because you know I don't just want you..." His hand came down to grip your chin, tilting your head back to force you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed across your lower lip "I will devour you. I will fuck you until you can't walk, can't think, can't breathe without feeling the ghost of my cock buried inside you. I will ruin you for anyone else."

His other hand slid down the side of your neck, his fingers curling around the delicate column as if he could snap it like a twig. "You are not free," he whispered, his face now inches from yours. "You are not free," he repeated "because you belong to me, mind, body and soul. I will fuck you so hard and so often that the only word you'll remember is my name."

His grip on your chin tightened, forcing you to hold his gaze as he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "You are claimed," he breathed, "in every sense of the word. You are mine, now and forever"

His other hand slid down your body, his fingers skimming over the swell of your breast, the curve of your waist, before coming to rest on your hip. He squeezed the tender flesh, his nails digging in just shy of pain "You will be fucked like the goddess you are. Worshipped like the sinful creature I've created you to be. And you will be my sin, my addiction, my reason for living, for as long as I draw breath."

His lips crashed against yours in a kiss, all teeth and tongue. It was a kiss that spoke of possession, of ownership, of a love so deep that it bordered on obsession. It was a kiss that promised pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, but also a kiss that warned of the price you would pay for being the object of such intense devotion.

He made quick work of your remaining clothing, practically tearing the flimsy fabric from your body in his haste to bare you completely. Your panties were the last to go, the scrap of lace and cotton no match for his strength as he ripped them away, baring your sex to the cool air of the room. Your arousal coated your thighs, glistening in the morning light.

He didn't bother with any pretense of gentleness as he freed his cock from the confines of his pants and underwear. The thick length sprang forth, long, hard, and already leaking with desire. He could feel your eyes on him, could sense your gaze drinking in every rigid inch.

Then he pushed your knees up and back, until they were nearly folded against your chest, your body bent in half to accommodate his need. Your pussy was exposed, soft folds glistening and swollen, just begging to be filled. And fill you he would.

He notched the broad head of his cock against your entrance, the thick crown parting your lower lips as if your body was already eager to welcome him home. His hand gripped your hip, fingers sinking into the tender flesh hard enough to leave bruises, a brand of his claim on your flesh. He could feel you trembling beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as you anticipated his invasion.

With a single thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt. His thick length split you open, stretching you wide around his girth as he sank balls deep. The breath was driven from your lungs at the sudden intrusion, your body struggling to adjust to the intense stretch, the delicious burn of being filled.

His teeth sank into the side of your neck branding you as his. The sharp sting of pain mingled with the pleasure and you could feel the hot, wet trail of his saliva on your skin, the way his tongue laved over the reddening flesh, soothing the hurt.

Even as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy, you craved more. More of his touch, more of his possession, more of that exquisite pleasure pain that only he could give you. It was a hunger that could never be sated, a thirst that could never be quenched. You were addicted to him, to the way he made you feel, to the need that burned through your veins like liquid fire.

As if reading your mind, Xavier's hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, not hurting, but simply holding you, holding you in place so he could watch your face, could see the way your eyes widened and glazed over with pleasure as he began to move. His long fingers spanned the delicate column, his thumb resting lightly against your racing pulse.

Each thrust drove you closer to the edge, your body coiling tighter and tighter like a bow string pulled back and ready to snap. You could feel the tension building in your core, heat pooling in your belly as he filled you again and again. Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines in their wake as you clung to him.

He could feel your pulse pounding beneath his palm, could see the way your throat constricted with each gasping breath. He knew you were close, could sense the telltale flutters of your sex around his cock. And still, he drove into you harder, deeper, his hips slapping against yours with a lewd sound that filled the room.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked, his voice a dark, dangerous rumble that vibrated through your very bones. "Say it," he demanded, punctuating his words with a particularly sharp thrust that had stars exploding behind your eyelids. "Tell me who owns this sweet cunt?

"You Xavi..."

His grip on your throat tightened as he felt your body begin to convulse beneath him, your pussy clenching around him "That's it, bunny," he panted harshly "Cum for me. Show me who owns this pretty pussy and every orgasm it ever has."

He could feel your nails digging into his shoulders, could hear the desperate, keening cries spilling from your lips as he fucked into you with a ferocity that bordered on punishing. The bed creaked and shuddered beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust of his hips.

"Xavier!" you screamed, your voice breaking on a sob as your climax finally crashed over you. Your sex spasmed around him, the rhythmic squeezing of your walls milking his cock for all it was worth. He could feel you gushing around his length, your arousal dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you.

"That's it," he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he felt his own release fast approaching. "Fuck, your cunt feels so good squeezing my cock"

He knew, as he emptied himself inside you, that your body was no longer your own. It belonged to him, now and forever. Every inch of your soft, pliant flesh existed for one purpose only, to be used, to be worshipped, to be claimed by him.

He saw the way your tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. They weren't tears of sorrow or pain, but of overwhelming ecstasy. Each salty droplet was a testament to the intensity of your pleasure, a silent prayer of devotion to the god that had brought you to such heights of rapture.

Your begging and your tears, your soaked thighs and your boneless body, they were all a part of your worship of him, of the divine connection you shared. They were the visible, tangible expressions of a love that transcended the physical, a devotion that knew no bounds and made no apologies.

This was all Rafayel's doing.

You were sprawled on his bed, aching and needy, your body burning up from his dirty texts. It was supposed to be a sweet moment, you told him you finally had time to get your nails done. But then he went and asked for more, demanding a naughty picture to satisfy his hunger.

"Show me how nice they look by sending me a picture of you spreading your 😺 lips with them, cutie."

You obliged, snapping a lewd selfie with your manicured fingers splayed over your folds. The image was sent before you could second guess yourself. Now, you were left high and dry, your core throbbing and desperate for his touch.

Your hips undulated on the mattress, grinding your soaked panties against his pillow.

The damp patch on your underwear grew with each passing second, arousal seeping through the fabric. You ached to be filled, to have Rafayel's cock stretching you open and relieving this intense pressure.

Your clit pulsed, swollen and sensitive as it rubbed against the soaked cotton.

You were wound up so tightly, your body crying out for release. But more than that, you craved him. His touch, his kiss, his filthy words whispered hotly against your ear.

Soft whimpers escaped your parted lips as you writhed on the bed. Your nipples were hard points beneath your shirt, begging to be touched.

Your climax was so close, your lip caught between your teeth as you teetered on the edge.

Just as you were about to tumble over, you heard the unmistakable sound of Rafayel's voice. Your eyes flew open, a gasp escaping your lips as you whipped your head around to face him.

He stood there, arms crossed, with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were fixed on his pillow, the one you'd been grinding against so wantonly just moments before.

In a flash of surprise and embarrassment, you grabbed the pillow and hurled it at him. "It's pretty rude to walk into a room unannounced, Raf," you scolded,trying in vain to cover yourelf.

He caught the pillow easily, his smirk only growing wider as he tossed it aside carelessly.

"Yeah? Well, it's pretty rude to moan someone's name when they are not around to help you make those pretty sounds" 

You felt the blush spreading across your cheeks, he walked closer, looming over you with a predatory gaze that made your heart race.

He reached out, his fingertips grazing your ankle before sliding slowly up your calf. Your breath hitched as he drew closer, until his hand was resting high on your inner thigh.

"I could help you finish, you know," he murmured, his thumb brushing maddeningly close to where you needed him most. "I could make those moans so much louder, cutie."

Desire clouded your judgment, your body aching to be one with his. So you reached out, unzipping his pants with trembling fingers. The bulge in his trousers was unmistakable, proof of his want for you. He gripped your wrists when you tried to stroke him and in a quick motion he moved to sit on the bed, pulling you astride his lap. You hurriedly tugged your drenched panties to the side, the flimsy fabric a barrier no more.

He didn't hesitate. He gripped your hips and thrust up, burying himself inside you. You cried out, your walls clenching tight around his thick length as it filled and stretched you so perfectly.

You clung to his shoulders for support, your nails digging into his shirt as you tried to adjust to his size. His hands slid up your back, his fingers splaying across your shoulder blades as he held you close.

He knew your body's deepest desires, and he indulged them with skillful precision. As he guided your hips to bounce on his cock, you felt yourself surrendering completely to the rhythm he set.

Your mind grew hazy, drunk on the sensation of his hard heat driving into you again and again. It was as if he could see directly into your soul, his intense gaze guiding your every movement, telling your body exactly what it needed.

His muffled grunts and groans against the sensitive skin of your neck sent shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Your thoughts dissolved like mist beneath the scorching heat of your desire. In that moment, your world narrowed down to just your body and his, two halves of a whole unite in ecstasy.

You could feel it, the way your body submitted to him, surrendered itself completely. You were his, heart, body and soul, now and forever. The realization made your heart swell, climax building at the base of your spine.

Lost in a fog of lust and love, you rode him with wild abandon. Your hips seeking that ultimate connection, that perfect union. And as your pleasure crested, your vision went white, your world exploding in a supernova of sensation.

 Your face when you came was the most breathtaking sight Rafayel had ever witnessed. No artist's palette could capture the flush of your cheeks, the parting of your lips on a silent scream, the way your eyelids fluttered and your eyes rolled back in bliss. It was the ultimate masterpiece, one he would forever engrave in his mind.

"One more, give me one more"

"I can't..." you whimpered, too sensitive, too raw from the intensity of your last climax.

"It wasn't a request, cutie" Rafayel murmured, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "Just one more"

He would take it slow, he promised, but take it he would. Your next orgasm belonged to him, just as you belonged to him.

You were alone, ovulating and craving Sylus's touch. It had been a week since he left, and now you found yourself restless and yearning.

Climbing into his huge bed, you hugged his huge pillow close, inhaling his lingering scent. The silk sheets felt so good against your bare skin, a sensual caress that made you shiver. You couldn't resist the temptation of the luxurious fabric.

That's when you noticed it, the silken texture of the pillowcase, even softer than the sheets. The material felt exquisite, smooth as a whisper against your most intimate places. A daring idea sparked in your lust addled mind. Would it feel like his tongue?  you wondered, cheeks flushing hotly at the notion.

Heart pounding, you made your decision. You couldn't stop yourself now, even as a small voice in the back of your head whispered that this was wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this in his absence. But the temptation was too great. Slowly, tentatively at first, you rubbed the supple silk through your slick folds, gasping at the unfamiliar yet thrilling sensation.

The pillow was soon coated in your arousal as you grew bolder, grinding your hips against the silken surface.

The damp fabric slid deliciously between your folds, mimicking the glide of Sylus's tongue. You couldn't stop, the empty house echoed with your shameless moans and the rustle of silk against naked skin.

You chased your climax, grinding your hips in tight circles, rubbing the pillow where you needed it most. Your breath came in ragged pants as the pressure built inside you, your core clenching around the phantom stimulation.

You were close, so close to finding the release your body craved. The silk, the pillow, your own touch, it was all you had, and it was almost enough. Almost.

"Naughty little kitten"

You froze as you heard Sylus's voice, a jolt of shock and embarrassment coursing through you. In your lustful haze, you hadn't heard him enter the room, too lost in your solitary indulgence. Now, you found yourself exposed, your naked body on full display as you clung to his damp pillow and the silk sheets.

Flushing with shame, you hastily tried to cover yourself, wrapping the sheets around your curves. It was a futile effort, given the state of disarray you were in. The fabric, once cool and smooth, now felt electrifying against your heated skin.

Sylus's evol, a tendril of dark energy, snaked out and lifted the pillow and sheets from the bed. They drifted down to the floor beside him, leaving you bare, your arousal glistening on your inner thighs. 

"You've made quite the mess of my pillowcase."

The pounding of your heart, once a drumbeat in your clit, now echoed in your chest. You were acutely aware of every inch of your naked body, every sensitive nerve ending crying out for his touch

"Don't let me stop you, sweetie," Sylus murmured, his eyes roving over your curves like a physical caress. "You were doing so well, pleasing yourself on my pillow. I could hear every needy moan, every desperate grind. Tell me, does the silk satisfy your greedy little cunt?"

"Sy...Please"

He seemed to sense your urgency, your overwhelming need. He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Do you need my help, kitten?"

You nodded frantically, too far gone to speak at first. But Sylus waited, his smirk widening, his eyes glinting with wicked delight

"Beg for it," he demanded "Beg for my help"

Your cheeks burned hotter at his words, but the ache between your thighs only intensified. You knew you should feel ashamed, but all you could focus on was the throbbing emptiness inside you, crying out for Sylus's touch.

"Please, Sylus," you gasped out, your voice trembling with desperation. "I need you. I need your hands, your mouth, your... your cock." The last word was a whisper, a naughty plea falling from your lips. 

He moved with purpose, his intentions clear in the dark glint of his crimson eyes. He grabbed the pillow, soaked with your arousal, and placed it beside you on the bed.

"Listen carefully, this is how it's going to go." He reached down, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. Your eyes widened as you watched the process, your mouth already watering in anticipation.

When his cock sprang free, you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp. It was just as you remembered, thick, hard, and heavily veined. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips as you gazed at his impressive length.

"I'm going to fuck your pretty mouth, and you're going to grind your cunt on that pillow until it's absolutely soaked." He nodded towards the pillow, already. marked by your desire. "And you better make a good, messy job of it, kitten, understand?"

You swallowed hard, nodding your agreement. Sylus smirked, satisfied with your compliance.

"Now, be a good girl and open your mouth," he ordered, "Stick your tongue out for me."

Obediently, you moved to straddle the pillow, the cool silk kissed your dripping slit, and you had to stifle a moan, hips already twitching with the urge to grind against it. Then, you opened your mouth wide, your pink tongue lolling out as you gazed up at Sylus with hooded eyes.

He slapped his cock against your outstretched tongue, letting you feel its weight. Your mouth watered with each tap, drool already starting to gather at the corners of your lips. He teased you, letting you sample his musky scent and savor the promise of his taste.

With a low, approving moan, Sylus slowly sank his length into your waiting mouth. He moved with deliberate control, pumping in and out of your mouth with a steady rhythm.

At first, Sylus kept his thrusts shallow and you did your best to keep up, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the tip. Drool dripped down your chin as you moaned and gagged around his cock. You felt like you were doing well, matching his pace with the rolling of your hips on the pillow beneath you.

Just as you started to find a rhythm, Sylus suddenly surged forward, spearing his thick length deep into your throat. You had no choice but to breathe through your nose, inhaling his scent as he began to truly fuck your face.

More of your arousal soaked into the silk fabric as you grinded desperately against it. Drool coated his cock as he used your mouth, fucking into your throat with abandon. You were at his mercy and you loved every second of it.

He buried his cock deep and held you there, nose pressed against his pelvis, as he ground against your face. Your lungs burned, crying out for air, but you gave him the control he craved.

As quickly as he'd claimed your throat, Sylus pulled back, allowing you a gasping breath before plunging in again. His rhythm became erratic, each thrust harder and more desperate than the last. You could feel his cock pulsing and throbbing, growing even thicker in your stretched mouth.

He was just as lost in pleasure as you, his need consuming him. His balls tightened, drawing up close to his body as his orgasm approached. You grinded desperately against the silk pillow beneath you, the fabric finally granting you the release you craved as Sylus fucked you through it, his cock slamming into your throat.

As your scream of ecstasy vibrated around his shaft, Sylus let out a guttural moan. Your mouth flooded with his hot, thick seed, his cum filling you until it dripped down the sides of your stretched lips. There was so much of it, too much for you to handle.

He pulled out abruptly, leaving your mouth dripping with his cum and your own saliva. Before you could catch your breath, he commanded gruffly, "Be a good girl now and show it to me before you swallow."

You hesitated for just a moment before opening your mouth wide, letting the mixture of your fluids pool on your tongue. You stuck out your chin, giving Sylus an unobstructed view.

He reached out and gripped your chin firmly, his fingers digging into your jaw as he forced you to keep your mouth open. You felt the cool air hit your spit slick tongue, the thick drops of his release glistening obscenely.

"Good girl," he praised. "You've done well, kitten." He held you there, making you wait for his permission, a thrill running down your spine at his complete control.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sylus gave a sharp nod. "Now. Swallow it all down like a good girl."

With a bratty grin playing at your lips, you obeyed, tipping your head back and swallowing every last drop. The taste of him coated your throat, marking you from the inside out. You knew, as you licked your lips clean, that you belonged to him completely, body, heart, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[endorphins-assembly-line]

⋆˚ ✿ ˖ ࣪ sylus making you squirt for the first time

all you can hear is the squelching sounds of your pussy being stretched out by sylus’ long digits, curling upwards to reach that sweet, spongy spot of yours in all the right places, with sylus chuckling at the way you writhe and moan against his lap, your bare back pressed against his broad chest, “you look like you’re struggling..”

your eyes gloss over from the overwhelming pleasure that’s building up in your core, whining out his name mixed with your high pitched moans and shallow breaths. you can barely form a sentence when you babble out, “i- it’s too much, please..”

“i know, i know.” sylus mumbles against your ear in that soft tone that doesn’t align with the way his fingers continue to abuse your g-spot and slap against your swollen clit. he can feel how close you are with the way your walls tighten around his digits, “just let go for me, sweetheart.”

and when you do, feeling a heavy release of your pleasure that you’ve been so eager to feel with your body writhing and shaking against his with ecstasy you’ve never felt before, you choke out a moan when a long squirt of clear liquid shoots from your overstimulated cunt, causing a gentle gasp to fall from your lips in both surprise and pleasure.

sylus groans at the sight with his large hands caressing your shaking thighs, “that’s my girl.”

you breathe out, still coming down from your high and how you unexpectedly squirted for the first time ever, “i’ve never done that before..”, you mumble, looking up while gently biting on the bottom of your lip to meet with his intense, red eyes.

he hums at your response, a small smirk now making it’s way onto his face when he hears your words, “yeah? well, i’m not stopping until i make you do that again.”

[endorphins-assembly-line]

whatever you need

★pairing: xavier x fem!reader ★wc: 2.5k ★content: xavier takes care of you through ovulation pain and ovulation horny (horny only dealt with after the pain has passed). 18+ smut: breeding/ovulation kink, oral (f receiving), piv, multiple orgasms, creampie, possessive xavier. nicknames for reader: starlight, baby, love. nicknames for xavier: bunny, baby. ★a/n: this was a cathartic comfort piece that descended into pure smut. if I had a nickel for every time I wrote a fic for xavier that turned horny halfway through- ★masterlist

“Oh fuck,” you hiss, doubling over in pain as it shoots through your abdomen.

You don’t even have time to blink before Xavier is by your side, hand pressed over where you clutch at yourself.

“What’s wrong?” His words rush out, leaning down to try and catch your gaze. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I—” you break off with a hiss, leaning back over the moment you try and straighten yourself. “Fuck. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Your eyes flash up to his, wide-eyed and panicked as fear at the sudden pain flares to life.

“Xavier, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, easing you back onto your sofa, helping you find a comfortable position—which results in you leaning almost all the way forward, bent over your knees, head between them. “It could be your appendix. Have you had issues with it before? I’ll call the hospital—”

“Wait,” you interrupt, reaching out to tug him back. He immediately sits beside you, holding your hand securely in his. “What day is it?”

When you look up at him, he’s blinking, head tilted in confusion.

“Tuesday?” he answers slowly, brows furrowing.

“No.” You shake your head with a little laugh, wincing as the pain pinches again. It’s less stabbing in this position, more cramping, and starting to feel familiar. “My cycle. Can you bring up your calendar?”

Xavier’s eyes widen in understanding, scrambling to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“I think it’s too early for your period,” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he taps on his screen to bring up the calendar. He's no stranger to your painful cramps, even if it's never hit you so suddenly with no bleeding before.

He scrolls through the calendar for his little reminder of the day your period starts, marked simply by your initials and a star emoji.

“No, not that.”

You point at the start of your last period, following down through the weeks to find yourself at about 14 days from it today.

“Okay,” you sigh in relief, leaning back on the couch.

“What?” Xavier looks at you, then back at today’s date, then up at you again. “I don’t understand.”

You laugh a little, endeared by his little pout when you do.

“Two weeks,” you explain, pointing at the date with your finger again. When he still looks confused, you lay it out simply, “I’m ovulating, Xavier. It’s ovulation pain.”

But he’s already tuning out the moment you say ovulating, cheeks slowly tinting a dark pink.

“Oh.”

His mouth opens, and closes. You press your free hand not clutching your abdomen to your mouth, stifling a giggle, but his pout deepens at the little sound that escapes you anyway.

For all the effort he put into tracking your PMS, your period itself, your mood changes and all your symptoms, he hadn’t thought to check when you were ovulating?

“No wonder I’ve been extra horny lately,” you mumble to yourself, and he coughs.

“I—” Clearing his throat, he looks back at you, and down to your hand on your stomach. You can see him focusing back in slowly, even though he’s still blushing. So fucking cute. “I didn’t know it hurt?”

“Sometimes.” You shrug, cupping his cheek when he frowns in concern up at you. He presses his palm to your hand, nuzzling into your touch with those big blue eyes. “Not always. But it tends to happen on the same side for me, so I usually recognize it. It just…took me by surprise this time.”

Xavier pulls your hand back from his cheek, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm. He kisses up your forefinger, then the middle, nipping playfully at the tip of your ring one, and you giggle.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, rubbing at the dull, pinching pain. You still didn’t dare to move much, not wanting to trigger another spike. “Can you get the heating pad?”

“Sure thing, love,” he murmurs sweetly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he’s off to the cupboard where you keep most of your arsenal of period supplies.

“Need anything else?” he calls as you hear him rifling through it.

“I don't think so,” you answer, watching as he comes back into the living room, plugging the heating pad into the outlet and switching it on before placing it on your tummy.

You sigh in relief when the heat slowly begins to sink in, relaxing back into the sofa.

“Thank you, bunny,” you whisper, lips meeting his in a kiss. And then another, slow and sweet, nose nuzzling against his.

He hums, kissing the tip of your nose, then buries his face in your neck. Xavier curls himself around you, rubbing gently at your stomach through the heating pad.

“Anything for you, my starlight.”

You’re both quiet for a while, sinking into each other, enjoying the shared body heat. Time drifts past, and you're lazy and content in each other's arms, the brief moment of pain passing while you snuggle your boyfriend.

He rests on top of you, head on your chest. Your hand rubs over his back, slipping under his hoodie and t-shirt to scratch lightly at his skin, and you smile as he makes soft noises of content. You're almost certain he's fallen asleep from the peaceful moment—you know you're about to doze off yourself.

Then he asks, softly, “Do you want me to…track it?”

“Hm?” you hum, half-asleep from the cozy cuddling.

“When you…ovulate.” His voice rasps a little when he says it. You think it’s unintentional, but it still sends a little shiver through you. His grip on you tightens when you do. “Do you want me to track it?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t already, honestly.”

Xavier shrugs, burying his face further against your neck. You card your fingers through his hair, and he hums happily.

“I…wasn’t sure if it was okay to pay attention to it.”

“You could’ve just asked me.” You sigh fondly, giving a little tug at the ends of his hair, and he jerks with a quiet grunt. “Silly bunny.”

You can feel him smile against your skin, right before he snuggles closer into you.

“So, is it…?”

“Yes, Xavier.” You press a kiss to the top of his head, smiling against his fluffy hair, almost golden in the late afternoon light that filters through your curtains. “You can track when I ovulate.”

He lets out a shuddering breath. “Okay.”

The tension is palpable as you both fall quiet again.

More time passes, and you feel more and more restless, panties damp just from the thought of him knowing what your body needed right now. You wiggle a little, testing to see if any pain lingered, and sigh in relief when you feel it’s gone completely, the moment long passed.

“Xavier,” you whine, nosing along the skin behind his ear. Your teeth graze along the sensitive lobe when he jerks forward with a little moan, holding you tighter as you bite down gently. Your voice is husky when you ask, “Does that turn you on? Knowing that I'm ovulating?”

He sighs shakily, gripping at your waist.

“Are you still in pain?”

You grin wickedly, even if he can't see it. “Nope. Not for a while.”

He breathes out in relief. “Okay. Good.”

You’re flat on your back in an instant, your sweet boyfriend gazing down at you with that familiar, darkening look.

Your thighs squeeze together, and his palms slide down, gently parting them.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs, eyeing the wet patch that had managed to seep through your comfortable, thin lounge shorts. “Already?”

You bite your lip, and his hand comes up behind your head on the armrest, towering over you with all the carefully contained, hidden power you were so obsessed with.

“I told you I've been horny.” You can’t help but smirk at the way his flush darkens at that. “All I’ve been able to think about for days is you fucking me stupid.”

Xavier sucks in a breath, already tugging down your shorts and panties in one strong yank.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he nearly whines, lowering himself down your body, pressing sloppy kisses to your stomach when you nudge the now obsolete heating pad out of the way, switching it off. “I would’ve given it to you. I would’ve kept us home from work and fucked you all day and night until you were full of my cum. Until it—”

He cuts himself off, peering up at you uncertainly, his lips grazing against your hip bone.

“Say it,” you breathe, hips jerking up, nearly brushing your dripping pussy against his lips, and he licks his watering mouth at the near contact. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Xavier groans, sucking your wet folds into his mouth. He lets them go with an obscene pop just as quickly, and you whine. “I would’ve filled you until it took.”

“Yes,” you whimper, head tilting back with a moan of relief when his tongue descends on you, licking up your entrance and flicking across your clit with expert precision, learned from an intimate knowledge of your body alone. “Please.”

“That's what you want, isn't it?”

His words tease you as much as his mouth, the vibrations of his sinful promises just as mind numbingly good as his tongue thrusting into your tight, needy hole. He licks along your walls, and you tremble under him, feeling his moan deep inside you when you clench around his tongue.

“You want me to breed you until you’re all mine,” he gasps when he pulls back for air, "don’t you?”

You don't answer right away, lost in the pleasure, and squeak when he gently pinches your ass.

“Tell me, love,” he commands gently, soft voice dark as sin, and your thighs tremble. “Use your words.”

“Yes," you gasp, hips rolling up into his ravenous mouth. “Yes, Xavier, fuck.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he moans, tongue licking back up to your clit to suck it into his mouth. He hums in content as he circles it with the tip, then rubs it with the flat of his tongue, back and forth.

“Yours,” you whimper, refusing to look away from how drunk he was on the taste of you, his lashes fluttering at your words. "I'm already yours.”

“Mine,” he pants, dark eyes meeting yours. He shakes his head from side to side, the flat of his tongue rubbing your clit at a pace that makes your toes curl, breathing heavily through his nose. His possessive words are slurred against your cunt, “You're all fucking mine.”

Your mouth falls open, higher pitched moans escaping you as your orgasm hits you hard and fast.

God, you loved coming at this time of month. It always came so much easier, and felt so much deeper, consuming, even without being filled.

But Xavier planned on making good of his promise.

He gives one more suck to your overstimulated clit, kissing it before leaning back on his heels. His thumbs hook into his sweatpants, tugging them down with his boxers, and you only have a moment to appreciate how hard and flushed his pretty, thick cock is before it’s disappearing into your folds.

“Too much?” He pants out, hips stilling a few inches inside your cunt when you let out a quiet cry.

“No,” you whimper, reaching out for him, nails digging into his muscular thigh. “More, Xavier. Need you to fuck me, need to be full of you.”

You lose any coherent thought as he slams into you to bottom out in one full stroke. And, oh, the filthy things that soft voice could say as he begins fucking you in earnest.

“—so beautiful, my love, god you’re so—hah, so wet. Taking me so well, your pussy’s sucking me in like she wants me to live inside you.”

The couch creaks with each powerful thrust, nearly scraping back against the floor, and you have just enough of a moment of clarity to feel bad for your neighbors. But then Xavier’s cock hits a spot inside you just right, and you don’t care anymore if they all hear you screaming his name to the heavens.

Just the passing thought of them knowing how good their quiet, sleepy neighbor fucks you is enough to make you clench around him, pulling a moan from his throat.

“Please,” you beg, legs hooking around his waist, and he tugs you closer until your hips are flush together, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each quick, shallow thrust. “Cum inside me Xavier, please, please, want you to fill me up.”

“I’ll fill you up,” he groans out, lifting your hips as he snaps his own into them. “You’ll be dripping with me for days, starlight. On the subway, in the office, everywhere we go you’ll still be stuffed with my cum—”

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“Please,” Xavier whimpers, leaning forward to press kisses along your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. “Wanna breed you, fuck you again and again until you’re having my—”

“Xavier!” you cry out, seeing stars as white hot pleasure blooms through you when you come for the second time.

You can feel the pressure of his hand in yours, fingers curling tightly together as his cock pulses and floods you with hot spurts of his cum.

“Take it,” Xavier pants against your ear, moaning and mouthing at your skin. “Take it, fuck, need you to take it until I get you all knocked up for me.”

“Xav,” you whine, tugging at his hair when the overstimulation begins to kick in.

His thrusts slow, weak rolls of his hips to get every last rope of cum as deep into your pussy as it can be, before he collapses on top of you.

“Too—” he pauses, gasping for breath, and you soothe your hands down over his back, letting him sink his weight into you, until he was practically a weighted blanket. “Too much?”

“Mm, no,” you hum, nudging his chin up to admire his blissed out face. Your lips meet his in a lazy kiss, whining when just the simple act of affection has him twitching inside you again. “Just enough.”

He kisses you a few more times before pushing himself up, slowly pulling out of you. His fingers catch the glob of his cum that spills out, slowly pushing it back into your puffy, soaked cunt.

Xavier smirks in that dark, satisfied look as you watch the possessive action with a whine.

“Same time next month, starlight?” he asks breathlessly, cheeky in that endearing playfulness and too damn proud of himself.

You snort, gently swatting his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before he stands, his half-hard, cum-slicked dick still out as he moves to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth to clean you up. You're in for a full day of loving attention and cuddles now, and you smile. “See you then, baby.”

taglist: comment here if you want to be added! blank blogs will be blocked ⭐️Xavier fics @itsmysmut @santaluna @onigiriinthecorner 💖all fics: @frostbitten-cherry @asiatic-apple @heartyluv @floatinginaer @sweetcalebb @princessofenkanomiya @lazygelpen @deepspacebunnieblue @cherryartchaos @kireeen @stargirlygirl

[endorphins-assembly-line]

Sitting on Xavier’s face helps him destress.

You had been so reluctant at first, worrying that your crush him, suffocate him, break his damn neck. But he begged, truly begged, nearly in tears because he was so worked up.

And, well, you caved. How could you possibly say no when those blue eyes were staring at you like you were the only cure to all of his troubles? Of course you gave in.

“Oh fuck…! Xavi-er please!” The grip you have on the headboard is enough to make the wood splinter. You lost count of how many times he’s made you cum, tears now staining your cheeks as your thighs tremble.

Xavier is relentless, hands gripping your ass harder as you beg for him to ease up. “S’too much!” But he growls in response, sucking your poor cunt harder.

There is no use trying to ease him off of you, you’re stuck on this ride until he can control his nerves. “Shit! ‘M gonna cum, Xavi… please I can’t… too much!” Your body convulses, clinging to the headboard for dear life as he works you through another earth shattering orgasm.

Bleary eyes struggle to focus as you look down at him, surprised to see he was looking up at you in response. That alone was enough to make you shutter, aftershocks of your orgasm making tears leak down your cheeks.

Xavier doesn’t relent, at this rate you’re certain you’ll pass out before he gets his fill. You force a glance over your shoulder, he hadn’t so much as gotten undressed before ripping your clothes off of you.

One glance down and you can see a dark patch spread over the front of his sweats. How many times had he come completely untouched? “X-Xavi let me take care o-of…” but he’s nuzzling your drenched pussy, moaning against your throbbing clit and starting all over again.

The brain worms are eating me alive today, gotta keep posting horny

[endorphins-assembly-line]

xavier likes to take control in the bedroom

★pairing: dom!Xavier x fem!Reader ★wc: 2k ★content: piv, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampies, one ass smack, one use of good girl, (accidental) cum licking, Xavier mentions wanting to record, check-in/they take a little break, implied that they have a safe word, Xavier calls Reader pretty, Xavier has a filthy mouth. Nicknames for Reader: Starlight, baby, love. ★a/n: Xavier's innate princely qualities make him such a hot dom to meee so this is shameless porn with no plot exploring that <3 ★masterlist

The first few times you had been intimate with Xavier were easily some of your most precious memories. It was a new experience for the both of you, and you had taken it slow and sweet, enjoying how it felt to know each other completely.

As time passed, and your relationship continued to grow, so did your curiosity in the bedroom—as did his. It didn't take long to learn that while your sleepy boyfriend seemed nothing but angelic and soft-spoken, he had a lot more lurking beneath the surface.

Xavier knew just how to use that soft voice to his advantage. He knew how to make a command feel like silk against your skin, until you were begging him to put it in, to stuff your cunt with his cum until it was dripping down enough to stain through your mattress.

He knew how just how to whisper the sweetest praise into your ear while you spent hours face-down in your sheets as he pounded into you, driving you delirious with orgasms as he filled you up with his own, again and again.

You were eager for it, always hungry for this hidden side of him. The side that took control so easily it felt like it was gifted to him by birthright.

For somebody so in charge of every aspect of your life, it was a breath of fresh air to let him take control in bed, especially with how safe and loved he always made you feel. And you knew it was that very love that drove his desire to see you feel good, to know how you'd come to trust him so completely.

You yearned for how possessive he could get, how he was obsessed with seeing you pliant and pleasured underneath him.

Because of him.

In a flash, you're flipped onto your back, whining at the loss of him when he slips out of you.

Your eyes meet his when Xavier leans over you, your cum-drenched thighs squeezing together when you see that bottomless hunger still hasn't faded from his gaze.

You know very well that he can keep going all night, even with how flushed his face has gotten, the pink spreading to his ears and down his neck, all the way to his chest.

His fluffy hair is damp with the sweat of nonstop exertion, but his cock is still an angry red at the tip and hard against his stomach.

You reach down, tracing the vein along the underside of it, admiring how it twitches under your touch. Your fingers come away wet with your combined release that was still dripping down it.

"Do you need a break?" his quiet voice rings out above you, and you glance back up to see that flicker of familiar softness in how dark blue and hypnotizing his eyes had gotten. "Water?"

You lick your dry lips, and nod with a little wince.

"I'm a bit thirsty, yeah," you rasp out.

He nods, helping you sit up against the pillows before reaching for the cup on your bedside table. Holding it to your lips, he watches as you gulp the water down, humming in approval. His thumb brushes against your throat when you're done, collecting a droplet that had dribbled down from your lips.

After he sets the empty glass back down on, his long, delicate fingers trail along the cover of the book you'd borrowed from him on the nightstand.

"Do you like the sequel so far?" Xavier asks, his hands finding your thighs to gently spread them again.

"The—ah, the first one's better," you answer with a trembling sigh when he takes his cock in hand, sliding it between your folds to collect his lingering cum there.

"Really?" he hums, glancing up at you through his lashes, still slowly rubbing himself between the lips of your pussy. "Tell me about it."

You whine, hooking your legs around his waist.

"Later," you huff impatiently.

Xavier chuckles, low and breathy.

"Such a needy pussy," he whispers, voice soft and steady as he notches his head against your entrance. His face is calm and composed, his posture as perfect as ever when he leans back, tilting his chin up to get a better look at you all sprawled out for him. "Fucked her three times tonight and you still want more."

God, you'd never get tired of how filthy that sweet, quiet mouth could get.

At his inquisitive look, you nod.

"Fuck me again," you breathe, skipping right to the point instead of waiting for him to ask.

Xavier sinks back into you, slipping so easily through your warm walls with how long you've both been going at it. He moans when he bottoms out, eyes squeezing shut, and your breath catches in your throat from seeing how blissed out he got just from being inside you.

You think he'd be content if all you did was warm his cock all night.

Just the thought of him spending all his time asleep buried deep in your cunt sends a shiver up your spine, and you squeeze around him by reflex.

"Oh fuck," he breathes, eyes fluttering open to gaze down at you. "Do that again."

You bite your lip at how easy the nature to command came to him. Squeezing your pussy around him, you smile when he groans, long and low.

When he sees your lips curled up, Xavier almost pulls out of you completely, just to slam back in hard enough to pull a scream from your throat.

"O-oh," you cry, scrambling for something to ground yourself as he buries himself to the hilt, only to buck into you rapidly again and again.

He watches you writhe from the pleasure, that little self-satisfied smirk teasing the corner of his lips. You moan, reaching for him, and he takes your hand in his, fingers squeezing yours to ground you.

"Xavier," you gasp, drunk off his heavy-lidded eyes and the repeated driving of his cock inside you. Your head falls back against your pillows, tits bouncing with each hard snap of his hips against yours. "Fuck."

His eyes scan down your body, lashes fluttering at how your entire body trembles from how relentlessly he fucks into you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," he murmurs, fingers detaching from yours to graze against the front of your neck. They trail to the side, tracing the flutter of your pulse underneath your heated skin.

His palm presses flat against your collarbone, sliding between your bouncing tits and down to press against where he bulges against your lower stomach.

"So pretty all full of my cock."

You whine, hips canting upwards to meet the harsh slap of his skin against yours. You can feel the pressure building from where he keeps hitting that same spot deep inside you, the one that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back.

"There it is," Xavier whispers, pressing down more on your abdomen, and your mouth falls open with a long, low moan. "Fuck, you're drooling for me. Can feel you getting tighter too."

"Xavier," you whimper for him again, legs shaking and scrambling for purchase around his waist when his hands find your ass, dull nails digging into the soft flesh as he lifts you from the mattress. "Please, please—"

You thrash in pleasure underneath the quickened pace of his thrusts at this angle, gasping in time with the fast, harsh rasps of his own breathing from the effort.

"Please what, Starlight?" His voice is so sweet, so innocent, even as you can hardly think when his thumb circles around your clit. You cry out, grabbing at his wrist, trying to get his fingers to rub you directly. "Use your words for me, love."

Even with your fucked-out brain, you know what he means. You remember one important word among all the other ones that uselessly float around your mind, but you also know that's not what you want to use right now. You don't need to stop, you need to cum.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, struggling to find the words he demands of you, your lips forming around empty sounds and aching for his own tongue to fill it instead.

His hand smacks your ass, and you cry out, jerking forward when he squeezes the flesh.

"Eyes on me, love."

You blink rapidly, gaze refocusing on where you had been blankly staring up at your ceiling. When you glance back at him, your pussy flutters at the little smirk curling up half of his lips again, matching the dark, heady look in his eyes.

"Good girl."

You keen at his praise, eyes trailing down to where your slick dampens his silvery happy trail, leading to his cock as it slides in and out of your soaked and ruined pussy.

"Speak," Xavier demands calmly, with the gentle ease of a prince bringing someone to their knees.

He pinches your ass, and your thighs twitch with a yelp.

"Let me cum," you gasp, struggling to keep your eyes open when you look back at him. You're glad you do, because you see him waver, his mouth falling open at your pretty begging. "Make me cum, Xavier, please. I want to, I need to—"

His thumb flicks back and forth across your clit, and your shaking legs falls from his hips, heels digging into your bed. Xavier rubs quick, tight circles into the bundle of nerves at a nearly punishing pace, and your vision blacks out when you feel the pressure deep inside your cunt suddenly burst.

Your mouth flounders around the syllables of his name, slurring it in every scream of it as you cum, drenching his thighs and the sheets underneath you with each wave of mind-shattering pleasure.

"Fuck, you're—you're squirting," Xavier gasps, the words distant and bouncing around your empty, pleasure-tinted thoughts. "You haven't—ngh, you've never done this before."

He nearly collapses on you, his breathing hot and heavy in your ear, balls slapping against your ass with each desperate, shallow thrust.

"So pretty, so so pretty," Xavier rambles into your ear, soft voice equal parts possessive and delirious. "Next time I'll—hah, I'll record it, show you just how—fuck, just how pretty you are—"

"Xavier," you whine, vision clearing up enough to meet his eyes.

It's right at the moment when you peer up at him, content and utterly cock drunk, that he finally snaps.

You watch his eyes glaze over when he cums, entranced by how pretty pleasure looked when it bloomed across that angelic face. His brows turn upwards, mouth forming a silent o before your name is wrenched from his lips in a broken moan.

He thrusts weakly a few more times as more of his cum floods into you before quickly pulling out, jerking himself off and watching the ropes of white mark you from your stomach up to your tits.

Xavier's back on top of you in an instant, his entire body's weight pressing you into the ruined mattress when he collapses from exhaustion, and you laugh breathlessly.

His lips press against your skin, licking along the curve of your breast and chuckling when you squirm. Smiling up at you, that darkened look slowly bleeds out of his eyes, along with all the tension in his body.

Your nose wrinkles when you notice the smudge of his own cum on his lips from licking your chest, and you giggle, gently wiping it off.

"Good?" he murmurs, his eyes already drooping heavily.

You drag your fingers through his damp hair, nodding even though he can't see it, his head resting against the pillows of your breasts.

"Very good," you hum, and you feel him smile before he presses another kiss to your chest, right above your racing heart.

"Good," he sighs, nuzzling further into you. "Wake me up in ten minutes."

"You are not going to wake up in ten minutes, Mr. Hunter," you laugh.

"I will," he whines softly, hugging you tighter. "I have to take care of you…clean you up…"

Your nails scrape up and down his back, and you smile when you feel his hums of content unravel into gentle snoring that rumbles from his own chest into yours.

Pressing a kiss against the top of his head, you whisper, "I'll give you twenty."

[endorphins-assembly-line]

inspired by this

“c’mon Sy, you can give me one more can’t you?” You tease, unable to hide the sadistic little smile edging it’s way past the corners of your lips, staring in awe at the way his red, angry tip spit out precum as you stroked him.

It had been hours. Hours of you milking him for all he was worth, wanting to see how many times you could bring him over the overstimulated edge before he was shooting blanks. He was nothing but pants and plea’s. His cum drunk mind going between begging for more and begging you to stop your devilish movements.

“C-can’t kitten, d-don’t think I have any left.” He stuttered, carmine eyes practically heart shaped as he looked at you.

Sylus, ever the eloquent man, had been reduced to nothing more than a sex drunk fiend, watching as you use the remnants of cum from the last however many orgasms to stroke him, the white, sticky honey squelching between your fingers as he begged and moaned.

“Just one more Sy,” You whispered against the shell of his ear, a whimper escaping him as the sensation sent goosebumps cascading over his whole body, “Please. For me?”

And it was horribly unfair, wholly inhumane to ask him for anything when you looked so pretty and perfect, Sylus swore he’d died and gone to heaven with his last orgasm, he was sure you were an angel, he could practically see the golden little halo around your head. How could he say no?

“One more, anything for you, sweetie.” He babbled, finding a second wind as your lips trailed down the side of his neck in sloppy, wet kisses, bucking his hips to meet your strokes half way, ever the good listener.

He was hot to the touch, so fucked out that he could feel that warm coiling in his stomach pulling taut every time you squeezed your warm, cum covered palm around him.

“Baby.” He whined in your ear, your hand focusing on his over sensitive tip. His head lolled back, silver hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as he expressed soft little mewls from the confines of his throat.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of superiority as you realized you were the only person who could and would ever see Sylus this way. The only person who could bring the big, bad leader of Onychinus to his fucking knees, begging you to do whatever you wanted to him.

A sick sense of pride twisted inside you as you dipped down again, licking a stripe down the shell of his ear, nibbling on the lobe before getting as close as you could.

“Now cum.” Just those two seductive little words falling from your lips had him seeing stars, tears of overstimulated pleasure making their way down his perfect face all while holding eye contact (when he could keep them open). The look of surprise on his face when only two small rivulets shoot their way out of his pretty pink tip and oozes down your knuckles, his body wracking and bucking with all he had left.

You smile, kissing his cheek, “So five back to back is your limit, huh?”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

sorry i just think Sylus would be a switch but mostly your submissive bf who lets you do anything and everything you want to him <3

[endorphins-assembly-line]

i saw this on my feed and how about sextherapist!sylus and virgin!reader that struggles with making themselves orgasm? you can go from there 🤗

warnings. — ☆ fem! reader, sēx therapist sylus, virgín reader, praise, dirty talk, semi public, first time squírt, fıngering, mdni.

“oh, so you really weren’t kidding—were you, kitten?” sylus hums, feeling you writhe around his lap in anticipation. you’re so up close to him as your back’s facing the opposite way of his chest. in the far distance, you hear a plethora of noises coming outside of his office. meaningless chit chatter from his coworkers, loud stomps echoing down the hall, his annoying fax machine that forevermore continues to spit out those same clicking cries, and so on. you’ve been attending sessions with sylus for quite some time now, and you just needed to know how to orgasm properly. you tried everything and nothing would work. according to you, it was dire and you wanted to know if it was as good as people say. “daydreamin’ again?” he coos huskily, hot breath colliding near the twitching shell of your ear. a veiny hand of his softly trails down your inner thighs, glancing at your slid to the side panties. “ah, look at her. she’s so gorgeous.”

“sylusss,” you hiss out his name, gingerly wrapping your clammy fingers around his broad cuffed wrist. “hurry up.”

the white haired man snickers at your agitation, and once he teasingly ghosts two thick fingers over your throbbing protected entrance—his chest rumbles from wry laughter. “my, you’re so impatient. but fine, fine. spread these pretty legs, let me see what we’re workin’ with.”

right away, you sprawl your legs out even further then before and you hear him whistle.

“what a sight,” he purrs, and your head slumps back against his chest. it was almost half past ten at night and sylus was technically off work. your session ended about an hour ago but you just persisted that you needed one more thing.

an orgasm.

your nostrils smell his musky scent of loud rich leather and sandalwood that’s smothering all over his clothing. he brushes a thumb over the lace fabric of your panties before feeling just how soaked you were. “cute, bet you were soaked like this the entire time we were chattin’, hm?”

“f- fuck,” you swallow, and a plump tip of his finger gradually pulls at the string of your underwear. you remain laid back against his lap, gnawing at the bars of your enclosure.

the two of you were sitting on a fat cushioned sofa that’s dipping inward from the heavy pounds of weight. sylus was slow — painfully slow, he knew what he was doing. he lets out a raspy chortle, hearing your slow needy breaths featuring each exasperated gasp that leaves from your lips. “sylus, please.” you moan through gritted teeth, the wait just becoming unbearable.

sylus shushes you, pressing his soft lips up near the sloping nape of your neck. “there there,” and he talks over your whines before within seconds, a finger slowly inserts its way inside. you gasp, feeling your tummy heave. his finger was long, not only that but it was very very thick. you started to hear your heartbeat dramatically thump through your ears as he continues to speak. “pay attention now, this right here?” and you whimper, feeling his middle finger swirl around inside of your pussy. he taps against a spot that makes you feel almost every nerve shoot your body. “this is the clit, kitten. and this,” and you moan, hearing the sloshing sounds of your own mess fill the room. sylus gradually plugs in another finger - his pointer finger, and it fully extends immediately, reaching a spongy spot. “this is my favorite, your pretty g-spot.”

“s- sylus,” you suck in a frustrated breath, realizing that he had not one but two fingers inside. he’s very gentle regardless . . gentle and undeniably slow. oh, the wait was killing you. with your flapping lashes fluttering back against your hooded eyelids, you couldn’t help but gnaw at your quivering bottom lip. this was so much better than your own fingers. his was far longer and experienced. his plump lips starts to kiss near your neck this time, softly lolling his tongue down your skin, craving more of your sweet taste. “more, f- finger me.”

“yes ma’am,” he jibes, and it takes him a few dreadfully long seconds before he’s finally making haste. the tone of sylus’s voice was so deep that it nearly shakes you to the very core—you feel his exact rough vibrato against you. he hears the irregular changes of your breathing whilst his fingers continue to roam inside of your cunt.

“mhm, there’s about over ten thousand pretty little nerves stored up in here,” and he’s just casually talking over your babbling whines. the tips of his fingers were now already so soaked with your sappy slick. it’s gluing against his digits effortlessly — sweet like honey. your folds were just drooling, and every so often, he pulls his fingers out just to stare at the slippery sloppy mess. “how’s it feel? talk to me, sweet girl.”

as your body resumes to tingle from the circular maneuvers of his two fat digits, you let off a loud moan, peering at your left thigh that’s starting to mercilessly shake. “good—fuck, so good,” you whine, the stimulation making you merely bite down on your tongue. sylus hums in amusement, noticing how your thighs would just fail to stay still—it’s cute, you’re a jittery mess but your hand finds it’s way wrapping around his wrist again. “faster,” you plead, and your eyes nearly roll back once he’s just repeatedly toying with your precious g-spot.

again, and again, and again.

your gummy walls accepted sylus’s fingers freely and it was so snug, your mouth can’t help but start to salivate once you realize you’re coming close. he’s quick, plummeting such inches of just two simple digits in and out of you at such a maddened pace. he’s using his entire wrist, his finger work had your toes curling in awe.

“ah, easy now kitten. just relax and bare around ��em. there’s no rushing a pretty pussy this sloppy,” and he’s speaking right up against your ear again. if you weren’t throbbing then, you definitely were now. sylus even licks against the edge of your ear, giving it a playful nibble. “c’mooon, give me that orgasm, uh huh. make me proud, sweetie.”

“hngh, s-sylus,” you whimper out loudly, your entire body growing tense. sylus’s free hand creeps toward your tummy, softly caressing against your bare skin that’s loosely tucked underneath your blouse. this was so risky. anyone could just walk in and see you - you and him, but you didn’t care—you didn’t care, especially when you were so close to making a mess all his sofa. “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“let go for me,” he whispers, and his tone was so soothing. it’s almost as if he wasn’t inches deep inside of your swollen pulsating cunt with two thick fingers. in and out, he’s shoving them in and out of you, twisting them around and curling them all throughout your gripping walls. fuck, your toes were scrunched up, feeling such rippling waves surge through you. you were almost positive that if it wasn’t for the help of his hand holding you steady in place against his lap, you’d fall right from his grasp. sylus brings one final kiss toward the back of your collarbone before humming. “atta girl. just give it to me. c’mon, all on my fingers.”

but abruptly, right as you’re coming undone, you feel yourself spraying your translucent slick all on his pumping fingers. a shrieking scream dies from the back of your throat and he finds it oh so cute.

sylus feels you pulsing around him and he grows quiet—you huff out heavy heaving breaths, realizing that you’re squirting. it only lasts for a few seconds but it felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “oh my g- godddd.” you collapse back against his chest, his fingertips delicately plying with your prodding g-spot for just a few seconds longer before he pulls them out. slowly, sylus retracts his digits out of your puffy cunt, watching how it’s now glistening with your honeyed sap.

“aw,” he breaks the silence, hearing your pussy squeal again with numerous squelches as he’s dragging out his two drenched fingers. you’re still so sensitive, it’s like your entire body was burning up with fiery scorching hot heat. it’s intense, your thighs shamelessly try to squeeze themselves shut whilst you’re just rigorously shuddering on his lap. “would you look at thaaaat,” and his arms wrap around you. “such a good girl. although you’ve made quite the mess.”

in the midst of him sweet talking, praising you and all, you’re panting heavily. your sighing chest’s raising up and down as you’re just laid out on his lap, exhausted. as you’re chasing your own scurried breaths, sylus kisses the top back of your head. “again,” you moan, a strain in your voice. despite how your legs were still shivering—you craved more, you wanted to orgasm like that over and over. “t- teach me how to do again.”

“to squirt?” sylus raises a snowy white brow, turning you around to face him. his crimson eyes bore into yours and there’s that same sly smile stretching across his lips once you desperately nod. “hm, alright. but this time, i just might have to teach you with my tongue,” and you feel yourself throb once he’s slowly making you recline yourself back against his velvet-colored settee. “now lie back kitten, doctor’s orders. .”

[endorphins-assembly-line]

thinking of Sylus holding you down by the hips, grinding against the mattress, eating your sweet pussy muttering against it 'mm my love, you taste divine can't believe I went a week without your taste' tasting your essence to the point Sylus is drunk from the taste pulling you into overstimulation as he pulls orgasm after orgasm 'missed you so much kitten'

[endorphins-assembly-line]

"just one more" - xavier x reader

˗ˏ✎ synopsis: when xavier goes too long without a taste of you there's nothing you can do to dissuade his eagerness once he finally gets it again.

˗ˏcontent - 18+, overstimulation, dubcon (xavier doesnt listen to readers pleads to stop), pussy eating, xavier accidentally cums twice, pussy slapping, hair pulling, slight dacrophilia - wc; 1553 ˎ ˗

“I know you have at least one more for me. Come on, angel, you're doing so well.” Xavier whispers against you.

All you can manage is a soft whine and a long string of curse words in response. Your mind spins and your chest heaves as you try your best to relax, but taking shallow breaths is all you can manage in your current state. Your attempts to get Xavier to slow down by clawing your hands through his hair and pushing him away are met with a low growl and three not so gentle slaps to where his lips were making you feel so good just two seconds ago.

“Don't push me away before I'm finished. You taste so good, it's not fair.” His eyes narrow, watching and waiting to see if you'll pull your hands away and hold them behind your head, like he told you to do the last time you tried to push him off because you were too sensitive.

He smiles a wicked smile when your fingers release his hair. You almost manage to roll your eyes at his overt cockiness but then his mouth wraps around your swollen clit, and all you're able to do is screw your eyes shut as a broken moan escapes from between your drool covered lips.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, need you like this everyday.” He murmurs against your pussy.

His tongue rolls over your clit, already so spit covered and sensitive that just one lick has your legs spasming. Xavier's free hand clamps down over your lower stomach, trapping your hips in place. You wonder for a brief second why he didn't just use both hands to hold you by your thighs, and then he moans against your pussy, his breath hot, and you realise—the ringing in your ears from the overwhelming sensation of your last orgasm finally ceasing enough that you can hear clearly—that the hand you thought was free is actually wrapped around his cock. And it's pumping his length at a rather wicked pace.

The sight has your eyes rolling back in your skull. Xavier kneels at your feet, his face is hidden between your thighs, you can see a sheen of sweat glistening on his face. The vein at the side of his neck is pulsing wildly and the fingers that don't hold his cock flex before finding a hold in the flesh of your hip. They're definitely going to leave crescent shaped indents, but at this point, he couldn't care less.

The taste of you on his tongue is enough to drive him insane at the best of times. But he's been without it for almost a full week—not through either of your faults—and so this afternoon he's being a bit more… attentive.

“You can't let me go this long again. Ever. I can't,” he presses his tongue to your aching hole and licks three long, delicious stripes upwards, “I can't go without the taste of you, it's all–it’s the only thing that keeps me awake.”

“B-baby, plea–ah!” Your voice cracks.

Your attempt to plead with Xavier gets cut off when he abruptly forces your legs to clamp shut around his head by pressing a needy kiss to your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

It's as if he's annoyed at himself for being apart from your lips for so long, you can hear him growling and groaning as he wraps his lips back around your swollen clit. The suction has you seeing stars, it's as if a shot of pure fire runs through your veins and all you can do is hold on and wait for it to burn out. The heat is stifling. A bead of sweat travels down your chest, you can feel it tickling the skin.

That familiar coil of pleasure begins to tighten in your core, but there's no way for you to convey this to Xavier, who is far too distracted to notice the signs. All he can focus on is the way you feel under his tongue, and the fact that he wants you there forever.

He whines against your pussy, your smell too good, your taste too sweet. And as he begins to bob his head up and down, with your deliciously sensitive bud caught in his lips, he fails to notice his own orgasm threatening to wash over him. His hand continues pumping his aching cock without so much as a thought, all he can do is chase the high your pussy gives him. He doesn't notice when his cock begins to throb, he doesn't notice when his breath begins to hitch and so, of course, he doesn't notice when his orgasm finally crashes over him.

Thick ropes of cum paint the edge of the sofa. The hot, sticky liquid covers his hand and his wrists and drips onto his thighs. But he doesn't stop. Too preoccupied with sucking you off. Too in love with your sweet sounds of pleasure.

Just one more. He thinks. Just one more time and she'll be ready. Just one more and that'll be enough.

But it's never enough. No matter how many times he makes you cum.

The more desperate you seem, the more tired and sore and teary eyed you get, the more he wants to keep going.

Your fists gather in his hair again, but this time—your brain is too overwhelmed and tired to think of much—with little consideration to his pain. You gather the strands and hold on as tight to his skull as you can manage, attempting to anchor yourself to him. His tongue swirls and licks as he bobs up and down and the thought of him—Xavier, your colleague and partner and lover and overly jealous boyfriend—sucking you off is enough to get you hurtling towards your fifth orgasm of the day.

The stars behind your eyes erupt again, their light is bright and blinding. Your words come out in wheezing breaths, “Xav… I–I… Ah–cumming…”

He's aware enough to hear you speak, your last word sending a final jolt of energy through him—like a runner who gets a spur of energy when they catch a glimpse of the finishing line. His suction on your clit remains steady, but his head moves just that little bit faster.

And the change of pace is all you need.

The coil tightens.

You cum with a whisper-shout of his name and your hands in his hair. And Xavier never relents. He works you through it all, mouth never leaving you as you curse and whine and kick your feet wildly. He finds your overstimulated body so cute. Knowing you can't keep still, knowing your voice is hoarse and your chest is heaving and your eyes are wet, all for him—because of him—makes him follow your lead.

He cums for a second time.

But this time, he notices.

His moans sweep across the room, he shudders as the pleasure overtakes his body. There's no need for him to ignore his pleasure this time, so he doesn't. His hand keeps pumping his sticky cock, working himself to the brink at the same time he works you to the brink. He runs his thumb over his sensitive head and his body jolts at the sensation.

He doesn't stop until your body goes limp. He waits until you're too tired to keep holding on, too tired to fight him, before releasing your clit from between his lips. His cock—which is somehow still hard despite his two consecutive orgasms—stands to attention between his legs, dripping with pre and cum. Your legs droop over the edge of the sofa, your hands rest at your sides.

Xavier sits up onto his knees, his eyes lingering on your swollen clit and the mess you've left on the cushions.

“My starlight,” he whispers, running his clean hand over your face, “you are so beautiful.”

You whimper, the compliment causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“I'm sorry I made such a mess…” He says, a bashful, sincere look on his face.

“Xav…” you smile, heat creeping up your neck.

He coughs, a rose tint covering his face. “But… I told you.”

You narrow your eyes, confused.

“I told you…” He continues, “that you had at least one more for me.”

He smiles that wicked smile again, as you roll your eyes at him, still too tired to do much more than lightly shove at his shoulder.

He almost loses his balance and as he rocks back onto his feet his hand disappears from your face. The loss of contact makes him pout, his lips are glossy and the spit makes them look deliciously pink.

“Come back here,” he says, before plunging towards you and nuzzling his head against your chest.

You're tempted to giggle. The sound is right on the edge of your lips, but when he presses a delicate kiss to your skin you find the sound is stolen from you.

“I'm right here,” you whisper against his head.

He hums in response before wrapping his arms around your overworked body. It can't be comfortable for him, he's part way between kneeling on the floor and sitting on the sofa with you, but you don't tell him to move. You let him stay with you, nuzzling and placing soft kisses to your skin whenever he feels the need.

[endorphins-assembly-line]

♯    LADs Men Visuals . . .

pairing ⋮ separate LADs x fem!reader     ⟢

syn ⋮ smut , mdi 18+ , imagine them spreading you wide open and fucking you here and there     ˎˊ˗

cw / tags ⋮ twt porn links obv , fingering , missionary , titplay , spanking , oral , cowgirl , humping , creampie

Caleb ⟢

- all these years and he couldn't wait, now he finally gets to shove his cock in and out your pussy after a long leave

- what he's sending you in his bathroom because he can't fuck you atm; he's so hard :/

- you asked for it; caleb tying you up and fucking your guts out

- dryhumping your childhood friend's thigh because you're so horny and needy :(

- rutting behind you against the drawers in the other room and hoping gran doesn't hear

- fingering and humiliating you in front of the mirror because his best friend is so prettyyyyy

Sylus ⟢

- straddling sylus as he massages your pretty tits

- how he has you on the couch after a long day

- sylus after beating down on his cock because he misses you so much; pls come back to him </3

- devouring your pussy like he's a starving and dying man; he hopes luke and kieran can hear the both of you through the wall

- he loves rubbing your clit as he fucks you nicely after tearing off your favorite lingerie

- you deserve getting a spanking after being so annoying and naughty to sylus

Xavier ⟢

- slow and soft missionary before bedtime because he missed you so much <3

- making him cum through his boxers because you're both too lazy and tired to take everything off

- getting too excited and having you in so many ways against the walls

- sweet morning sex because he can't get enough of you

- xav got bored and wanted to send something teasing for not giving him a goodbye kiss this morning

- he loves how squishy and soft your ass is while he has you over his lap and his finger digging inside your pussy

Rafayel ⟢

- getting spread out and whining for rafayel to breed you

- acting like an annoying brat and denying that you'll cum for him... he'll prove you wrong

- you were being mean to him earlier so now he has to be even meaner by fucking your back

- rafa loves the noises you make when he suck and teases your nipples with his tongue

- he's imagining that his sucky silicon toy is your ass :(

- guiding you kindly to take his cock in so many ways

Zayne ⟢

- zayne cumming inside his sweetheart after her desperate pleas and begging >_<

- dolled up for him after a short shift for funsies, now he has you over the armrest

- rubbing dr zayne's boner before work so he can be hard and thinking about you for the rest of the day

- breeding you in broad daylight after a long week working at the hospital ^_^

- fucking you with just his thumb after you were being a brat the whole day and sending him teasing photos at work

- car sex under the rain after a romantic date night with zayne <3

[endorphins-assembly-line]

tuesdays.

꒰ your roommate xavier is odd and quite specific. ꒱

𖥔 ݁ 12.5k. no evol, roommates to lovers au. video game developer x student mc/reader. xavier is a shy guy. rafayel cameo as your quirky neighbor. xavier and mc cook together. somewhat slow burn? domestic fluff. misunderstandings. jealousy. light angst. humor. ❀ ݁ this is old, very old. n i've re-written it for several fandoms atp but it belongs to xavier now n this is the last time i'll put it out there lmao.

mdni.

having xavier as a roommate doesn’t necessarily cause you any problems in your everyday life, but boy is he a rather peculiar man from time to time.

sharing space with him is an overall easygoing and even enjoyable experience due to his reserved and borderline reclusive nature.

he’s quiet, rarely has guests, and doesn’t pester you. he’s also quite domestic, which seems to indirectly benefit you. his areas are well-kept and consistently clean. he stays on top of household finances and shopkeeping. he enjoys cooking and often feeds you. 

when you’re gone for the entire day from morning until night, either at work or shuffling through campus, you come home to an extra serving waiting for you. though, he’s never anywhere in sight. ( admittedly, you did eat his extras without permission the first time, but now, he delegates them to you in space-themed bento box you think he’s had since he was a boy. )

considering he sleeps quite early in order to wake up at the first breath of every morning, and you finally consume your second meal of the day alone in the dimly lit kitchen at 11:30 pm, there’s never  an appropriate time to thank him. so, you instead leave a sticky note that reads, ‘thank you for the food. i ate well!’ on the coffee machine, the first place he looks each morning. you know this because every day, promptly at 7:15 am, you’re roused from your slumber by the pleasant aroma of coffee brewing and clinging to the air, seeping through all the walls. it’s a habit of his that cultivates comfort, a sense of home. you don’t even like coffee, but his routine is oddly like an alarm, a signal to your body that the day is beginning and rising with him. shortly after his brew begins, your eyes flutter open, humming contentedly as you take in the scent and stretch the sleep out of your limbs. xavier is kind enough. he doesn’t make many demands of you and asks for a reasonable amount to rent his spare room. of all the people and places you could have secured last-minute housing for university, you’re quite fortunate to end up with xavier. 

he’s a simple guy, not one for many words, communicating in mostly happy hums, gentle sighs, and soft nods ( when you actually see him come slinking out of his bedroom or enter quietly from wherever he spends his day, that is. ) but despite being mostly pleasant and tolerable, he still has these oddities that make you quirk a brow at him, utterly perplexed. firstly, he nitpicks the number of paper towels you use at once. on one of the rare occasions you mutually linger in the common space other than tuesday, you have the audacity to wash your hands in front of him — dry them, no less. naturally, like any other, you grab paper towels to dry, and you feel his eyes locked on your side profile, watching diligently from the dining table. his eyes, little seas you can drown in, shamelessly bore into you. he analyzes you carefully — judges you.

you meet his eyes slowly, unusually nervous. you feel as if you’re being heavily and thoroughly scrutinized. his displeasure pierces the air with terrifying persistence.

“uh…is everything okay?” “you use a lot of paper towels at once.” he notes quietly, never tearing his gaze from yours. “it’s pretty wasteful.” he admittedly didn’t state it with malice, only moderate concern at best. when he says it, you look down between your palms where a bundle of paper towels are bunched.

you can admit it’s more than you actually needed, but it’s such an odd thing to want to observe and take note of, such a specific behavior to apply feedback to. you look back up at him, blinking slowly. “sorry?” you offer half-heartedly. “is there a certain amount you’d like me to use at a time?” you try your damndest not to let the severity of your bubbling agitation show, but you hear it slip in the way you offer him a careless apology and defensive inquiry about a solution. to your dismay, xavier only hums, ignoring your attitude and seriously considering your notion. “ideally, paper towels should only be used for spills and messes, so as to not permanently stain our cloth towels. considering there are two hundred and eight sheets in total, at an average cost of five diamonds per roll, making each sheet worth just under two-point-five gold, it’d be objectively more cost-efficient and environmentally friendly if you…placed a cloth towel there specifically to dry your hands and include it in your laundry cycle regularly. that’s what i do. it’s…the most reasonable option.” “uh…huh.” you say it slowly, trying to wrap your mind around why it took a boy who hardly ever speaks so many words to arrive at a simple conclusion: put a hand towel there instead. “i’ll put a towel there. i’m sorry for being wasteful.” he nods, his hard gaze softening and moving back to previous stimuli. “thank you for acknowledging my concern.” in truth, you don’t even get a chance to add a towel. xavier does it himself. the next time you’re in the kitchen, you notice he’s left an additional towel hanging right next to his, identical. the sight of it causes you to shake your head and chuckle to yourself, lips tilting into a grin. 

peculiar boy.

coupled with his obtuse observational interests is xavier’s odd attachment to tiny, mundane instances inside his routine. specifically, everyone coming home on time. every tuesday you only have a single class in the morning, and you also have a day off from your part-time job. so, you usually stroll back into the apartment by mid-afternoon. xavier is never there when you arrive, and you don’t know much about what he does with his time during the day. at most, you know he’s already graduated university. you know he must make decent money considering his capacity for keeping the entire house’s basic needs met. you figure he has to do something during the daytime.

that, or it’s nepotism.

what it is? you’re uncertain, but he always carries a backpack stuffed full, and his laptop is always tucked securely under his arm within a protective sleeve. xavier is a habitual creature through and through, dancing in the spaces of predictability with perceivable glee. he arrives back home by 4:30 consistently. by that time, you’re usually engrossed in a book, spread out on the living room floor studying, or curled up on the couch watching dramas whenever he finally arrives. you never make eye contact or redirect your attention from what it’s already fixated on, but you do always absentmindedly greet him the same way each time: “welcome home.”

he always gives you a small hello and immediately retreats to his room without another word. sometime around six, he emerges from his room and comes to the common space to ask if you want dinner. tuesday evening is the only occasion during the week you’re able to try the things he makes fresh, rather than reheating them. and you both sit in an incredibly comforting, idle silence while you eat. there’s never expectations to entertain one another or engage in meaningless small talk. you compliment his meal, thank him, and tell him you ate well. it’s never a lie. xavier is an exceptional cook. but on one particular tuesday in question, he comes stumbling into the apartment at 2:45 pm, significantly earlier than usual, and he’s in an evident frenzy. he comes in, kicks his shoes off at the door with little regard ( entirely unlike him ), and moans begrudgingly as he shuffles back toward his room, defeat loud and palpable.

“welcom—” the greeting dies on your lips, hearing his long string of audible dread and looking after him as he scurries down the hall. “xavier?” you call after him. you watch his tall figure pause and turn back towards you when he hears you, his cerulean eyes round and wide with apprehension and fear. “yes?” “rough day?” you ask him softly, trying not to overwhelm him even more. “you’re home pretty early and you have this distinct look of terror.” you try to joke lightheartedly, but he sighs in response, looking down at his feet. “it is a rough day and it’s only going to get worse. i don’t know what to do.” “do you need help with something?” “i…i think so? i have friends coming over. i’ve never had anyone over here. i don’t…do that. i’ve never made that much food. i feel like i won’t be able to get done in time and clean myself up.” “you seem really stressed out about this. how many people are coming?” “…two,” he answers sheepishly. “but additional mouths to feed means more time and honestly, i don’t have any time. i left work early so i could try to make this happen, but now it means i’m going to be behind on the schedule i put together for my project and this is…it’s…it’s fussing up my routine. that's making me stressed. i’m sorry. i’m sorry . i know i’m just blubbering and prattling right now.” “xavier,” you say softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. “it’s okay. i get it. i hate when my day gets thrown off, too. i’m not doing anything particularly important if you want help with making dinner. are there things you need from the store or anything? i can take care of that while you wash up and relax for a bit.”

he’s quiet for a moment as if he doesn’t know what to say. he just stares at you with an unreadable expression, nods once — quite curtly — and turns back toward his room. you don’t take it any kind of way, knowing he often responds pretty similarly. you figure he just isn’t used to requesting or receiving help, but it’s fine. you can and will follow through. xavier doesn’t realize what a load he takes off your shoulder by providing you with regular meals. in your mind, the least you can do is eat well, be mindful of your paper towel use, and offer helpful hands when applicable. later when the two of you are prepping dinner and simultaneously trying to make the apartment feel ‘guest ready’, you keep noticing him glance over at you, but he doesn’t speak. actually, he hardly says anything at all the entire time you work together. it’s such a strange contradiction. he presents himself as shy and reserved because he simply dosen’t speak, but when he does speak, he seems to talk a mile a minute or be unnecessarily long-winded at an average speed. there isn’t really an in-between thus far, and you’d lived with him for nearly a year. unable to endure any more of his silent but blatant gazes, you snap your head to him, a little curious and also frustrated. “why are you staring at me? did i do something again?” “no,” his head shakes as he blinks, seeming a bit taken aback by your tone. “i was…thinking that i’m really grateful that you were willing to help me with this. i don’t have enough time to finish all my work. i don’t have enough time to see my friends or have dinner with them. i don’t have enough time to spend with myself. but i’m trying to do it anyway because…it matters, you know? but i was…in a panic earlier. i get really stuck on my routines. inconsistencies just make my brain itch. i was feeling really overwhelmed and your offer to go gather the things i needed just so i could shower and breathe for ten minutes…meant…a lot to me. so…thank you. also…i’m sorry…for staring. i have this really bad habit of not knowing what to say, so i say nothing or… everything.”

to his apparent surprise, you giggle. his eyes widen a bit at the sound. “yeah, i noticed that about you, actually.” you place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “no problem. we’ve been here together for a while now, yeah? it’s only natural that sometimes we need to rely on each other. it’s kind of like how you leave me your extras from dinner for when i get home. i…otherwise would only eat once a day most days. i move around a lot. i forget about it, and by the time i get home, i’m too exhausted to make food. i’m grateful for how you’re willing to help me, too.” you didn’t expect to see his face flush red or for him to look down as if staring at his feet will make the bright, rosy tips of his ears disappear. 

“yeah…no problem. i guess you’re right.” “so…what is it that you do for work? what’s so time-consuming that you essentially have no life outside of it?” you ask. although you’re curious about his line of work, you ask him for his benefit, so he doesn’t feel embarrassed for feeling flustered after your exchange. you’re starting to figure out that although xavier appears and presents as if his lack of social involvement is a personal preference and choice, being a loner is not just a stylistic choice but an inevitable outcome.

he’s clearly socially inept. when you guys eat in thick silence, it’s not because he’s wading in an endless sea of comfortable notions and  doesn’t feel the need to speak. he doesn’t know what to say, so he opts for absolutely nothing. small talk is likely not something he’s familiar with or perhaps even cares about. he has to be coaxed out of his fretful foundation just to express that he needs help. he communicates in grunts, nods, and sighs because it’s easier than navigating a flow of back and forth in conversation. “i’m a video game designer. i…work on actions and movements mostly. the physics of it all. when characters engage in combat or how they interact with certain parts of the environment in open-world games? i’m part of the team that goes behind creating things like that. we give the characters life and motion. it’s…pretty cool considering it’s been my dream job since i was young, but it’s a lot of hard work. we’re working on a really important game right now. it could put our team on the map with. so,  i have to do my best. i can’t let my team down.” you hum, impressed. “that’s actually really cool. i kind of figured you were a nerd in some capacity. you’re a cool nerd with a cool job.” he laughs then, light and quiet but saccharine sweet. “i wouldn’t say i’m a nerd. i have a deep understanding of my personal interests. it doesn’t make me nerdy. just knowledgeable.”

you nod in agreement but hum in protest. “no, it doesn’t make you nerdy, but telling someone they use too many paper towels and proceeding to itemize the cost of a single sheet on a whim is…not, not nerdy.” you explain, clicking your tongue. he pouts. “i thought that information was relevant to helping you understand my stance.” “i would’ve understood even if you didn’t explain, xavier. it’s your apartment and you buy all the paper towels. it’s not wrong for you to, without explanation, tell me to be mindful of my excessive use.” xavier looks you over, his expression contorted by perceivable perplexity, lips pursed and eyes just staring at you while blinking blankly. “but you clearly were bothered by me bringing it up. that’s why i elaborated like that.” nonchalantly, you shrug. “i wasn’t bothered you brought it up. i just thought you were being peculiar. and you still haven’t been able to escape those allegations, by the way. it’s alright, though. even if we end up having to indict you for your oddities, i’ll still accept you.”

it’s quiet between you both then. xavier seems to have nothing else to offer to the little exchange, and that’s fine with you because when you peek at him again as he’s chopping vegetables, you notice his tiny smile. and you note that the subtle little smile doesn’t leave him for the entirety of the evening. you sit quietly on the opposite side of the room,  midding — uninvolved but happily present — observing him engage with his work friends, jeremiah and ulysses. he seems quite comfortable with them. his speech becomes fluid, easy, and even exciting at times. you see a little sparkle in his eyes when they talk about games and how jeremiah is close to finishing is personal passion project. 

xavier must love gaming a lot. you wonder if video game development is really his dream activity or just the dream career, and maybe his real passion is something more novel and less technical. regardless, you can’t help the sheer feeling of pride that swirls around in your chest seeing him like this: attentive, involved, lively. it gives you a subtle little smile of your own. and you note that it doesn’t leave you for the entirety of the evening.

among all other observations, the characteristic of xavier’s that confirms the strength of his quirkiness is how he’s suddenly far too concerned with how you spend your tuesdays. it starts the week after you help him prepare his tiny dinner party for his friends, the most peculiar aspects of his behavior. it’s all because on one particular tuesday in question, you never come home after class. 

your friend and co-worker, tara, has a date with a girl she’s been flirting with for a while, and you agree to switch shifts. today in exchange for a day you don’t have class and you can stay home, a fair and even trade. you’re tired, hanging on by a thread, but you really need the extra time for the week. ( you work as a waitress at a small restaurant near the university. most students dine between classes or on their lunches. it’s a small but heavily populated establishment. when you volunteer to work on busy days, your boss advances you what you make for that day at the end of the night. it has its perks and its pits. ) while cleaning off the table of a guest who just left, you receive repeated text messages, making your brows furrow as your phone shoots signal after signal in quick succession. who could possibly be texting you this urgently? no one ever does. you glance at the time. 4:32 pm. xavier usually wanders through the door right around now. your expression lifts in light shock as you see he happens to be the source of the incessant sounding.

4:32 pm  ⋮   xavier.

are you safe? you’re not at home. it’s tuesday. you’re usually home when i get here. my routine is thrown off.

you roll your eyes reading his messages. he’s being hyperbolic and overdramatic again, but for what? is it really so important that you’re there just to say two words he hardly acknowledges only to hole up in his room until he’s ready to make dinner? 

maybe this is his attempt at humor.

you chuckle at the thought of it. xavier is so socially awkward that his jokes don’t even land; they just float in the air, suspended by complexity until someone gets it.

4:34 pm  ⋮  you.

you’re being incredibly dramatic. i’m at work. very alive and well. making money to keep feeding us.

4:35 pm  ⋮  xavier.

objectively incorrect. i buy all of our food?

4:40 pm  ⋮   xavier. 

look. no one was here to welcome me home and now i’m back but don’t feel an ounce of welcome about it.

you laugh at his response, very heartily, right in the middle of a restaurant, inwardly beaming with pride because he made a joke. and it was actually kind of funny. only kind of. you start to wonder why it matters so much to you if he grows into himself and becomes comfortable enough to speak freely and easily. why do you feel so invested in his character development? regardless, you hope to see him come out of his shell more. it’s becoming of him.

4:42 pm  ⋮  xavier. 

will you make it in time for dinner or another long night?

4:44 pm  ⋮   you.

probably not. it’s pretty busy and we’re already short-staffed. another long night. aiming to be back by ten tonight. i have homework due at midnight.

4:45 pm  ⋮ xavier.

okay…understood. godspeed.

work goes by as it does. it’s always the same formula and equation, just different bodies and times of day. you finally come strolling home at 10:05 pm. you’re dead tired and knowing you still have to finish your homework and submit it is making the exhaustion feel heavier than it probably is. when you head inside, you expect it to be dark, only the light above the stove left on as per usual, but instead, all of the lights are on. the tv is chattering with excitement, playing some kind of variety show, and there’s a spicy, thick aroma in the air that makes you pause briefly to breathe it in. it’s so pleasant. and warm. you walk in, greeted by a scent that feels like a long embrace.

as you stroll through the door, you look to your immediate left where the open layout kitchen is placed. xavier stands next to the stove, chopping vegetables carefully on the counter. “welcome home.” he announces it casually, just as you always do for him, but doesn’t tear his attention away from his task. you don’t know what exactly this is, the shift in his behavioral pattern. you aren’t sure what to name the feelings that attach to it, either, but you appreciate it because today you have an anomaly of your own. you understand it right then: what he means when he says he came back but he didn’t feel welcomed home. you’re always only ‘coming back’ but walking in and being welcomed by him, it feels more like ‘coming home’. you note that there might just be a difference.   your voice is tepid and content when you finally speak. “hey, you’re up pretty late.” he only hums in response. you wander over to him, keeping a good grip on all your belongings. “cooking dinner at this hour? pretty unlike you. huh, your routine really did get messed up.” his lips quirk. “yeah, i worked more when i came home instead of eating. i’m still catching up from last week. but i noticed i was starving and then i realized it was almost ten. so i figured i might as well just commit to a curve in my routine. but…what about yours?” his inquiry surprises you a little because he’s initiating small talk with you. at first, your lips just part. “my…routine? uh…yeah? it got thrown off majorly today. i have an assignment due by midnight. i thought i would turn it in by this afternoon, but i got paid in advance for this shift, so that was nice.” xavier abruptly stops cutting his carrots and places the knife down calmly. and then, he just looks at you. it was a very normal look that you could give anyone: stranger, acquaintance, or friend. it was just a simple look, but for some reason, when his eyes meet yours, your heart starts to pick up its rhythm, and you swear you can hear the thump of it crescendo in your ears. he’s so…handsome. it’s not that you’ve never looked at him before. it’s not that you aren’t already aware that he’s a good-looking man. anyone with eyes and reason can see that. it’s just that right now you’re looking at him and he seems like his features have changed, like someone raised the saturation and clarity on his existence. his jawline seems sharper. his soft, blue eyes seem more potent, gleaming cooly. his lips are supple, pink, pouty, and curved quite romantically. he looks like a walking beckoning for affection. his pearly hair is tousled, all in disarray, like he’s been running his fingers through tirelessly. his clothes seem to cling to the thickness of his frame, outlining the definition of his thin but muscular build. he quite obviously works out. you didn’t notice that before, the way fabric bulges around his arms and shoulders. his feathery lashes flutter around lapis when he blinks, all that angelic beauty swirling around so casually. you haven’t looked at him this thoroughly before.

god, he’s pretty. 

“you should make sure you respect your resting day routines. you seem to work really hard with…everything you’re doing.” xavier’s voice is soft and caring, cradling his own declaration tenderly. smiling, you nod, swallowing down how flustered suddenly you feel inside, hoping the quickening of your breath doesn’t give it away. “i hear you. it was a one-time thing anyway. now…need help?” “don’t you have homework?” his voice is perplexed. “go work on it. i’ll call you when i’m done.” to this, you reject his suggestion with a shake of your head. “no can do. i think i’m too tired and will take my loss with grace for the sake of a decent meal before midnight. i’ll ask again…need help?” you don’t say what you really mean right then: i think i’d rather spend time in silence with you. it looks like he’s only barely started, likely working on a base for some sort of soup. he has so many scraps laid out everywhere. xavier clears his throat. “uh…yeah…yeah, i do.”

“on it,” you say resolutely. “let me put my stuff up and change. it’ll only take me five and i’ll be back to help.”

after that, you don’t see xavier for the rest of the week. tuesday is really the only day your schedules coordinate enough to see each other even in passing. you don’t miss how disappointment settles in your chest every single time you wander inside at ten or eleven and you don’t see him standing there in the kitchen, back turned to you, nonchalantly welcoming you home. you don’t miss the way you stop yourself from texting him and telling him exactly what he told you: look. no one is here to welcome me back home and now i’m back but don’t feel an ounce of welcome about it. but on the following monday, you receive a surprising notification.

1:08 pm  ⋮  xavier.

i would like to formally request permanent assistance with dinner on tuesday evenings. unless work or other contractual obligations prevent participation. it is much more efficient with two sets of hands. and since we both eat, it’s the most ethical and fair.

his formality makes you giggle, as it’s so aligned with who you now understand him to be. once again, smiling fondly to yourself, you think of what a peculiar boy he is. his request at its core is perfectly fair. he does buy all the food and cook it but you both enjoy the fruits of his labor. so if it’s a regular thing, you realistically should help him without a single qualm. that’s the line of reasoning you offer for the sheer speed of your response, agreeing to give away all your foreseeable tuesdays to him: in all fairness.

1:09 pm ⋮ you.

sure thing xavi.

you don’t miss the way it’s the first time you’ve ever called him by or given him any kind of nickname. you don’t miss the way you feel nervous to send it, as if being denied casual exchanges with him will have a significant impact on your emotions. now you’re the one acting peculiarly. for three weeks, on three consecutive tuesdays, you and xavier rally together in the kitchen, pick a recipe to follow, assign your roles, complete your duties, and successfully make meals together around six o’clock. for three consecutive tuesdays, you sit together at the table and eat well, sometimes in silence, but sometimes in comfortable, slow-paced conversation. the most surprising evolution is the budding presence of his attempts at small talk. “i don’t know how i feel about this recipe.” xavier admits after devouring the meat he’s made. “i don’t care for this marinade at all.” you, mouth full and consumption bordering barbaric, look confused. when you swallow, you have to inquire about why he feels this way. it’s quite delicious. and you can’t fathom him not liking it considering he ate all of it. “what? you didn’t like it? how? i think it’s incredible. probably your best yet. the meat is so, so tender and it’s very flavorful but not overwhelming. it pairs really well with this little sauce we made!” “you enjoyed it?” xavier asks. you notice then that he’s biting his lip rather nervously. “or are you only saying that because we spent a considerable amount of time on this one?” you grin, rolling your eyes. “why would i lie? you’re a good cook, xavi. seriously…i’ve never not enjoyed the food you’ve cooked. you did really well on the meat. and judging by your happy plate, i think you know that.” you figure out quickly that it isn’t that he doesn’t like it, but that he wants someone else to say he did a good job but doesn’t want to ask directly until an opinion is already offered.

he even seeks praise awkwardly. how endearing.

he doesn’t speak, only lowers his head with that subtle smile you’ve come to find yourself craving the sight of. admittedly, you enjoy this blooming tradition that the two of you are building. you feel excited for him to come home, eager for him to finish resting up and come out at six, ready to get started, ready to talk to you or just stand by your side. moreover, you really enjoy not eating dinner alone. you enjoy his proximity even in your settled silence. it always feels more like home when he’s here and you are, too, both parallel or perpendicular to the other. “this is nice.” you tell him warmly. “i kinda like our new tradition.” “oh,” he breathes softly. “i…” his head rises quickly and he looks at you, those icy eyes you’ve grown particularly fond of now slightly widened. you don’t know if you’re just seeing what your own unspoken feelings want to see, but it looks like longing looking back at you. his hand rests on the table and you glance down, only for a fraction of a moment, considering reaching your own out to find the answer to a theory you’ve constructed in the last few weeks: you think his hands might be incredibly soft. “well, um. i…that’s…good to know. i think that maybe…um, i…” ( your mind begs you to let it be known that he’s stammering and you’re staring, but your thoughts are ever so slightly somewhere else. ) you notice when he washes his hands, he pats them dry lightly with his towel. delicate. and he always opens the drawer below immediately after to pull out a tiny bottle of hand cream. every single time. habitual. he applies a dollop and rubs it all in gingerly. he makes sure to get all the nooks and crannies of his hands, the dips and the divots. thorough. patient. soft. satin. he seems to care a great deal about his hands, takes good care of them and the things they touch. you lick your lips and look away. “i’m sorry…i…uh…don’t know what to say i think and…” you cut him off. “is it a mutual understanding?” “what?” “do you…like our little tradition as well?” a slow, timid, soundless nod. you respond with tilted lips. “then…you can just say…i like it, too.” he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, but the look he gives you is becoming clearer, and you can’t look directly for too long or you’ll melt right before him.

xavier turns out to be a lot like the sun, and if you aren’t careful, your heart might try to become like spring and bloom for him. “i…like it, too.” he says finally. humming, you turn your attention back towards your food, looking away, and for the first time, being the one with nothing left to say. all the things you want to say officially teeter off the cusp of amiability and drop straight into a giant vat of arousal. after a moment, your body becomes so hot you can’t stand just sitting there anymore, so dinner ends abruptly with xavier telling you to leave your dishes and he’ll take care of them. you only nod and offer him a quiet thank you and a friendly goodnight. then you wander off to your room in a daze wondering if he noticed you squirming in your seat. he’s so domestic, you’re about to cum off the strength of existing in the same house as him. ( and that’s not good because you’re always in the same house as him. ) the things you watch him do in the kitchen, it’s all just so homely. there’s a kind of strength in a man who appreciates homemaking that makes you weak. telling you to make sure to preheat the oven, putting on his mitts to check on the food, setting timers, and tying an apron around his waist. cutting vegetables. using measuring cups. 

‘slice, not dice. here, let me show you. watch.’ 

the way his triceps and biceps flex at the motion of his very intentional cuts, the way he’s always rolling up his sleeves, even when they’re short-sleeved shirts like a goddamn tease, basically begging to be turned into a husband and a father overnight. 

it’s sickening. you officially want him so bad you want to throw up.

the orgasm you have in your room — stifling the sound of your moans and the sound of you quietly calling out his name when you did — spells it out quite clearly for you even if you don’t want to acknowledge it outright.

you like him. a lot. it’s absolutely sickening.

on thursday, another anomaly occurs in your schedule. a few actually, and all of them are pleasant. the first anomaly is relaxation. you don’t have class and since tara keeps up her end of the deal, you have an entire day at home to enjoy your alone time. but, as usual, you wake to the pleasant aroma of coffee. you smile even harder knowing there’s nowhere for you to be so you can move as quickly or as slowly as you like.

it means that maybe you can go have coffee with xavier before he leaves for the day. you don’t even like coffee, but you like him. and that’s more than enough reason to get you out of bed, tidy yourself a bit, and go sauntering out of your room to ask for a cup of hot liquid you’ll never consume. ( you’re more of a tea or hot chocolate kind of person, but there’s a first time for everything, and maybe having coffee will taste better if drinking it means spending even a fractal of time with him. ) this initiates the occurrence of the next anomaly. “good morning,” you say pleasantly. a yelp. a jolt. a wince. a hiss. a “fuck, fuck, fuck”. a resounding crash. the sound of shattered ceramic. xavier clearly isn’t expecting you to be up or to greet him. you wince at the sound of glass and lean over to see that he’s dropped and broken the mug he was holding: your mug. your favorite one. the one your grandmother made for you with her own two hands. there’s coffee pooling everywhere, all over the floor, and xavier moans dreadfully. “shit!” he exclaims. “you scared me. i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean…i didn’t mean to break it. i’m sorry. i really am.” the mug means the world to you, as your grandmother’s much older now and unable to craft little items for you like this anymore. it’s the only one of its kind. the only one that would ever be. and now it’s in pieces on the kitchen floor, a little sea of java surrounding the sad, jagged portions of loving sentiment. “i’m sorry i scared you.” you say softly, trying hard not to cry. you don’t want to make him feel bad. you don’t want him to feel bad at all. “it’s okay, xavi. it’s okay. i’ll get towels.” once you grab towels and come back to help him clean it up, he’s deep in a spell of unnerved groaning — a long, drawn-out whine that goes on under his breath for a while. “please don’t be upset.” he pleads, frowning. “i’m so, so sorry.” you smile softly, shaking your head. “i’m not upset, xavi. are you hurt at all? from the coffee? i heard you hiss.” “i’m okay. it splashed on me, but it didn’t burn me or anything.” you place the two large towels down to soak up all the liquid on the ground. xavier focuses on picking up each piece of the broken mug. as you watch him through the top of your eyes, you wonder just why he’s using your mug to begin with. “i’m not used to you being awake so early.” he admits, slightly embarrassed of how a simple good morning resulted in this. “but…good morning to you, too.” you just can’t help it. you giggle. peculiar boy. “if you want…you…you can pick one of my mugs to take in its place.” he offers, biting his lip. you nod and say okay for a few reasons: 1. you absolutely want something of his and it’s a microscopic guilty desire you have. 2. he seems like it’ll bother him a lot if he can’t rectify the situation in some way. you saying it’s okay doesn’t appear to suffice. 3. see reasons 1 and 2. 

as he’s showing you his plethora of available mugs, you catch yourself smiling. he has all of these mugs of his own, but…he was drinking his morning coffee out of yours. you survey them all and find only one that stands out. it’s a white, ceramic mug with the word ‘create’ etched messily into it. it’s oddly shaped, looking nearly homemade. irregular. odd. it’s the most xavier mug of them all. that’s the one you want. you point to it. “i’ll take that one.” you chirp.

for a brief moment, he hesitates, pouting cutely, but his lips slowly tilt upward.  “of course you will. that one’s my favorite. i made it in my high school art class, but…okay. okay. a mug for a mug. you can keep it. drink your coffee out of it well…and frequently…or it might start to feel neglected. it’s an extroverted kind of mug.” if you knew it wouldn’t result in one of the most blatant forms of rejection you’ll ever face, because xavier is nothing if not brutally honest, maybe you would have kissed him right then. it would be hard not to if you knew with unearned confidence that he wouldn’t push you away. but, instead, you quietly take the mug and you’ll use it well just as he asks. and maybe he’ll try to sneak in a hidden smile by just lifting the corner of his lips. and maybe you’ll spot his dimple because of it, the one that likes to hide the same way your feelings do. and maybe the sight of it will make your heart flutter and your breath hitch. and maybe it ( in its own way ) could be just as good as a kiss. a homemade mug for a homemade mug.

you have a feeling you’ll keep it closer than anything else. “want to have coffee before you leave for work?” you ask, even knowing well that you’ll be wasting even more than he has, even knowing how upset he’ll be if he figures you out. but it feels worth it when he nods, offering you that coy smile you silently plead for nowadays. and you both do, in the soft lull of the morning, sit at the table over a cup of coffee. you even steal glances every now and then. when he asks why you haven’t touched your drink, you lie and say you prefer it with creamer, to which he turns his nose up in disgust. “creamer is a forbidden substance in this house.” he informs you. “but…if…if it really is a deal-breaker for your coffee enjoyment…i’ll make sure to get you some. what kind do you like?”

the next time you go grocery shopping for us, honey? why don’t you just ask me to pop the question right now?

you don’t care for coffee. you don’t care for creamer, but you care very, very dearly about the prospect of xavier getting any kind of special thing for you, with you in mind, with the purpose of making an experience better for you. it makes you feel special to him. ( you know plenty of special things he can give you to make the experience better. and it didn’t even cost money. he can use his perfect hands as much as he likes. ) “hazelnut,” you lie with a smile. “that’s my favorite.”

the third anomaly occurs much later in the day when you’re home alone and you’re lounging in the living room, wondering if thursday will get to be a second tuesday with xavier since you’ll both be here. unexpectedly, there’s a knock at the door. your brows furrow. you didn’t order any food. you didn’t expect a delivery. xavier always tells you if anyone’s dropping by. when you walk up to the door and peep out, you see a remarkably handsome man standing on the other side. you open the door carefully, revealing a boy, likely around your age, with soft lilac hair that seems to take on a pearlescent tint in the light. a blend of amethyst and carnelian in his eyes and standing there with a kind smile that seems like it might dissolve anything in sight that just so happens to perceive it. 

he even has little dimples on his cheeks as he beams so pleasantly. he, much like xavier, is very pretty. “hi…can i…help you?” you ask timidly, not fully coming outside the crack in the door, only your head and a portion of your torso poking out. ( he might be attractive, but he’s still a stranger. ) he scratches the back of his head. “oh…uh, hi!…my name is rafayel? i just moved into that unit about a week ago.” he explains, jerking a thumb back towards his front door, #1103r, right across from you and xavier’s #1104r. 

“oh! i didn’t even know the unit was empty.” you laugh. “welcome to the complex…and the hall. it’s fairly quiet, so i hope you aren’t a partier.” laughing, he shakes his head. “a baker and a painter, not a partier. i spend my spare time making sweet treats. you might smell me baking a lot, though. i…uh…i actually was coming to ask if you had butter? or margarine? i’ve started making cupcakes, but i didn’t get butter at the store, and i didn’t want to leave out…because i already started. so, i figured i could come to introduce myself…and ask a neighborly favor?” 

he puts his hands together in a small plea.

wow, the boys in this building really do enjoy wholesome activities.

smiling, you nod. “sure, give me a second. i’ll be right back.” when you come back to the door with an entire package of butter, he smiles wide, making his eyes crinkle. “i hope that’ll be enough.” “more than, i’ll bring back what i don’t use.” he promises. “ah, you’re a lifesaver. thanks!”

“happy to help. welcome to the building, rafayel.” now, the exchange should be complete but he’s still just standing there. “well…if that’s all…” “what was your name? did you already tell me?” he asks suddenly, confused. “sorry, i wanted to say your name, too, because it seems respectful since you said my name, but i was trying to rack my brain for what you said your name was…” “i didn’t.” you clarify, chuckling at his spaciness despite knowing you’ll lie. “it’s…hunter.” “hunter. hm, i like it. it suits you somehow. anyway, thanks, miss hunter the neighbor. rafayel the baker will see you again soon to return his butter hostage and maybe offer a treat forged from his deepest gratitudes.” a lopsided grin and a wink. when he leaves, you close the door and stand there for a moment, recalling the entire exchange. he’s handsome, a bit spacey, but so friendly…so friendly he’s flirty. you’ll never complain about having eye candy for a neighbor, but…you don’t want xavier to get the wrong idea…if rafayel starts talking to you more… you quickly shake the thought away, reminding yourself to return to reality from the depths of your delusions. xavier is not interested in you in that way by any means. he, at most, wants to become friends, which is understandable for a person he’ll be living with for an additional year. that’s fair. you want to be friends, too. ( you just also want him to talk you through his day while he’s fingering you, that’s all. )

the next anomaly occurs at five pm when xavier arrives home much later than he usually does. for him, thirty minutes late is a lot. it throws off his routine. “welcome home.” you say casually as he finally comes waltzing in. you try your best to appear as if you’re as unfazed about his entry. you try not to make it disgustingly obvious that you aren’t just there relaxing anymore; you’re waiting. for him to come home. to welcome him back. this time, though, he doesn’t respond curtly as he ducks back towards his room. you hear the rustling of plastic bags he sets down on the kitchen counter.

he then wanders over to you and lays a heavy palm flat on the crown of your head. “hey,” he breathes. in movies or dramas, this is the moment where your world freezes, just becoming so petrified that even time doesn’t dare to move. you gulp hard, your heart racing even more so than it usually does over him.

what are you supposed to do? “did you…enjoy your day off?” he asks. “did you rest enough?”

“um…” your voice trails, mind still entranced by his hand resting on top of your hand. it’s such a gentle gesture, so tender and timid, like him. such a well-suited affection for his temperament. “i had…a relaxing day. it was nice.” you manage to speak, but you stare ahead, not bold enough to look up at the face he’s making while he touches you. he finally lowers his hand to his side and inside, you scream about it, protest profusely to the removal of his closeness. “what about you? was work okay?” you ask, breathing returning to normal as he heads back to the kitchen to unpack his things.

the first item he takes out is a little bottle of hazelnut creamer, and your heart is so warm you think it’s become nothing but a puddle of adoring liquid. “work was less stressful. we’re close to done with this project. so now there’s not as much silence in the office. everyone is slowly starting to act like real people again. it was driving me insane. when intense projects happen, it disrupts my routine so much. people stop saying good morning. i don’t feel comfortable saying anything more than i already don’t. and i think the secretary hates me because i kept messing up my report and printing it incorrectly. it created unnecessary work for her and it wasted a lot of paper. i made sure to pick some up while i was at the store to replace it, but…” he stops suddenly and frowns. “sorry, i just realized i was rambling again.” you can’t hide your loving smile even if you bother trying. “you’re talking about your day. there’s nothing wrong with that, especially if the person you’re talking to wants to know all the seemingly useless details.” xavier has this habit of just peering at you at times when you respond to his long-windedness with openness to experience. and boy were you dangerously open to experiencing him. “and…do you…?” he asks you slowly, his head tilting to the side. “…want to hear even the unimportant details?” you shrug casually and nod once. you decide on an endearing response with a touch of humor to soften the landing for your heart as it’s doing its somersaults. “i don’t mind hearing about your day in great detail…it’s like listening to an audiobook for free. or a podcast.” “you…” he rolls his eyes, lips quirking. a soft shake of the head. “anyway, what’d you do today? stay on the couch engrossed in your dramas?” “i cleaned up a bit, did some homework, met our new neighbor, and binged on a drama, yes.” his brows bundle together. “we didn’t already have a neighbor?” “that’s what i said! i didn’t know the unit across the hall was empty, but he came by to ask if he could have some butter and introduce himself.” xavier’s face scrunches up, slightly disgusted and confused. “butter? like…to just eat?” “xavi, what?” you ask, bubbling a laugh. “no, dummy. he’s a baker. he started making cupcakes and realized he didn’t have any. he said he’d bring back the excess.” again, a repulsed display of emotion. “i don’t want any food back after it’s left this apartment. there are all kinds of new germs and particles on it now. why would i consume that or allow you to? what kind of person do you take me for? god only knows what he does in that unit. and if he double dips? if he sticks his fingers in his mouth and touches the container without washing his hands? ew. there’s no way for us to even verify. the number of available and unfavorable possibilities is disgusting in itself. and bakers seem like the…‘lick their fingers clean’ type, so…he can keep the butter. i’ll get us more.” you purse your lips together, clasping them shut to keep your amused smile from showing how endearing you find him to be and also to keep from laughing at the severity of his seriousness, at how comical all his particularities are but adorable in the same breath. peculiar as ever. “okay, if he tries to return it, i’ll reject him.”

“that would be best.” a familiar, curt nod. “i’m making dinner in a little while…do you…want to help me? or will it throw your relaxation routine off?” you snort. “xavi, i don’t have a relaxation routine. the relaxation is disrupting the routine in a good way. but yes…what are we making?” and there it is again, that little smile that makes you want to clutch at your chest. having a second tuesday is another wonderful disruption to the routine.

the following tuesday, you’re giddy as you head home from class. you aren’t sure what moment does it for you, but you’ve settled comfortably into the fact that you like xavier, that given the opportunity, you’ll peel back every single layer of his existence to taste and lick and know every part of him. it doesn’t bother you to be just friends and roommates with him, though. you guys live together. even if something comes of it, if it goes south, it’ll really destroy the living dynamic you guys have cultivated, which is quite comfortable. gentle. tender. safe. besides, he reserves special kinds of platonic affections for you that suffice. as you approach the building, you see your neighbor, rafayel, struggling to balance a tall stack of white, flat boxes while he tries to open the door to the building. you jog up and hold it open for him. “ah, thank you, miss hunter the neighbor.” he says graciously. “saving me yet again.” rafayel is nice enough but he seems to be quirky in his own way. you’re starting to wonder if it’s a prerequisite for being accepted for housing in this place. as it stands, though, tensions are high between your household and his. when he returned the butter, rafayel was immensely offended by xavier’s suggestion that he ‘tainted the butter with his baker’s breath’ and the stern demand that he take it back, to which xavier’s lip curled in disgust as he emphasized that he especially didn’t want it then. it ended with rafayel leaving the butter by the door and sitting it on the ground, both oddballs unwilling to claim the absurdity. you ended up picking it up and throwing it away. while it was a comical event all around, seeing the two of them standing in the doorway trading glares over the sanitation of butter was amongst the strangest things you’ve witnessed. “do you need help, rafayel?” you ask with a laugh. “you look like you’re one, fragile step away from it all crumbling down.” he sighs. “if you don’t mind and it won’t taint your precious hands to touch my baker’s boxes, then yes, you may help me.” “for the record, i have absolutely no stock or stance in the butter sanitation conundrum. i am but an innocent bystander. so, no, your baker’s boxes aren’t at risk of tainting my hands.” 

you roll your eyes at him. “you’re really dramatic, you know.” “criticizing me is not helpful.” he notes. “and i’m not certain, but i thought you asked to help.” “fine,” you grumble, grabbing a stack of the boxes out of his hands. “what’s all this for anyway?” he smiles triumphantly. “i got my first big gig as a freelance baker. i’m making fifty fishie cupcakes for a five-year-old’s birthday party tomorrow.” a playful smile. “wow, that’s really cool. congrats on that one. are you excited?” “excited…is certainly a word. maybe not one i’d use to describe this, but a word nonetheless. if you can’t tell by the thick layer of perspiration and sweat gathering on my forehead, everything is great and not stressful at all.” you pout, oddly concerned for his results. “are you going to be able to pull it off?” “well, the thing is that…no?”  he laughs and so do you. “my friend thomas was supposed to be my helper so i could pull it off, but apparently chasing skirts is more important than making and icing cupcakes for a child’s birthday party. i wouldn’t know since i respect the brotherly code of conduct and would never, but it’s fine. i hope he gets laid.” you nod. “me too…but i hope he has a hard time performing. he shouldn’t have bailed on you. this seems…important to you.”

“ah, miss hunter the neighbor is quite observant, rafayel notes.” he narrates himself in the third person. “it is pretty important to me. but…just to me.” that upset you deeply. you know what it’s like to have your dream not be taken seriously. all this time, you’ve been in school to join the hunter’s association of all things. no one really sees the benefit or believes in what you want to do. you have a heart condition, after all. you’re basically out here trying to prove your entire family wrong, that you’re capable of developing a strong, steady life without needing endless aid. 

you hate the idea that rafayel is clearly very passionate about baking, about doing this kind of custom work, but his friends aren’t supporting him, and now he’s scrambling. “do you have to be a talented baker to be a baker’s assistant?” you ask, biting your lip. the flame in rafayel’s eyes twinkle. “not at all! you just need two hands and a decent enough ability to follow a series of simple directions.” nodding resolutely, you smile. “then consider me self-appointed as the baker’s elf. let’s go get these cupcakes made, rafayel the baker neighbor.” to this, he beams. “miss hunter the neighbor is starting to seem a bit like a friendly neighborhood fishie herself.”

making cupcakes from scratch is no fucking joke. there’s so many steps. it really is a series of simple directions, but if those simple directions are off even by a small margin, it ruins the batch and you have to start again. you didn’t realize how time-consuming it would be. in fact, you didn’t really keep up with the time at all, but when you catch a glimpse of it on his television, it’s already eight ‘o clock, and your eyes widen. “shit! i need to go to my apartment.” you tell him urgently. “are you okay from here or should i come back?” rafayel shakes his head, grinning. “you’ve done so much. i just need to finish working on these last fifteen. i got it. thank you so much. you didn’t have to help but you did. it means a lot.” “no problem, but next time, i expect to take home one of my own.” he laughs. “next time?” “rafayel the baker neighbor seems to need help a lot.” you say with a shrug before ducking out quickly. “see you later!” even though you’re only across the hall, you feel like you’re going to walk in and be in an insane amount of trouble. you haven’t even bothered looking at your phone. 

when you walk in, xavier is sitting on the couch, but his head snaps up to you immediately. “you’re okay!” he says, relief evident in his voice as he rises to his feet. “where have you been? i hadn’t heard from you in hours and i got really worried about you.” he walks over to you but keeps a small distance between your bodies, looking you over for any sign of harm. your entire face heats up. you feel yourself shrinking before him as you take a breath. “sorry,” you say, looking down at your feet. “i was across the hall. i was helping rafayel wi—“ he cuts you off, brows knitting together, lips in a frustrated pout. “the unsanitary baker? why?” “if you would let me finish…” you snap, giving him a hard look. “his friend bailed on helping him and he got his first big order as a freelance baker. i was home so i helped. i was really busy so i wasn’t keeping track of time well. you wouldn’t believe how hard it is it make cupcakes from scratch.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips just recounting the last few hours mentally. he’s not looking at you anymore when he speaks next. “you baked cupcakes with him?” he asked. “like…you baked them…together?” you feel confused but nod. “…yes? that’s what ‘helping’ would entail in this situation. he was stressed and i felt bad because i know what it’s like for no one to truly believe in you.”

“fine,” he spits, lips set in a hard line. “i hope it got done. dinner’s on the stove.” he walks past you toward the hallway then, his back turned. “and please wash your hands before you touch anything.” then…he just walks straight to his room without another word, leaving you feeling perplexed by his response. his bedroom door closes a little harder than usual and you fear you may have made a grave mistake by hanging out with rafayel, especially when it’s abundantly clear upon their first interaction they’re unlikely to get along.

maybe he feels like bailing on cooking to hang out with rafayel and not even letting him know is a jerk move and you agree.

since that event, the rest of the week is very awkward. even though you don’t see each other often on weekdays already, you have this inkling that xavier’s avoiding you at all costs. he even stops making his coffee. he just slips out into the early morning. you wake up close to ten am, very late, for every day it occurs. an obnoxious disruption in your routine, and he doesn’t make dinner at all. you go to bed pouting and hungry. but another anomaly occurs when tuesday rolls around again: you wake to find that your class has been canceled. ever the diligent student, you check your emails daily. when you finally get around to grabbing your phone in the morning, it’s the first thing you do. to your surprise, the one class you have is canceled due to the professor being ill. you take great pleasure in this because the regular routine in the home is now also back in motion.

you wake to the heavenly scent of colombian swimming in the air. you wander out into the living room. xavier leans back against the marble counter, sipping quietly from a dark-colored mug. “good morning,” you announce quietly, making sure not to frighten him. his eyes dart to your presence, and you just pause where you are, unsure if proceeding any closer is safe. “morning,” a short and dull response. “you’re up early.” you shake your head, playing with your hands nervously. “i’m always up this early. the smell of your coffee wakes me up every morning. i just usually stay in my room and get ready.” “oh,” his voice is small. after a long pause, he asks, “is it bothersome?” to answer, you smile lazily and offer another small head shake. “not at all. it’s actually my favorite alarm. very quiet and very pleasant. i’ve been waking up late the last week nearly. my routine…was thrown off.”

with all the gall in the world, he scoffs. “since when do you care about keeping a routine?” “what?” you ask softly, voice slightly wounded and face fluttering into confusion. “what do you mean?” “you skipped out on our routine last week and that didn’t seem to matter to you at all.” he states simply. your guilty eyes look at your nervously shuffling feet. “so, what is it? why did you hang out with him and bake with him?” you’re not sure if it’s the irritated tone he’s now choosing to take with you or the underlying insinuation that you, a grown adult, owe him a reasonable explanation for why you exert autonomy and choose to help others. as if you did something morally reprehensible by helping rafayel. you’re not even certain xavier is actually, fully angry that you bailed so much as he’s angry about who you were with and what you were doing instead, which is still unfathomable why it’s his business. yes, you should have let him know and you can own that because you know he probably waited a while for you to show up and you never did, but you’re not going to stand here and let him reprimand you for hanging out at your neighbor’s unit just because he’s decided he doesn’t like him for quite literally no real reason at all. “um, are you my father?” you ask, your face scrunching up in frustration. “he’s our new neighbor, xavier. he needed help. i’m just being kind, and i like hanging out with him. he’s funny an—” he cuts you off, setting down his mug. “you like hanging out with him?” “yes…?” it’s silent between the two of you then, his eyes going blank and glossy. “why? what’s so special about his place? why would you prefer spending tuesday there?” you’re genuinely appalled by his response. you expect he may not like the idea of you hanging out with someone he dislikes, but he’s not your parent or your partner, and he’s only become a friend recently. the way you feel like you’re being forced to justify your very simple, very innocent actions of helping rafayel is absolutely unacceptable because no matter how many times you say it, telling xavier you did it because he needed help and it was important for him to have it isn’t a sufficient explanation for him. but it’s the truth and it not being enough for him is not necessarily your burden to bear.

“xavier, i don’t owe you an explanation as to why i had a good time hanging out with him and helping him make cupcakes so his first, real order can lead to more. i don’t have to explain anything i choose to do with anyone. i don’t owe you or your ego elaboration.” “well…” his voice trails and he’s quiet for a minute as his skin slowly reddens and he nervously bites his lower lip. when he looks at you again and speaks, his voice is incredibly soft, unbearably wounded, and pained. “i want an explanation anyway. because i thought you liked spending your tuesday nights with me, but you went over there instead of staying to see me and make dinner together. and you didn’t even tell me. just left me waiting on you. what’s that about?” the sheer shock and confusion of his confession must be evident on your face. you feel your mouth part as if you want to speak but you don’t. your brows knit together, trying to make sense of his stance so you can properly answer his question. 

your heart is racing wildly because it seems xavier may have developed feelings of his own…toward you. “wait…wait…” your voice trails, you’re still looking up, eyes blinking rapidly and narrowing, not in a sinister way but dubious. 

as it stands, your current theory that he might have feelings for you, is unfounded and is permeated by perplexity. 

“is…is that why you’re upset?” you ask him. “because i ended up helping him and missing one tuesday with you?” he sighs and nods, frustration exuded in his body language as if you stated the utter obvious simply to upset him. “you told me you liked our little tradition to cook together, but then picked another guy to make food with the very next week? an unsanitary one at that? and…and…you know what? i want to do that with you. making dinner isn’t fun on my own. not on tuesdays. not if you’re not here with me, and especially not if you’re not here because you’re over there and want to be there more than you want to be here. with me.” your question comes out suddenly, your tone layered in urgency. “xavier…do you like me?” he just stares, mouth slightly agape, looking as if you’ve asked a stupid question yet again. a soundless, ‘you’re not serious, right?’

his next comment confirms your intuition and also attests to your ability to read his expressions clearly now. “are you really asking me that? are you oblivious? after all this time? as if it wasn’t completely obvious that i do.” you snort. “xavier, if you liked me all this time, it was absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably not obvious.” “i gave you a hand towel that matches mine and placed them next to each other.” he details with a flat voice and a roll of his eyes. you look at him, growing progressively more flabbergasted by his position in the ongoing argument. he lives in a delusional mental world where he thinks his feelings, in all their silent conquest, are thoroughly known and understood. even though you’ve never spoken to him about anything of the sort.

“xavier…you do realize you criticized me for the number of paper towels i used, right? i thought you were  just…solving the problem you created.” he has the audacity to groan. “i’ve made dinner for you to eat when you come home since the first time you left me a sticky note apologizing for eating my extras.” “yes, because you always make excess. that’s what you said!” you huff, arms folding over your chest. he can’t seriously believe he has a little avalanche of decent examples of his ‘liking you’ being obvious. there’s just no way. he would have to be completely disregarding every other aspect of objective reality except his own thoughts and perception in order to come to the conclusion that placing a hand towel on a bar or letting you have the extra food he makes regardless are his attempts to court you. “i got upset when you filled in for a coworker on a tuesday instead of coming home and i was only distressed because you weren’t here to tell me welcome home. i told you i didn’t feel welcomed without it!” now his voice is raising, aghast and disbelieving. you shrug, just staring at him with flat affect and dawning freshly picked neutrality. “i thought you were joking and finally developing a sense of humor. i was proud of you.” a squeak. he’s watching all his ridiculous reasonings be debunked and he just continues trailing down the list of them, much to your dismay.

if he’d shut up for a moment, you can get off the topic of what would have made it obvious and move on to something way more important, much more impactful. is he going to kiss you soon or what? so peculiar. he’d rather argue you down than take his shot with you and watch himself hit a bullseye. “i gave you my special mug to keep for your own because you said you wanted it.” another eye roll. “you broke my own special mug and told me to pick the one i wanted! i thought it was an eye for an eye. a mug for a mug!” he gestures towards the refrigerator. “i brought creamer, a banned substance, into this apartment for you.” “it’s creamer, xavier, not a confession. please be serious.” this time, his voice is small and sheepish. “i started giving you…head pats.” you can’t refute the intimacy of that one. you know it. he knows it. the smug smirk on his face not only knows it but is gloating about it. “fine, you got me there, but that still isn’t enough to infer romantic interest.” “i blatantly asked you to make it a permanent date with me to make dinner together on tuesdays. how much more obvious do i need to be?”

you furiously shake your head, protesting his claim. “no, no! you formally requested assistance with dinner on tuesdays. the word date was not aforementioned. you made it seem mandatory . in fact, you said it was only fair.” now, he’s blushing furiously, the tips of his ears going red. “it’s not mandatory, per se. it’s just the principle. and even still, you say that as a counter, yet you went over to his place instead of coming home to be with me…doing the cooking we agreed on and mutually enjoyed.” you scoff. “but it’s not mandatory to cook?” “well cooking isn’t mandatory, but it is mandatory that you genuinely like me back if we’re going to be doing domestic things like making meals to eat together. consistently. and openly. so when you do it with me for weeks and tell me entirely unprovoked that you like doing it with me, it gives the impression you want to be domestic with me. i only spend time at home, so i take that very seriously. i was starting to feel played with.” you won’t lie. all of his nonsense is just that: nonsense. but the idea that you left him feeling like you were giving mixed signals or like you were stringing him along for the fun of it deeply wounds you inside, because you also like him a hell of a lot. you would never go off and be intentionally confusing. “i wish you had said it clearly. we would have been on the same page a long time ago probably. i wouldn’t be spending a single tuesday there if i knew why you wanted me here.” xavier grumbles, “i genuinely don’t understand how you didn’t notice.”

“i genuinely don’t understand how you could possibly think i would?” you counter, the statement falling from your lips like a question that requires clarification. he steps closer to you, and for the first time, you see something new in his eyes: determination, passion, need, and desire. your breath catches in your throat when one hand goes around your waist, pulling you closer to him, the other cupping your cheek. your heart. that’s all you can hear is your heart thumping in your chest as if it might combust. “how is this for being crystal clear? i like making dinner for you and with you. i like that our hand towels are matching and next to each other. i like that the smell of my coffee wakes you up in the morning…i want to be the one that wakes you up in the mornings. so…with that being said, it’s tuesday and i want to make dinner with you tonight. if you want to make dinner with me, understand that you’re consenting to complete romantic affiliation.” “understood,” it comes out with no hesitation, your eyes glancing between baby blues and pretty, tinted lips begging and beckoning. “so, you’ll make dinner with me and consent to romantic affiliation?” he confirms, a lopsided grin forming. his choice of words begs a chuckle from you. you nod. “xavi, are you seriously asking me that? are you oblivious?” “can i kiss you now? i’ve been dying to.” you pout, feigning a great deal of disappointment and concern. “if you don’t know the answer, then maybe i really should go back across the hall…” his grip on your waist tightens, a soft thumb caressing your cheek and there’s that subtle smile you adore. “we’re definitely kissing because you have to be quiet. like right now.”

you laugh. “wow. that one was actually funny.” “what?” he asks, thrown by your response. “oh, nothing,” you sing. “c’mere,” smiling at your urge to draw him in, he leans down then, no longer willing to waste time being idle with you or staring into each other until you can’t take it. when his lips touch yours, the only thing you can think about is how soft they are, how smooth, silk against velvet. all you can think about is how gently he keeps you against his torso, how shyly his lips move with yours like he needs to test you out and know how you feel, like his lips have more to offer, but much like his conversational skill, you’ll have to coax him out of his timidity. when you both pull apart, you reach your hand up to touch his, tugging very gently on his fingers. he obliges your silent request for his hand, watching you with an enamored gaze, moving his palm from your face and allowing you to tangle your fingers together. you officially love his hands very much. you felt it on your cheek and now you feel it wrapped around every space between your fingers. the most peculiar thing of all about xavier seems to be just how correct your theory is: his hands are like satin, and they take immaculate care of anything they’re tasked with touching.

[endorphins-assembly-line]

Training Part 2 - Blowjobs

A/n: Here's part 2! This is actually more like part 1 of part 2 but if I made it a whole chapter, it would end up being quite long so I decided to split it. This chapter only has Caleb and Xavier with the others being mentioned so the next chapter will have Zayne, Raphael and Sylus <3

Part 1;

"Slowly, baby. Don't push yourself."

You rolled your eyes which resulted in Caleb reaching a hand down and pinching your ear, making you whine.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, you little brat." he teased, pulling his hand away before leaning back again on the couch, "Nngh- you're lucky you're so cute."

"That she is." Xavier agreed from behind you, his touch sending a shiver up your spine, "Be good for us, angel. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

You didn't reply, focusing on your breathing instead as you pushed down, jaw aching as you took more and more of Caleb's hard cock into your mouth. His girth was stretching you out and you were doing your best to not let your teeth accidentally scratch him. Tears filled your eyes as the tip of his fat cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag but you pushed ahead, nails digging into his thighs as you attempted to deep throat him.

"Haaah- fuck." Caleb panted, his cheeks dusted a bright red as he looked down at you, his own fingers digging into the couch cushion as he fought his instinct to grab you by the head, "Feels so fucking- ah- good!"

"Keep going. That's it. Almost there, baby." Xavier said, keeping a close eye on you as Caleb's cock slid down your throat, "You're doing so good."

The white haired man was kneeling on the carpet next to you as you settled between Caleb's spread legs, your back arched as you sat on your knees. With your perk butt perched on top of your heels, Xavier was lightly touching you, his touch so gently as he caressed your cheeks, occasionally scratching them with his nails which made your whole body shiver.

You were just wearing a baby pink lingerie set, the two men having undressed you before getting you on your knees. You gagged more as Caleb slid down your throat, about to pull away when you felt Xavier thread his fingers through your hair and keep you down. It wasn't firm enough that you couldn't pull back if you really wanted to but it wasn't gentle either, letting you know that he was there.

"Just breathe. Come on." he cooed, pushing your head a bit as you took more of the brunettes dick, "You're almost there."

"Fuck- this is killing me-" Caleb moaned, tossing his head back as you finally deep throated him, your lips pressed against the base of his cock, nose snuggling into the small tuft of hair. The sensation of your tight, wet heat all over his dick, muscles contracting as you swallowed around him which just made him feel so, so good. He felt like he was ripping apart the sofa fabrics as he now had to stop himself from thrusting his hips, wanting nothing more but to fuck your cute fucking face.

"Stay there baby. You got this." Xavier encouraged, holding you in place as you sputtered around his friends dick, "5...4...3...2....."

You grunted, Xavier keeping one hand on the back of your head while the other slid to your neck, gently wrapping his fingers around it. "And...1. Ok, slowly now."

With another gag, you started to pull off of Caleb's cock in a pace slower than what you would have done- which was probably why Xavier was directing you to prevent you from hurting yourself by pulling off to roughly. Eventually, Caleb's heavy cock popped out of your mouth, standing tall and wet with thick angry veins pumping through it.

You coughed, taking in deep breaths as you brought a hand up to pump Caleb's sticky dick, your own saliva coating your fingers as you jerked him off, smiling at the way his thighs twitched. Xavier cooed compliments at you, petting your hair with one hand while the other was still around your neck in a light choke.

"Good job, pipsqueak. You managed to- fuck- deep throat me." Caleb panted out, his will power being tested, "Told you your training was worth it."

"Such a good girl." Xavier said, using his hold on your neck to tilt your face towards him before he leaned down and kissed you. Your boyfriends had long since lost any sense of shame or hesitation so Xavier couldn't care less that he was probably tasting Caleb's cock on your tongue- as long as it was you, he'd desire you no matter what. They all would.

Xavier was wearing a casual outfit, his usual big, fluffy white hoodie coupled with an undershirt and jeans. He looked so cute- and yet here he was, making you deep throat dick while groping you. You felt yourself get more lightheaded before he finally pulled away from the deep kiss, a smile on his face as he let go of you only to trail his hands down back to your ass. His hand ran in circles over your cheeks before he grabbed your panties. But instead of whisking them off of you, he bunched them up and pulled upwards, making you squeak as your panties were suddenly pulled tight up against your juicy pussy lips.

"H-Hey!" You whined with a pout, ignoring the way Calebs' cock twitched in your hand as a response, "Cut it outtt."

"Focus on Caleb, sweet pea." Xavier simply said, giving your behind a gentle smack with his free hand, "You have to make him cum, remember?"

"Yeah pip." Caleb groaned, looking more and more debauched by the minute, "Come on. Suck my balls."

He got a hand to the back of your head and gently pulled you forward, his adams apple bobbing in anticipation. You huffed, hand still pumping his cock as you allowed yourself to be directed lower, mouth open to take a ball in your mouth. You moaned around him, the vibration making the brunette hiss. His nails were starting to peel into the fabric of the couch, causing some of the thread to snap and you couldn't help but pat yourself on the back for being able to have this effect on him.

You opened your jaw wide, suckling on his sack while your hand gave special attention to the tip of his cock, rolling his pink cockhead around in the dip of your palm. You made sure to look up at him, wanting to capture every twitch and expression, glad that you were finally allowed to give your men more pleasure. Caleb looked down at you and bit his lower lip harshly, almost like he was fighting back a moan. You could only assume that you looked filthy, with your teary eyes blinking up at him innocently even as you drove him crazy.

Xavier continued to torture you, giving your panties a final harsh tug before letting go, allowing the stretched fabric to pool on your lower back. You could feel the cloth wedged tightly into your cunt and the sudden sound of a camera shutter going off made you jump. Off to the side, Caleb's phone let out a 'ding', indicating that he had received a message. You pulled off of Caleb's balls, much to his dismay, so you could turn around and give Xavier a glare just as he pocketed his phone.

"What?" he asked innocently, "When you look this delicious, do you really think I'm not going to show you off to the others? They'd kill me if I didn't."

You rolled your eyes, "You're being dramatic."

"Well...not really. Remember the first time we got you in lingerie when Sylus and Raphael were busy? We didn't send them a picture of you and Raphael threw a tantrum? And Sylus threatened to buy out Victorias Secret so you could try them all for him?"

"...I stand corrected."

A gentle tug was given to your hair, bringing your attention back to Caleb who looked like he was either on the verge of tears or on the verge of pouncing on you. Probably both.

"Keep going, baby." he pleaded, "I'm close."

"Already?" Xavier teased, "She barely started."

"Shut up. I'd like to see how long you last once you get a taste of her mouth."

You brought your head back to the poor man's cock, licking along his veins from the base, all the way to the tip. Now you were eager to get him to cum, wanting to finally feel the sensation of one of the men you love explode into your mouth. You sealed your lips around the tip, tongue running in circles over it as your hand pumped the shaft. You dug the point of your tongue into his slit and Caleb cursed so loudly it took you by surprise. With a giggle, you started to move down deeper before pulling back, making sure to keep your tongue flat on the underside of his dick as you gradually picked up the pace.

This was the first time you were bobbing your head on a cock that wasn't a toy and you were excited! You had dreamed of doing this everytime you were made to take the silicone down your throat, wanting nothing more but to be bobbing on their cocks instead-

But maybe they weren't lying when they said you needed to practice first.

Maybe it was because it was a real cock and maybe it was because his dick was bigger than the toy- but you whined in frustration as you failed to find a rhythm. Either you weren't sucking hard enough or you went too deep and gagged too violently that you had to pull away- or you forgot to move you hand while you sucked- You were way better at this when it was a dildo!

And you could tell Caleb was getting frustrated- not at you, of course- but because he was right on the edge of climaxing but he couldn't get there yet. Not with your sloppy technique.

You whined loudly, eyebrows furrowing and tears prickling your eyes as you pulled away. With an annoyed huff, you faceplanted against Caleb's bare thigh, hiding your expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Caleb asked, both he and Xavier leaning over you, worried. You tried not to cry, sniffling as you rested your cheek on his thigh muscle, looking up at them, "I'm sorry. I'm not able to- ah- it's tough."

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetie." Caleb cooed, "You just need a bit of practice, that's all. Do you want to continue?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"Can you help her out?" Caleb then asked Xavier, the man gently patting your back.

"You don't want to do it?" the silver haired asked.

"I won't be able to hold myself back if I do. I don't wanna hurt her."

"Okay then. Come here, princess. Let me help you."

With one more sniffle, you sat back straight, Xavier moving his position so he was kneeling right behind you. You could feel his clothed hardness pressed against your ass but it wasn't the time for that now. You shivered as he thread his right hand through the locks of your hair, getting a good grip on you before he placed his left hand on the sofa, right beside Caleb.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded before once again, taking Caleb's still hard erection into your mouth. Xavier let you start off by yourself, watching as you took in a few inches before his grip on your hair tightened. You shivered as he started to gently move you, taking over the reins as he set up a gentle pace. Fuck. You were being used like a toy-

And you fucking loved it.

"There we go. See? It's not that hard." Xavier said, using the grip on your hair to bob your head up and down. There was a joke there but you were too focused on sucking to crack yourself up. Caleb moaned above you, his chest starting to heave up and down from the sensation and you cheered. "That's it...pipsqueak...oh yes! Your mouth is fuck- ah- fuck!"

"I'm going to increase the pace, okay?" Xavier said before he did just that, gradually picking up speed. His grip on you was tight and firm, the man clearly taking this responsibility seriously as he guided you to bob your head up and down.

Gawk gawk gawk gawk-

"Hah. Don't enjoy yourself too much now. You're going to make me jealous."

You would have rolled your eyes again if you could. But they were too full of tears to really do much else. Saliva dripped down Caleb's cock and lathered up his balls, the man having tossed his head back as he enjoyed the pleasure. His cock was sliding up and down your throat now, the tight heat making his head spin.

"Yes- yes- yessss!" he gasped, hips sputtering as he fought against his instinct to buck into your mouth, "So close- faster-"

Xavier did as he was told and you went along with it, your head now bobbing up and down his length, gags and gasps leaving your lips as sticky threads of spit formed between your lips as Caleb's fat cock. Xavier was relentless, controlling your movements with ease.

"Gonna- ah- ah- fuck- gonna cum!"

"In her mouth or on her face?" Xavier asked in the same tone like he was asking if someone wanted a glass of water.

"In her mouth- ah- push her deeper- and keep her there- fuck!"

Xavier lifted his hand off of the couch so he could use both of them to push your face down towards the base of Caleb's cock, giving you no choice but to deep throat him. You yelped as you were stuffed completely full, body tingling as you finally felt Caleb orgasm. His cock throbbed inside you, balls clenching against your chin as he came with a roar.

"Ah! Fuck fuck fuuuuckkkk!!" Caleb babbled, tossing his head back against the couch, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His nails had somehow ripped out a bit of the couch stuffing, his thighs flexing and clenching on either side of you, back arching like a porn star. His cock spurted out semen, hot ropes of thick, white cum pouring into your mouth. You sputtered around him, throat contracting as you swallowed obediently, his dick so far down that you had no choice but to swallow.

"Good girl. Drink it all. That's it~" Xavier cooed, still pressing your head down, only letting go when Caleb visibly relaxed. You took in deep breaths as Xavier once again guided you to carefully separate from the cock in your mouth, not moving too fast. Caleb's dick left your lips a slobbered, cum stained mess, hanging heavy between his legs, clearly satisfied.

"Holy...holy fuck babe..." the man groaned, face red and sweaty, "You're amazing."

You giggled before placing your head against his thigh again, Caleb laughing along as he ruffled your hair. Xavier leaned in to place a kiss on your shoulder before he started to get up: "Let's get you a glass of water and clean you up."

But before he could get onto his feet, you grabbed his arm and pull, making him stumble a bit before he caught himself. You leaned against him, pressing your body against his chest, giving him puppy dog eyes that rivaled his own.

"I wanna make you feel good too..." you whined cutely, voice a bit hoarse, "wanna use my mouth on you..."

You felt Xavier shiver, the man clearing his throat before firmly saying: "No, baby. Maybe later. Don't want you to overwork yourself."

"I won't! I'll be careful." you insisted, not so subtly pushing your hips back a bit so your ass pressed against his clothed erection, "You don't want it?"

"You know I do. But..." Xavier trailed off, hissing at the feeling of your bubble butt against him. Caleb chuckled, grabbing his discarded boxers before standing up and shrugging them on.

"I think she'll be okay." he said to Xavier, "Besides, I'll be here to look after her and make sure she isn't overdoing it. We can consider it part of her training."

Xavier sighed, "Alright then. I suppose it won't hurt to try."

"Oh, I'm sorry." You said sarcastically at his dramatic sigh, "Is being offered a blowjob really taxing on you? You poor thing."

"Talking to me like that when I'm about to shove my cock down your throat really isn't the brightest move."

"Hah. Nice try. Caleb will stop you from being rough."

"Will he? Or will he be like me and really like the sight of you crying?"

"...Touche."

~~~~~

[endorphins-assembly-line]

This is to Celebrate 1500 followers!!!

You Squ💦in his mouth, he cu💦 in his pants!!

Includes playing with toys 😉

Enjoy!!!

Rafayel/Xavier/Caleb/Zayne/Sylus

TW: Smut

"Please, I can't... I need you," Rafayel gasps, his voice strained with desperation. His hand shoots out, grasping for his aching cock, but you bat it away. He looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and pleading. "Don't tease me like this... I'm not thinking straight. Let me touch you, let me fuck you, anything..."

"Don't touch Raf"

You lean back on the bed, heart pounding as you slowly spread your thighs apart. Rafayel's eyes, already dark with lust, turn almost black as he takes in the sight of your exposed sex. He falls to his knees before you, face level with your dripping core.

"Please"

His eyes widen, fixating on your glistening folds as you spread yourself open with two fingers. The sight makes his painfully hard cock throb and leak pre cum.

"You wanted me to use my toy didn't you?"

Rafayel's eyes follow your hand as you trail the buzzing toy along your folds, he licks his lips, practically drooling and he has to swallow hard before he can speak.

"I did... I do. Fuck, just look at you, so wet and ready. You're not making this easy."

His gaze remains locked on your core, watching as the toy parts your slick lips, teasing your entrance. 

"But looking at your pretty cunt, swollen and so fucking wet... I don't know if I can wait any longer."

He looks up at you with pleading eyes, desperate for permission to bury his face between your thighs and lose himself in your taste.

"Please, let me taste you... I need it. I need to feel your cum on my tongue. Then maybe I can focus enough to watch you fuck yourself with your toy until you scream."

He watches you place the toy against your clit making your body jerk and your back arch. His eyes taking in the way your breast swells in your own hand and your walls clench around nothing.

A strangled groan escapes his throat as he suddenly grips your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh fuck, look at you... so desperate for stimulation. You need something to fill that tight little cunt, don't you cutie?" 

Rafayel doesn't hesitate for a second when you place the toy coated with your juices against his lips. He parts them eagerly, taking the small vibrator into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, lapping up your essence greedily as if it were the finest nectar.

He suckles on the toy, imagining it's your throbbing clit, moaning around it. His eyes flutter shut in bliss as he savors your taste.

His hands slide up your thighs, gripping your ass as he pulls you closer. Plunging the toy deep into your clenching pussy he buries his face between your legs and tries to suck down every last drop of your arousal.

Your fingers grip his hair, pulling him tighter against you. He eagerly complies, dragging the flat of his tongue along your slit before swirling just the tip around your swollen clit. The combination of the vibrator and his tongue flicking over your sensitive nub quickly pushes you towards the edge.

Rafayel eagerly pushes your thighs up and open, giving him complete access to your dripping pussy.

"Raf...Oh...my god."

As your moans fill the air, Rafayel feels his control slipping away. His painfully hard cock throbs and pulses, leaking even more pre cum. Seeing your flushed skin, from your ears down to your heaving chest, makes Rafayel grin against your sensitive flesh. He can feel your body tensing, your walls starting to flutter and clench around the vibrator.

He suckles your clit mercilessly and plunges the toy as deep as it can go. Your walls clamp down hard around the vibrator, body going rigid. With a scream of his name your orgasm crashes over you, your arousal gushes out of you, flooding Rafayel's mouth, drenching his face as you squirt uncontrollably.

Rafayel moans loudly as he feels you gushing over his lips and chin, the taste and sensation pushing him over the edge. Caught off guard, his own orgasm slams into him like a truck. His painfully hard cock pulses and throbs, his eyes roll back in bliss as spurt after spurt of his seed paints the floor, his body shuddering from the force of his orgasm.

He slows his movements and gently takes the toy out of your still clenching pussy, bringing it to his mouth to suck the last of your arousal from it before tossing it aside.

"Raf, that was one of the best orgasms I've ever had?"

"Yeah, mine too"

"What...?"

He blushes deeply as he looks up at you, rubbing the back of his neck. "I said what I said. I came like a horny teenager, on the spot, just from eating you out"

It takes him a minute to figure out what he is actually seeing. You are straddling a large dildo, your bare ass rocking every time you slide up and down. The sounds of the toy plunging into you fill the room, making Xavier's cock throb.

A surge of jealousy, hot and fierce, courses through him as he watches you pleasure yourself on that fucking piece of silicone. It's ridiculous, really. He was the one that ordered you to ride it and now he hates seeing you like this.

"You wanted to watch me use the toy on myself," you pointed out "Well, here I am. I'm doing exactly what you asked me to do."

Xavier's jaw clenched as he watched you continue to move on the dildo, your breathy moans growing louder with each passing second.

"Holy fuck" he whispers

"Xav" you say, eyes growing wider "I'm gonna cum"

"No... you're not" he grabs you by the hips, pulling you off of the dildo and onto the bed with him. "Not on that thing. You have me right here"

"You know, that thing can make me cum in less than a minute"

" I'll do it in 59 seconds, bunny"

Xavier's hands gripped your thighs tightly, pulling your legs apart as he settled himself between them. "Let me eat my star," he muttered, his hot breath already tickling you cunt.

He leaned in closer, his tongue darting out to lick a long, slow stripe along your slit. He groaned at the taste, his cock throbbing and twitching.

Xavier flicked his tongue against your sensitive clit, feeling it swell and throb under his touch. Without warning, he sucked the little nub into his mouth, his lips sealing around it as he began to nurse on it greedily. He could feel your body tense and shudder beneath him, your fingers tangling in his short hair as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

"Oh god, Xavier!" you gasped. Your vision went white as he continued his relentless assault on your most sensitive spot, his tongue flicking and swirling around it with expert precision.

Xavier's hands slid up your thighs, gripping your ass tightly as he pulled your hips closer to his face. He wanted to devour you, to consume every last drop of your pleasure until you were nothing but a writhing, screaming mess beneath him. He wanted to erase any thoughts of the toy, of anything that wasn't him and the way he made you feel.

Your body bucked wildly against Xavier's face, his own hips jerked against the mattress, cock throbbing and leaking pre cum.

Then, without warning, you felt his long, thick fingers plunging inside your cunt.

Deep.Curling.Perfect.

He groaned against your flesh, the vibrations searing through your core and pushing you over the precipice.

"Oh god, yes!" you cried out, your fingers gripping his hair so tightly that you were sure you were hurting him.

Even as your body convulsed and shook, your pussy clenching like a vice around his fingers, he kept stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you.

Slick gushed out around his fingers, coating his lips and even dripping down the sheets below. The taste and feel of your release pushed him over the edge.

With a deep, guttural groan that originated from the very depths of his chest, Xavier's body shuddered and jerked. His hips bucked once, twice, and then he was coming undone, his cock pulsing and throbbing as it leaked thick ropes of cum into his pants.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained with disbelief and awe at the power of the moment. "You make me lose control. I've never...I didn't know I could... come just from..."

You looked at Xavier with a playful smirk, your chest still heaving "That was more than a minute, Xav."

"But I made you squirt," he countered "That's an extra point for me, don't you think? So technically, I win."

"Oh fuck, Caleb!" you moan, back arching off the bed as he brings the vibrator back to your clit. Electric pleasure jolts through you at the touch, your hips bucking instinctively into the toy.

He watches your reaction and leans in to spit directly on your pussy. The sensation of his warm saliva mingling with your arousal makes you gasp, walls clenching around nothing.

Before you can catch your breath, two of Caleb's long fingers plunge deep into you. You let out a broken moan, inner muscles gripping his fingers as he starts to pump them in and out, curling them just right to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Caleb!" you keen, hands fisting in the sheets beneath you as the stimulation of the vibrator on your clit and his fingers fucking your pussy becomes too much.

"You like this, don't you Pip?" You like it when I play with your clit like this? With one of your toys?

"Yes,Yes Caleb" you moan wantonly, your head thrashing from side to side on the pillow.

You start to move on your own, desperation overtaking you as you fuck yourself shamelessly on his hand. Your hips rise and fall, forcing his fingers deeper into your soaked cunt.

Caleb's own hips press downwards against the mattress, trying to alleviate the throbbing ache in his painfully hard cock. He's so fucking turned on by how eagerly you're taking his fingers.

As if sensing your desperation, he clicks the button on the vibrator, raising the setting to maximum power. The toy buzzes to life with renewed intensity, its pressure grinding against your swollen clit as you move faster against his hand.

"God, Caleb... I'm gonna cum, like everywhere!"

"Now?"

"Yes!" you cry out, the vibrator on your sensitive nub making your hips jerk erratically against his hand. Just as the pleasure becomes too intense, Caleb abruptly removes the toy, leaving you sobbing at the sudden loss of stimulation.

But before you can wallow in disappointment, he lifts you effortlessly from the bed, your legs dangling and shaking.

He carries you the short distance to the nearest wall, pressing your back against it as he drops to his knees before you. His strong hands grip the backs of your thighs, pushing them apart as he throws one leg over each shoulder. You're exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

Caleb looks up at you, his expression intense and commanding. His voice is an authoritative growl as he orders:

"Squirt down my throat, pip. Give me every last drop." Then he seals his lips around your engorged clit, suckling the bud with hunger. His tongue swirls and flicks, playing your clit like an instrument only he knows how to master.

And he doesn't let up, his evol holds your trembling legs steady over his shoulders as he pushes his fingers back inside your cunt and pumps them in and out, curling them to hit your g spot.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" you cry over and over again and just as he commanded, you squirt your release down his throat, your arousal flooding his mouth as he greedily swallows every last drop.

His evol holds your legs steady, keeping you pinned against the wall and preventing you from collapsing as your body rocks with the force of your climax.

Caleb slowly lowers you down until you're sitting straddled on his lap on the cool hardwood floor. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

His forehead drops to yours, his eyes are closed, his expression one of pure bliss. When he speaks, his voice is an awed rasp:

"I haven't cum in my pants since... you've reduced me to a fucking teenager again, leaking in my boxers like I'm back in high school."

Curious, you glance down between you, your gaze drawn to the wet spot darkening the fabric of his pants. 

"The way you moaned my name just... Fuck princess...say it again"

A slow, teasing smile spreads across your face as you realize the implications of his words. Leaning in closer, you bring your lips to his ear, your warm breath ghosting over his skin as you whisper:

"Oh? You mean like this..." you pause for a moment, letting the anticipation build. Then, in a breathy, needy tone that mirrors the way you moan his name while he fucks you, you breathe out:

"Caleb..."

You let the single syllable linger, drawing it out as if you're crying out in pleasure. Your tongue darts out, tracing the curve of his earlobe before you nip at it playfully. You can feel the shudder that runs through him at the sound, his cock twitching against your thigh in response.

A growl rumbles in his chest as you cup his erection through his pants. Then he stands, lifting you up with him crushing your body against his.

"Oh you asked for it Pip"

"Oh Zayne, please, I can't handle it anymore!" you whimper, squirming uncomfortably in the plush office chair. The vibrator nestled in your underwear pulses relentlessly, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Handle it? you feel your face flush a deep crimson. "You call this handling it?"

Zayne just smirks at you from across the desk, fingers flying over the keyboard as he pretends to focus on his work. But you can see the way his eyes keep flicking to you, taking in your desperate writhing with a smug, satisfied grin.

"I think you can handle anything I give you, sweetheart", he murmurs "In fact, I know you can"

He reaches out and presses a button on the remote control sitting on his desk. Instantly, the vibrator kicks up another notch, buzzing so hard you swear you can feel the heat of it through the thin fabric of your panties.

"Ahhhh!" you cry out, back arching off the chair as pleasure whites out your vision for a moment. Your nails dig into the leather of the armrests as you try to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensation.

"Please Zayne, it's too much!" you beg, voice breaking on a sob. "I can't...I can't do it anymore!"

Zayne finally looks up from his computer only to pin you with a stern glare. "You wanted to tease me, didn't you?"

"Please, I came twice already... I can't..."

He reaches for the remote, and you flinch, bracing yourself. But instead of increasing the intensity, he turns it off completely.

"I'm just too sensitive...I can't...I won't..."

"Won't what?" Zayne interrupts, rising slowly from his seat. He rounds the desk with measured steps, each one bringing him closer to you until he's looming over you.

"Won't tease me anymore?" he finishes for you, tilting your chin up with one finger so you're forced to meet his gaze. "Won't be a brat and try to tempt me past my limits?"

His thumb brushes over your lower lip and you part your lips on a shaky exhale, he takes the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth. You close your lips around it instinctively, suckling gently.

"There's my good girl," Zayne purrs, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction at your submissive display. "Such a pretty little mouth. I wonder..."

He leans in closer and whispers, "How many more times do you think you can come tonight before I ruin you completely?"

His other hand slides beneath your skirt, fingers skimming over your inner thigh. You're already soaked, panties clinging obscenely to your swollen folds.

"These are mine now," Zayne declares sliding down your drenched panties and tucking them into the pocket of his lab coat. "You cant get them back."

He grips your hips, hauling you to the edge of the chair and forcing your legs apart. The cool air of the office kisses your skin, making you shiver.

"Zayne, please..." you whimper, but the plea is cut off by a sharp gasp as his fingers delve between your folds. Your body betrays your true desires, hips rocking into his touch wantonly.

"Please what?" he taunts, circling your clit with a light touch.

"I...I need... "you pant out, words tumbling from your lips in a desperate rush, "I need you, Zayne. I need your cock. Please, please fuck me. Ruin me. I can't...I can't take the emptiness anymore!"

"That's my girl," Zayne croons, rewarding your desperation with a brutal thrust of two fingers knuckle deep inside you. "So tight. So perfect."

"One more", Zayne promises before diving between your thighs. He throws your leg over his shoulder, opening you up completely. Then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, and you're crying out, back arching off the chair.

"Ahhh, fuck! Zayne!" you wail, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his short black hair. You try to push him away, overwhelmed by the intensity of your impending release, but he's relentless. Inescapable.

"That's it, sweetheart. Come for me one more time," he orders against your flesh, the vibrations of his voice pushing you closer to the edge.

He suckles your clit greedily, teeth grazing the sensitive nub as two fingers plunge back inside your fluttering cunt.

"Zayne... I'm going to...I can't...you have to..."

You don't even finish the rest of the sentence before your cum sloshes into his mouth , but you don't just gush into his mouth, you squirt all over his face.

Zayne grunts, his stomach clenches as his heavy balls draw up tight and then his hot seed erupts from his throbbing cock, soaking through the fabric of his boxers and pants.

The minute he pulls back you sit up, closing your legs in mortification. "I'm sorry I was trying to warn you to pull away but..."

He can't help but throw his head back and laugh, a deep, rumbling sound that echoes through the office.

"Oh sweetheart", he chuckles, wiping the remnants of your release from his face with the back of his hand. "Does it look like I'm sorry?"

He rises to his feet, looking down at the growing wet patch on the front of his expensive slacks, the evidence of his own climax. If anything, he seems immensely pleased with himself.

"My shirt is ruined, my pants are soaked through, and my face is covered in your cum" he says, still grinning "And I've never been happier."

Zayne tilts your face up to meet his gaze. "I think that was the hottest thing I've ever seen. And I can't fucking wait to do it again, as soon as I give my 18 year old self his balls back"

Sylus watches the thick dildo nestled between your thighs, watches you rock back and forth, working it in and out of your dripping pussy.

"All the way inside, kitten. Put it all the way in," Sylus growls, you can feel his gaze raking over your curves, consuming you, owning you.

Flustered, you try to comply, bearing down harder, sinking the thick toy deeper. But it's a tight fit, and your body struggles to take it all. You clench and flutter around the length, your pussy resisting the intrusion.

This only seems to please Sylus more. A smirk plays at the corners of his full lips as he watches you squirm and pant, fighting to force the dildo deeper. "You look so pretty struggling to get just that inside"

Embarrassed heat colors your cheeks, even as arousal coils tighter in your belly. You've never felt so exposed, so utterly seen. It's terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. Biting your lip, you redouble your efforts, determined to please him, to prove you can take what he wants to give you.

"Sweetie, you are so desperate to cum your pussy is dripping onto my sheets"

You blush harder as Sylus points out your desperate state. The wet spot beneath your ass on his expensive silk sheets is growing, an evidence to how badly your body craves release.

Mortified, you stammer out an apology, "S-sorry..."

He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Oh, I wasn't complaining," he murmurs "In fact, I'm going to paint this whole fucking room in your cum tonight."

You watch as Sylus lays on his stomach right in front of you, inches from where the thick dildo is stretching your needy cunt so obscenely. His eyes are glued to the lewd spectacle, watching avidly as the toy plunges in and out, your swollen pussy lips clinging to it with each withdraw.

The angle gives him an unobstructed view of your engorged clit, the sensitive nub peeking out from beneath the hood with each thrust.

"You are going to make me cum without even touching my cock"

Biting your lip, you manage to gasp out, "Good, I recall you being very intrigued by the idea of sitting and watching. I hope you enjoy the show, Sylus."

"I'm going to watch every second. I want to see the exact moment when you can't take anymore, and then I'm going to take over, kitten"

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as the intense pleasure builds to a fever pitch, your body tensing as your climax fast approaches. You're teetering on the brink, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

"I'm about to cum, Sy!" you cry out, my voice pitchy and desperate. "Fuck!"

He watches as your hips stutter and jerk erratically, your movements growing more desperate by the second.

"Lay on the bed, Y/N. Now"

With trembling limbs, you do as he says, carefully pulling the slick dildo from your clenching hole. A fresh gush of your arousal drips out, painting your inner thigh.

"Just like that. Spread your legs for me, let me see that pretty little pussy."

Blushing furiously, you hesitantly part your thighs, baring your swollen folds to his eyes. Your clit is angry, throbbing red, just begging for his touch. 

"Can I?"

Your body is burning up, every nerve ending screaming for his touch. The words spill out of you, raw and desperate.

"Please, Sylus... you can do whatever the fuck you want. Suck it, lick it, tug it, bite it. Just please put your mouth on me," you beg shamelessly, too far gone to care about the desperation in your voice.

Without a word, he settles between your spread thighs, the heat of his breath ghosting over your sex. You shudder, your hips twitching with anticipation.

Slowly, torturously, Sylus leans in and drags the flat of his tongue along your slit, from your entrance up to your clit. He takes his time, savoring you, before suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips.

You cry out, back arching off the bed as bolts of pleasure course through your body. Your fingers tangle in his silky hair, holding him in place.

Your thighs begin to tremble, your muscles drawing taut as the coil of tension in your core winds tighter and tighter. You can feel your orgasm building, cresting, ready to sweep you away.

"Fuck, Sy!" you keen "Don't stop, please don't stop! I'm... I'm gonna...!"

As Sylus' finger curls inside you, expertly finding that sensitive spongy spot, you feel the dam burst.

"FUCK, SYLUS!" you scream, your body convulsing uncontrollably as wave after wave of ecstasy rips through you.

At the first gush of your release, Sylus opens his mouth wide, covering your spasming cunt completely with his lips. He begins to drink down greedily, his tongue lapping up every drop.

Tears of rapture stream down your face, your eyes screwed shut as you surrender to the all consuming bliss radiating from your core. Your fingers tighten in his hair, anchoring yourself to him as the world spins and fades away.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your orgasm begins to subside. Your grip on Sylus' hair loosens, your body going limp as the last shuddering aftershock rolls through you.

Sylus leans over you and pecks your lips softly, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, before pulling back slightly to gaze down at your ravaged expression.

Your hand drifts down, exploring, until you encounter the damp patch on the front of his tailored trousers. You lift your fingers to your lips, your smile coy and knowing as you lick them clean, tasting the evidence of Sylus' own release.

Sylus raises a brow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "What?" he asks "You like guys who come in their pants, kitten?"

You shake your head, still smiling, your eyes sparkling with mischief and something akin to awe. "No, just you," you murmur softly. "Do you know how good you'd have to be to make the leader of Onychinus cum in his pants?"

Sylus chuckles, a deep, rich sound that resonates through his chest. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your lips as he speaks. "I suppose you're about to find out, sweetie. If I can reduce a Deepspace Hunter to a quivering, begging mess... imagine what I can do when I really put my mind to it."