#Xavier lads

[sleepylittlestarwrites]

♡ ∩_∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ ￣U U￣ ⤷ 21 days ✰ pairing: soft!dom⌇xavier ⤷ fem!sub⌇reader

✰ cw: mdni, graphic sexual content, based on xavier's 21 days card, fingering, marking (bites/hickeys), oral: ꒰f&m receiving꒱, possessive behavior, no protection, slight spoilers to xavier's shooting stars myth, loss of virginity (both xavier and mc), consensual somnophilia at the end (if you squint), so much squirting, cum... slurping? (so cringe I’m sorry, idk what to call it😩), dry humping/cumming in boxers, self-pleasure, mild dirty talk compared to my usual xavier, multiple orgasms, overstim, angel/sweet girl/good girl used sparingly

• wc: 10.3k 🌸

• tags: @kodaswrld & @issysh3ll - as always; thank you for the dividers! :))

Xavier sits on the edge of the bed, lost in thought as he gazes at your sleeping form. The moonlight filtering through the window casts a soft glow on your peaceful face, making you look even more breathtaking than usual. He settles for simply drinking in the sight of you—the way your lips slightly part, the fan of your long lashes against your cheeks, the soft swell of your breasts beneath the sheets. Tomorrow, this mission ends, and who knows if or when he'll get to be this close to you again.

Over the past 21 days, Xavier has poured every ounce of his being into making this assignment memorable for you. Each day, he’s gone out of his way to pamper and spoil you, hoping that somehow, someway, you'll realize the depth of his feelings. Cooking your favorite meals, planning surprise outings, and even indulging in your love for anime marathons—he’s done it all.

And there were moments… fleeting yet precious, where Xavier dared to hope his feelings might be reciprocated. Like during one of the many days spent lounging around in front of the TV, when you fell asleep in his arms, your head resting comfortably on his chest… Or the soft giggle of your laugh echoing in the kitchen as he taught you to cook one of his ancestral recipes. 

Each interaction feels like a precious treasure, a fleeting glimpse into a life he desperately craves but fears he can never fully have—your head tilting back in that laughter, free and carefree in a way he rarely sees. Your slender fingers brushing against his arm as you reach for popcorn, sending sparks of electricity racing across his skin. The tender expression on your face as you watch him train, pride and something much softer simmering in your eyes.

It’s the quiet moments that speak volumes, though. Like the time you caught him stargazing on the balcony, and instead of interrupting, you simply leaned against the railing beside him, following his gaze to the vast expanse above. “It's beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper. Almost as beautiful as the stars I see in your eyes.” Those words had lodged themselves in Xavier’s heart, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty eating away at him.

But as the moon makes its way to the tip of the sky, signaling the end of your time together, reality and doubt come crashing down on him full-force. Maybe you really do just see him as a friend, an ally, nothing more... And that knowledge brings a bittersweet pain to his heart, a sting sharper than any blade.

As the faint whisper of your voice floats through the air, Xavier's heart skips a beat, drawn towards you like a magnet. He can only watch in stunned silence as the sheet slips from your body, revealing your bare breasts covered only by a thin white tank top. His breath hitches in his throat, heart pounding wildly against his chest as his eyes catch the outline of your nipples, perking in the cool air around them. It's almost like seeing you vulnerable for the very first time, a sight reserved only for his dreams until now.

You start to stir slightly under his gaze, instinctively nuzzling closer to his warmth without waking up, and Xavier swears he feels time stop completely. Unable to resist, his eyes trail slowly down your neck, taking in every inch of exposed skin, the graceful curve of your collarbone, leading down, down to where the flimsy fabric pools between your breasts. 

With a strangled groan, Xavier forces himself to tear his gaze away from your tempting form, feeling like he's ripping his own heart out in the process. A final, shuddering breath later and he’s slipping from the room, gently clicking the door shut behind him. He moves through the space on autopilot, his body acting on instinct as his mind reels. Upstairs, in the spare bedroom he's been using, he spots the workout equipment set up in the corner. Perfect.

He moves through the motions of his workout with a single-minded focus, sweat dripping down his lean form as he grips the pull-up bar. His muscles strain and flex with each movement, a testament to the rigorous training regimen he's maintained for centuries. The burn in his arms is a welcome distraction from the storm in his heart, but even as he pushes his body to its absolute limit, he can't shake the image of your sleeping form from his mind.

So, still shaken, Xavier drags himself into the bathroom adjacent to the guest room. He turns the faucet to the coldest setting possible, bracing himself as the icy water cascades over his heated skin, trying desperately to clear his mind of the intoxicating image of your nearly nude form tangled in the sheets downstairs.

But even as the frigid spray assaults his senses, he can’t shake the vivid memory... His imagination starts running wild, conjuring up scenarios of how the sheets might have slipped even lower while he'd been lost in his workout. Perhaps exposing the delicate curves of your hips, the cute little junction between your thighs...

He grips the tiled wall with trembling hands, knuckles turning white as he fights to regain control. Each droplet of ice-cold water seems to caress his body like ghostly fingers, mimicking sensations he aches to experience with you.

Desperate for distraction, Xavier starts reciting equations, ancient alien languages, anything to occupy his thoughts. But he can’t stop imagining your melodious laugh echoing off the tiles, your slender arms wrapping around him from behind...

With a strangled groan, he allows his resolve to crumble, letting the water grow hotter, his traitorous hand already roaming over his slick, chilled skin. He bites back a groan as his hand drifts, fingers splayed wide as if trying to map every contour of muscle, grazing the soft silvery curls that lead down to...

Xavier hisses through clenched teeth, grip tightening on the tiles as his fingers curl around his hardening length, and with a shaky exhale, he opens the floodgate of forbidden images—phantom touches, whispered words, shared breaths. 

His eyes shut tight as if to block out the temptation, but he's already lost in fantasy, letting his mind wander to what it would feel like to have you pressed against him, your soft curves molding perfectly to the hard, wet planes of his body… He imagines trailing reverent kisses along the elegant column of your throat, tasting the salt of your skin, relishing the quickening pulse beneath his lips…

He murmurs your name then, the sound swallowed by the rush of water. In his mind's eye, you’re looking up at him with hooded eyes, your lips parted invitingly, silently begging for more. Slowly, sensually, he’s exploring every inch of your body, mapping out the constellations of freckles and beauty marks that he's only glimpsed before.

But suddenly, like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, realization crashes over Xavier. He snaps out of his fantasizing, horror and shame flooding through him as he registers what he's done—what he was about to let himself do. Cursing vehemently under his breath, he wrenches open the glass door and steps out of the shower, nearly slipping on the wet tile in his haste. Even if only in his mind, every single time it feels like a violation, a betrayal of your trust.

Heart hammering, he yanks on fresh clothes with shaking hands. Everywhere he looks, he can practically see echoes of his sinful imaginings taunting him.

“I'm supposed to protect you, not...not defile you in my head like some kind of depraved monster.” Self-loathing laces his heated whisper as he stalks to the dresser, slamming his fist against it in frustration. 

Feeling like a caged animal, Xavier needs to do something else, anything, really, to distract himself from the thoughts rampaging through his mind. So he heads towards the kitchen with determined steps, quietly pulling ingredients and pots from their rightful places. But his hands aren’t steady, thanks to the sudden surge of adrenaline, and the knife he uses to chop vegetables makes jerky movements at best before nearly slicing his finger off. With a muffled curse, he settles for just dropping everything into the frying pan. He doesn't know whether the anger with himself or sheer stupidity made him believe he could cook this time, but within minutes, the room is filled with the smell of burning food.

Just as the smoke detector begins to shrill its warning, a soft, sleep-addled voice pierces through the chaos. “Xavier? What's going on?”

His head snaps up to see you standing in the doorway, a thin, bunny print robe wrapped loosely around your frame. Gratitude surges through him at the sight—at least you're covered now. Still, he can't help but let his gaze linger on the pretty curve of your neck, the way your hair is tousled from sleep.

“I...ah…” He clears his throat awkwardly, realizing he must look like a man possessed. “I was just trying to...distract myself.” The words come out quiet, tinged with embarrassment.

Without thinking, he’s reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your cheek. Your skin is still flushed and warm from the pillow, so impossibly soft… He wants to touch more, to gather you into his arms and soak you in, but he restrains himself.

“We both know I'm not very good at it, though," he mutters dryly, gesturing to the smoking mess in the pan. 

Taking in the scene before you with drowsy eyes and a quirked brow, a mixture of amusement and concern flickers across your features. You definitely walked in on Xavier amidst what seems like some intense self-reflection. Or perhaps a nervous breakdown? Either way, your heart can't help but soften at the adorably disheveled sight of him. The stressed set of his silver brows and the way he nervously avoids eye contact only confirms that something is indeed on his mind. Honestly, you don't think you've ever seen him so flustered before...

“Distract yourself from what?” you ask, taking a step closer, the ties of your robe swaying as softly as your voice. The floral scent of your perfume mingles with the smell of burnt food, creating a strange but oddly comforting aroma.

Reaching out, your tiny hand comes to rest on his forearm, and even through the fabric of his shirt, your touch feels electric, sending sparks racing along Xavier’s nerves. “Is everything okay, Xavier?” Your voice is tender, searching, full of genuine worry.

Xavier stiffens under your touch, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He's definitely in trouble now… His lips part to respond, but for a moment, no words come out. How exactly does one explain their straying thoughts, their wandering hands, without sounding like a pervert? Or worse, confirming the fact that he might just be one? 

When he finally meets your gaze again, he's acutely aware of the fire in his blue eyes, the smoky haze having replaced his usual calm demeanor. He clears his throat again, a futile attempt to rid himself of the sudden dryness. “I, uh...I had some...um, troubling thoughts.”

Confusion clouds your eyes as you search his face, noting the flush coloring his pale cheeks and ears and the conflicted look in those piercing blue depths. Troubling thoughts? At this late hour? You furrow your brow, unconsciously leaning closer to him as if proximity alone could unravel the mysteries hidden within him.

It strikes you then, as inconvenient as it is untimely, the absurdity of the situation: 21 days later, you are still dancing aimlessly around each other, locked in an endless loop of 'what ifs', both refusing to breach that invisible barrier between you. It's almost laughable, really, in a bittersweet sort of way, how oblivious you both seem to be.

Desperate to ease the tension, to pull you both out of this uncomfortable silence, an idea sparks to life. “I know! Why don't we watch a movie?” You suggest brightly, internally cringing at how forced your enthusiasm sounds. But you forge ahead nonetheless. “We can make some popcorn, get all cozy on the couch… It might help take your mind off whatever’s bothering you.” Your gaze darts to the clock on the wall then, noting the late hour with a twinge of sadness. Only a few precious hours left together before you need to get ready to leave… 

The corners of Xavier's lips twitch into a weak smile as he nods. “Yeah, that sounds really nice.”

Hurriedly, he moves to help you prepare tea and snacks, gathering the necessary items onto a tray while stealing occasional glances at your profile. Something as simple as making tea together feels oddly intimate now, knowing it's possibly the last time he'll be doing it with you like this.

Once everything is ready, Xavier follows you to the living room, placing the tray carefully on the coffee table before settling down next to you on the couch. As the opening credits roll, he finally allows himself to lean back against the cushions, breathing in the calming scent of the tea mixed with the soothing floral notes of your perfume. 

Lost in the movie, your body betrays you, instinctively seeking his warmth and comfort. Gradually, imperceptibly, you allow yourself to drift closer to Xavier, until the mere inches between your bodies are insignificant.

Suddenly, a particularly terrifying jump scare blares from the speakers, causing you to jolt violently. In your panic, your hands fly up to clutch at the first solid thing nearby—in this case, the firm planes of Xavier's chest. Soft breasts press against his arm as you wedge yourself against his side, face burying itself into the crook of his neck with a startled gasp.

“Oh absolutely not!” you exclaim, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Your racing heart pounds erratically, but you can't tell anymore if it's solely due to the scary scene unfolding on screen since the musky scent of Xavier’s skin fills your nostrils, the rapid thrum of his pulse matching your own. For a moment, you simply revel in being this close to him, wishing you could stay enveloped in his protective embrace forever.

Then his quiet laughter fills the room, warm puffs of air tickling the top of your head as his hand slides over your back in a soothing rhythm. He watches as you huddle into him, heartbeat gradually returning to normal but fingers remaining firmly clasped onto his shirt. 

With a gentle touch, he lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jawline as he gazes down into your wide, scared eyes. Your breath hitches as he starts tracing feather-light patterns along your jaw, setting your nerve endings ablaze with every delicate touch. Those striking blue eyes hold you captive, boring into your soul with an intensity that steals the very air from your lungs.

Almost unconsciously, your tongue darts out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and you watch transfixed as Xavier's gaze zeroes in on the movement. Time seems to stretch and warp around you, narrowing down to this singular, pivotal moment hanging suspended between you both.

“I-is… is everything alright?” Your voice emerges as a trembling whisper, scarcely audible over the pounding of your heart as it picks up in speed once again. But beneath the shy uncertainty in your tone, there's an undercurrent of longing, a desperate plea for him to take this chance, to finally shatter the invisible walls keeping you apart, because you're not so sure if you dare to do it yourself.

“Honestly? It’s everything but alright.”—that would be Xavier’s answer to your question, were he actually able to speak. His gaze shifts down to your mouth, the sight of your plush pink lips stealing the last reserves of his sanity. Despite the desperate need coursing through him, he feels surprisingly shy, almost uncertain. “I…” he pauses, swallowed by the weight of the confession hovering on the tip of his tongue. “I want to kiss you...” The words end up tumbling out in a hushed murmur, laced with hope and longing.

A single, very trembly nod is all you can muster up, a myriad of emotions playing across your delicate features—surprise, joy, nervousness, and above all, overwhelming desire. You hardly even dare to breathe, scared your sudden movement might shatter the moment completely.

As if moving through a dream, Xavier leans in with painstaking slowness, giving you every opportunity to pull away, to rethink. But you remain rooted to the spot, pulse fluttering wildly in your throat as anticipation coils tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

The first brush of his lips against yours is impossibly soft, almost tentative. A question seeking permission, the search for confirmation that this is truly happening. Slowly, savoringly, he deepens the pressure, one large hand coming up to cradle the nape of your neck as he angles your head to better fit his mouth to yours.

He kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe, reverent and ardent in equal measure. And the way his lips move against yours… you feel like you could combust on the spot from sheer ecstasy. When he finally pulls back, it's only far enough to rest his forehead against yours, sharing the same air in your mutual, blissed-out daze.

“I… I can't tell you how long I’ve wanted this.” The hushed confession spills from him like a secret hoarded too tightly for too long, an admission laden with unspoken meaning.

Cradling your face in his hands, he examines your features up close for what feels like the very first time—every freckle, every delicate curve, the soft parting of lips slightly reddened from his kisses. And then, like a whispered prayer, Xavier sees the single syllable fall from your lips in a breathless entreaty: “more.”

The whispered plea has his breath catching, heart pounding harder in his chest. Without breaking eye contact, he takes a deep breath and slowly pulls you onto his lap, cradling you like a precious treasure, one he's finally being allowed to rightfully claim.

He starts peppering your face with tender kisses, trailing from your forehead down to the tip of your nose before capturing your lips once more. With one hand buried in your hair and the other tracing lazy designs across the small of your back, he drinks you in like a man finally being fed a feast worthy of his insatiable appetite.

Soft moans escape his throat, mixing with your own needy whimpers as he tastes and trails his lips down the sensitive skin of your neck. Each flick of his tongue against your jugular vein, each graze of teeth against the lobe of your ear sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, making you arch into his embrace and tremble in his hold.

Suddenly, he’s picking you up, your body molding perfectly against the plush rug as he gently lays you down, the heat from the crackling fire casting a warm glow across your flushed skin. He hovers over you, drinking in the sight of your disheveled hair fanning out around your face, cheeks rosy from his kisses, those captivating eyes glazed with desire…

Slowly, reverently, he traces the outline of your parted lips with his thumb, marveling at how they quiver under his touch. "So beautiful," he murmurs, voice low and rough with barely restrained hunger. 

Your hands fist in the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as you tilt your head back in clear invitation. The feeling of his lips searing a trail down your throat is indescribable every single time, like a flame licking at every nerve ending, leaving a path of molten desire in its wake. “So good,” you whisper breathlessly against his ear, hands tightening their grip on his hair as he continues painting vibrant streaks of pleasure across your body with his mouth.

Large hands skim reverently up your sides, pushing the robe off your shoulders until it pools uselessly at your sides, revealing every inch of the tantalizing expanse of silky skin underneath. But it's the sight of that thin, straining tank top that makes his breath catch, pupils blown wide with sudden, all-consuming lust. Rosy peaks push insistently against the flimsy fabric again, betraying your body's arousal as you tremble beneath his heated gaze.

“May I?” The words are a low, strained rasp, quietly requesting further access to your body laid out so trustingly before him.

“Yes," you whimper breathlessly, lost to everything but the press of his skin against yours and the building ache between your thighs. "Please, don't stop..." His name tumbles from your lips then like a plea, a desperate cry to lose yourself in the madness consuming you both. And losing himself is exactly what Xavier does.

He takes his sweet time, drawing slow, wide circles around your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. He listens to your breathy whimpers, the little sounds you make as he toys with the hardened peaks beneath the fabric, goading you into a state of adorably flustered impatience. 

He finds himself growing increasingly entranced by the heat in your gaze and the tremors running through your body. Watching you squirm in his lap is quickly becoming his new fascination, an intoxicating blend of ecstasy and agony that he just can't resist. 

“Please…” The breathy plea tumbles from your lips unbidden, half-formed and threaded with desperation. Your hips twitch restlessly, chasing the phantom touch of his hands as they skim teasingly along your ribcage. The ache between your thighs starts pulsing with increasing urgency, dampening the thin fabric of your panties.

Impatiently, almost roughly, you yank your tank top over your head and toss it aside. Cool air pebbles your exposed flesh, rosy nipples standing at attention in the warm glow of the firelight. “Touch me," you demand, voice ragged with need. "I want to feel your hands on my bare skin, Xavier. Please..."

Xavier sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of you sprawled out, skin flushed prettily from the heat rolling off the fire, eyes darkened with unbridled desire, begging for his touch. For a split second, he simply stares, almost drunk on your beauty.

Then he's leaning in, a hand coming up to cradle one of those delicious swells, his thumb sliding teasingly over the taut peak again. “So incredibly perfect,” he murmurs reverently. An eager little moan parts your lips as he kneads the other breast just as delicately, drinking in every gasp and whimper that tumbles from your lips. “Like rose petals wrapped in silk…”

His mouth descends upon yours again, inhaling that adorable little noise, greedy for your taste, drunk on your pleasure. One hand strays lower, tracing the luscious curve of your hip, slipping under the elastic band of your panties, sliding back and forth over the smooth, bare skin of your ass.

“Oh f-fuck,” he groans against your lips, burying his face in the hollow of your throat, panting against your pulse. “You're so soft, so warm…”

Lowering his head, he drags the flat of his tongue along the underside of one breast before drawing the peak into the wetness of his mouth. He suckles gently, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue as his hand continues its sensual massage on the other side.

His eyes never stray from yours… molten blue darkening with barely restrained hunger as he drinks in your every reaction. His control frays visibly with each roll of your hips, each needy sound that falls from your lips. It's clear the leash on his restraint is going fast, slipping another notch as you arch your tit into his mouth with a breathless keen. Soon, Xavier won't be able to hold back the tidal wave of long-suppressed desire crashing over him. Gods, he's almost terrified he might lose control and hurt you...

He pulls back slightly then, studying you for a brief moment before blurting out the first thing that pops into his head. "Are… are you sure about this?" he rasps, almost choking on the words.

“Because...because I'm barely hanging on by a thread here.” Confessing this to you leaves Xavier feeling almost naked, vulnerable in his own skin. It's both a frightening and exhilarating feeling. “I don't want to do anything you'll regret when we leave here,” he admits hoarsely, the fearful admission lining his words with raw sincerity.

Your hand cups his cheek tenderly, fingertips brushing lightly over the edge of his jawline. In this moment, you can feel the tension coiled tightly within him, see the vulnerability swimming in those mesmerizing blue depths. It takes your breath away, the depth of emotion, the sheer weight of his concern for your wellbeing.

“I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life, Xavier," you murmur, voice soft yet filled with conviction. Shifting closer, you nuzzle your nose against his, bringing your forehead to rest gently against his own. "I want this. I want you. And I could never, ever regret being with you. It just isn’t possible.”

To emphasize your point, you pepper feather-light kisses along his cheekbone, down the line of his throat. Each press of your lips is a whispered promise, an affirmation of your desire. “Let yourself go,” you breathe against his pulse point. "I can handle whatever you have to give me.”

Your free hand slides down his chest, fingertips tracing the rigid planes of his abdomen before coming to rest just above the waistband of his pants. You look up at him through lowered lashes, eyes smoldering with blatant lust. "Show me," you purr, voice dripping with honey and sin. "Show me how much you want me, Xavier."

His eyes bore into yours, a storm of emotions swirling in those cerulean depths—desire, adoration, disbelief, and a fierce intensity that steals your breath. For a long, suspended moment, he simply stares at you, as if committing every detail of your face to memory. The air between you feels so charged… practically electric with the weight of this pivotal moment.

Then something shifts, a subtle change in his demeanor. The gentleness remains, but it's now tempered with a steely resolve that sends shivers racing down your spine. Large hands come up to frame your face, thumbs stroking reverently along your cheekbones as he holds your gaze captive.

“Just remember: you asked for it.” In one fluid motion, he surges forward, claiming your lips in a searing kiss that steals the very air from your lungs. It's a kiss of possession, of raw need, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke against yours in a blatant imitation of much more intimate acts.

Then he breaks the kiss, only to descend upon your exposed breasts. His mouth latches onto one peaked nipple, suckling hungrily with a roughness that wasn't present earlier. He alternates between showering it with hot, wet kisses and scraping his teeth lightly over the hardened bud, earning delicious whimpers from your parted lips.

Meanwhile, his hand is hard at work on the other, squeezing, fondling, as if trying to etch the very feeling of you into his skin… His grip is almost punishingly firm, but it only serves to stoke the fire of need smoldering in your belly, urging you to beg and plead for more.

And just when you think you can't take it any longer, that he's going to leave that nipple just as bruised and needy as the last, he suddenly releases it with a soft pop, dragging his mouth up the center of your chest, over your collarbone, until he's level with your ear.

“I couldn't sleep earlier, you know,” he confesses quietly, large hands continuing their sensual exploration of your curves. “So I came to check on you, and…” he pauses, swallowing thickly. “The sight of you lying there in this thin little top, your nipples practically begging for my touch…”

One calloused palm cups your breast, thumb circling the stiff peak. "It took every ounce of my control not to crawl into bed with you then, to wake you up with my mouth all over these perfect tits..." The crude words from his typically sweet mouth, combined with the heat of his gaze boring into you, makes your stomach flutter uncontrollably 

“I even had to jerk off in the bathroom because I couldn't control my thoughts.” His words send a shiver of delight down your spine, fueling the growing heat in your core. “Because I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you, right there in your bed, your cute little body wiggling and gasping beneath mine.”

Holy hell… the imagery that invades your mind as he speaks sets your blood aflame. You can't help but picture him, flushed and panting, gripping himself with a white-knuckled fist against the cool tiles of the bathroom. Stroke after stroke, reliving the fantasy of having you splayed out before him, aching and needy, as he sinks into you…

Tearing yourself away from the erotic mental image proves difficult, but you force your gaze to lock with his, drinking in the molten blue fire consuming those icy irises.

“I wish you had,” you rasp, reaching up to thread trembling fingers into silvery locks. Your other hand maps the defined expanse of his back, nails raking lightly before digging in. “Woken me up like that, that is. I would've let you do anything you wanted.” The words are barely a whisper but they're weighted like a solemn vow.

Something in Xavier seems to break with your admission—the dam holding back centuries of restrained emotion crashing and shattering in a mere instant. Gone is the brooding tension, the tightly leashed control that defines him. In its place blooms unrestrained delight, shining through his face with luminous joy. He looks at you with an expression that seems to say 'Is this real? Do you truly want me that much?' His almost boyish grin somehow manages to be disarmingly innocent yet still sexy as sin. 

Slowly, reverently, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your cheek. "Is that so?" he murmurs playfully, nose brushing against yours. 

This pure happiness radiating from him, his usually stern features transformed by that boyish smile, makes you feel all warm and squishy inside. Impulsively, you tilt your chin up to capture his lips in a sweet, fleeting kiss. “Mmhmm,” you hum against his mouth, punctuating the affirmation with a light peck to the corner of his lips. Trailing your fingers through the soft strands of his hair again, you take time to marvel at how it feels like cool silk sliding over your fingertips, like moonlight turned tangible.

“Let me put it this way…” you murmur shyly, ducking your head to hide the fierce blush spreading across your cheeks. The idea of admitting the depth of your desire for him aloud fills you with giddy nerves and liquid heat swirling low in your belly. But the adoring look on Xavier's face, the sheer happiness you’re bringing him, emboldens you.

Slowly reaching out, you trace the elegant line of his jaw, marveling at the texture of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips. Your thumb skims across his lower lip and catches there.  “I want you so badly sometimes that it physically hurts," you confess, voice lowering to an awed whisper thick with longing. “Like...like a constant ache, thrumming through every cell.” Your free hand fists in the front of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer. 

“This proximity we've shared this past month, not being able to touch you the way I craved?" A little noise escapes you as he presses in, large hands coming up to bracket your ribs. With a shaky inhale, you risk one more statement heavy with meaning. “I was dreaming of you tonight, when you came into my room to check on me. I dream of you every night, Xavier… Asleep or awake.

This soft confession of yours causes a soundless explosion to ignite in Xavier's chest. There's so much pent-up emotion clawing for release… he barely knows where to start or how to even begin to articulate everything he wants, everything he's never even admitted out loud. But what he can do is react. Without either thought or grace, he moves. Leans in. Claims your lips in a powerful, bruising kiss.

There's a fierce desperation in the way he touches you now, an urgency that ignites like a forest fire threatening to consume all in its path, spreading from one acre to another, unable and unwilling to be tamed until there's nothing left but charred remains and ashes in its wake. 

Even in the dancing glow of the fire, you can see the intensity smoldering in his icy blue gaze as it rakes over your body. Calloused fingertips skim down your sides, your hips, leaving tingles in their wake. Dipping into the waistband of your panties, Xavier hooks his thumbs under the delicate lace, slowly beginning to drag the scant fabric downward.

“The dreams…” he murmurs, the soft words laced with barely restrained lust. “They’ll be nothing compared to the real thing. And I'm going to make each and every one come true... Starting right now.”

With a final tug, he strips your panties away completely, baring you fully to his hungry gaze. Then his mouth is trailing scorching kisses down your throat, pausing to suck lightly at your racing pulse point. Lower and lower he goes, mapping the swell of your breasts with lips and tongue, dipping into your navel teasingly. Finally, thank the gods, he settles between your parted thighs.

For centuries, Xavier has trailed in the shadows of your life after life, an unseen protector, a quiet admirer, a devoted lover. Ever patient, ever steadfast, his focus on you has never once wavered.

And now here he is, reverently tracing his tongue along your dampened folds, worshiping your pussy as his fingers dig deep into your thighs to hold you down. He buries his face deeper, lapping at your sensitive flesh with firm strokes. 

As Xavier's skilled tongue paints swirls around the sensitive bud, your fingers tangle desperately in his hair. Hips bucking into his touch, shameless moans spill freely from your lips as jolts of pure pleasure radiate through you.

Through hooded eyes, you watch him work, face flushed and eyes feverishly intense, completely enraptured by your reactions. Each shudder and keen is met with a low groan that vibrates deliciously against you.    

Lost in a haze of sensory overload, Xavier grinds his cloth-covered erection desperately against the plush rug below. Each roll of his hips and swirl of his tongue around your throbbing bud brings him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, angel,” he rasps between long, languid laps. "Your taste...I could drown in it." Strong hands grip your thighs harder as his grinds against the floor grow almost frantic. The sight of this incredible man reduced to dry humping the ground, clearly wild with need for you, sends a dark thrill zinging down your spine.

But suddenly, he pulls back, panting harshly. Eyes glazed with lust meet yours, a telltale flush high on his cheekbones, spreading up to his ears. "I..." Xavier begins hoarsely, voice strained. “This is a first for me...”

In the midst of confusion over such a mind-blowing revelation, his hot mouth closes over your clit again and sucks HARD.

Panting, moaning, your senses spinning out of control as the pleasure becomes almost overwhelming, you blink at him in a daze of pure delight. With no hope of words if he keeps on, you reach for him and tug at his hair, trying to bring his eyes back to yours.

Gasping, you manage to force words past the desire clogging your throat, soft but laden with importance. "Me too," you admit to him, almost embarrassed to do so, somehow worried that this knowledge might scare him off. 

But Xavier's eyes just widen in shock, a myriad of emotions playing across his lovely features as your confession sinks in. Disbelief wars with elation, awe with relief, as he processes this precious gift of information.

“Wait... you..." His voice emerges rough with feeling, barely even there at all. Slowly, reverently, he crawls back up your body, settling between your splayed thighs without putting his full weight on you. Large, calloused hands cup your face gently, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks.

“You’re saying that I would be...your first, too?" The question hangs in the charged air between you, practically trembling with scarcely contained emotion. Wonder colors Xavier’s tone, and he can’t help but feel that maybe this is the universe's way of making up for all the years of unrequited yearning and pain he’s suffered.

A hushed noise, desperate and needy, spills from Xavier as his mouth descends onto yours, swallowing down the breathy confirmation spilling from your lips. It's an intoxicating melody that drives him wild, a song he wants to hear over and over again.

Slowly, deliberately, his fingers continue their sinful torment, a tantalizing dance that's only purpose is to have you writhing and moaning beneath him as he catalogs each quiver, every cute little sound..

They trace maddeningly slow paths over your skin, turning your soft whimpers into full-fledged gasps of pleasure. The longer he does this, the louder you get, the more it fuels his confidence, his satisfaction.

Two long fingers steal through your slick folds and begin making lazy circles around your throbbing clit, the sensation sending shudders rippling through you. 

His thumb slides down to your entrance, circling and teasing. Then suddenly it thrusts inside, followed by a second finger, penetrating you deeply in a slow and torturous rhythm, testing your readiness. “Oh god..." he groans against your lips, feeling you spasm around him.

“So fucking tight…" With his thumb still hooked inside you, he presses upwards to massage your g-spot while his fingers fill you up perfectly. 

Your back arches off the plush carpet, head thrown back in ecstasy. Electric pleasure courses through every nerve ending, building to a crescendo with each perfect stroke.

"Yes, oh god yes!" you keen breathlessly, hips rolling wildly to meet his thrusts. The obscene squelch of your arousal fills the room as he works you skillfully towards your peak like he’s prepared for this moment his entire life. Every nerve ending is alight with blissful fire, muscles starting to quake and tighten.

Through half-lidded eyes glazed over with lust, you watch him work, drinking in the sight of this magnificent man coming undone for you. Sweat gleams on his brow, muscles straining as he holds himself back from simply fucking you into the ground.

On his own lust-fueled cloud, Xavier feels the tight, squeezing pull around his fingers, an unmistakable sign that you're giving in to the tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you.

“I can—I can feel it. Oh god, angel, you're—" The breath gets knocked out of him as pleasure sweeps over him, clouding his vision, fogging his thoughts as his cock pulsates, spilling hot seed between his thighs, filling up his boxers and soaking through his pajama pants.

The sight of him coming undone is just too much, your world shattering into a million tiny pieces. Throwing your head back with a silent scream, your pussy clamps down HARD on his pistoning fingers, fluttering wildly as wave after wave of mind-melting ecstasy consumes you. Clear fluid gushes out, soaking his hand and your inner thighs, trickling down to the rug beneath you.

The intensity of your climax, coupled with his talented fingers milking every last throbbing pulse of pleasure from you, leaves you drained and sobbing, the absolute sweetest sort of broken. Panting heavily, limbs jelly-like, you collapse back onto the carpet with a shuddering sigh.

His eyes catch yours again as you peek up at him sheepishly, mumbling an embarrassed apology, and immediately that trademark smile lights up his face. And the look in his eyes? Pure male pride and delight at the mess he's reduced you to, a satisfied grin curving his full lips as he shakes his head.

“Don't you dare apologize," Xavier murmurs firmly. "Never apologize for being perfect." 

And then he does something that blows your mind even more, if that's even possible. Ever-so-slowly, he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, parting his lips, letting you see the tip of his tongue snake out, tasting what belongs to him. His moan echoes yours.

Then he’s leaning in, tongue lapping at your messy slit with unrestrained hunger. He groans at the taste, relishing the evidence of your pleasure like the finest wine. Strong hands grasp your hips, holding you steady as he eats you like a starving man, determined not to waste a single drop. 

All thoughts of embarrassment scatter entirely as new tingles of arousal bloom under his relentless ministrations. The wet glide of his tongue drags along your sensitive folds, delving deep to lap at your clenching hole.

“Do it again," Xavier all but growls against your pussy, the vibrations stoking the growing flames. "Wanna taste it straight from the source this time."

He seals his lips around your throbbing clit and sucks HARD, two thick fingers plunging back into your sopping cunt.

Squealing in shock and ecstasy, your second climax crashes over you mere moments after the first. Back arching nearly painfully, you fist your hands in his hair, grinding yourself wildly against his hungry mouth.

Xavier is like a man possessed… greedy noises rumbling in his chest as he laps up your newest flood. The obscene slurping sounds fill the room, punctuated by your keening cries. He seems determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your shaking form.

Before you've even started to come down, he's already working you towards another peak. Fingers pump in and out rapidly, thumb curling just right to hit that magic spot inside you with every thrust. His tongue swirls and flicks mercilessly over your sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between kittenish licks and powerful sucks.

"Too...much...oh god!" you babble incoherently, overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation. Drool leaks from the corner of your slack mouth as your brain short circuits from overstimulation. The pleasure is edged with a hint of pain, pushing you to your limits.

But he still just won’t stop… growing bolder, more demanding. Groaning into your pussy, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously. Barely registering his husky murmur of “need… to get you ready for me... Just a little more, I promise," cuts through the haze of blinding pleasure clouding your mind, and you can only whimper and moan helplessly. Your body is no longer your own, entirely at the mercy of Xavier's wicked mouth and fingers…

And gods, he plays you like perfectly, a willing instrument in his hands, coaxing out ecstasy with seemingly endless stamina. Sweat glistens on his brow, muscles flexing beautifully as he worships your quivering sex with single-minded focus.

“It’s just… you taste so good…" Xavier groans appreciatively, briefly releasing your swollen clit briefly. “Could feast on this pretty pussy for hours…” To punctuate his statement, he dives back in, lapping and suckling like a starving man.

His tongue delves deeper, spearing into your fluttering channel, fucking you open with filthy slurps. Then his fingers are slipping back in, pumping faster, harder, stretching you exquisitely as they curl over that magic bundle of nerves.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!" you keen wildly, much too far gone to care about volume or composure. The coil in your belly winds tighter, tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Xavier still can't quite believe what's happening, his fingers buried deep in your slick heat as his lips and tongue continue their torturous assault. His name echoes around the room as a chant in response to his efforts, music he plans to listen to every goddamn night if he has anything to say about it.

He's aware that you're close again, cries and whimpers ripped from your throat like a desperate plea for salvation. And so he begins his final crescendo, pulling out all the stops for your finale. His tongue performs lazy, teasing circles around your throbbing clit while his fingers piston in and out in tandem with his lips. 

A particularly sharp nip catapults you over the edge into sheer ecstasy. Pleasure, pure and molten, sears through every nerve ending, your back bowing sharply off the floor as you come undone again with a ragged cry of his name.

With a triumphant groan of his own, Xavier follows suit, hips jerking erratically as he spills hot and heavy into his clothing.

As the waves of euphoria gradually ebb, leaving you limp and twitching in the aftermath, you sense rather than see him sit back on his haunches. His breathing is harsh and labored in the charged air between you. When you finally do manage to focus on his face, his expression makes your heart flutter—adoration mingled with possessive hunger, like a wolf eyeing its prey.

"I...we should probably..." he starts quietly, voice hoarse with exertion and residual need. "Maybe we should stop here tonight…” But even as he says it, there's clear reluctance underlying the words, his hands twitching with the urge to touch you further.

Blinking up at him dazedly, eyelids drooping from post-orgasmic bliss, you slowly shake your head in soft disagreement. The tenderness of his voice, that note of reluctance as he suggests stopping purely for your wellbeing, only makes you want him more.

Smirking softly, your body humming with contentment, you move to straddle his lap. Ruffling fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, your gaze softens as you take in his features. Cheeks flushed from pleasure and exertion, pupils dilated to near-black pools in a way that sets all your nerves alight… His lips are red and slightly parted, panting softly in the otherwise quiet room.

“I know you want more, Xavier…” you whisper playfully, half-teasing, but also completely sincere. "I can see it written all over your face.” One hand caresses down his jaw to his neck, urging him closer until you can claim his lips in a languid kiss.

Your fingertips trace delicate patterns along the strong column of his throat, savoring the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath the pads of your fingers. Breaking the kiss with a soft nip to his bottom lip, you pull back just enough to meet his smoldering gaze head-on, a mischievous glint dancing in your own.

“I know I want more,” you breathe out, the words sending shivers racing down your spine as you say them aloud. "I want to feel every thick inch of you inside me, filling me up until I'm stuffed full and aching from it…”

To emphasize your point, you roll your hips, grinding your slick folds along the prominent bulge tenting the front of his pajama pants. The fabric is already damp with his release, providing delicious friction against your sensitive flesh.

“And you're still so hard for me already," you purr approvingly, circling your hips in languid figure-eights. "Like your body knows exactly what it needs...what we need.”

Freeing his impressive length, you watch with hooded eyes as it springs forth, long and thick and so deliciously messy. A thrill of anticipation shoots through you at the sight, your inner walls clenching hungrily around nothing.

“I mean, we both knew that wasn't going to be enough, didn't we?" you murmur playfully, giving him a firm squeeze before sliding down his body and settling between his spread thighs.

“Not when we have all these pent-up desires finally coming to a head," you continue breathlessly, placing feather-light kisses along his length as you speak.

“And not when being with you is all I can even think about anymore…”

Peering up at him through lowered lashes, you maintain unwavering eye contact as you extend your tongue, circling it around the swollen head and flicking over the weeping slit teasingly. Your free hand splays out, mapping the chiseled planes of his abdomen, feeling the muscles jump and flex beneath your palm.

“And you taste so good, Xavier…” you murmur with a pout, “you won't make me stop, will you?"

“No, of course I won't make you stop…" Xavier rasps, large hands coming to rest on either side of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, not pushing or pulling, but resting there like a promise and a plea all at once. 

“Not now, not ever," he promises, voice rough with barely restrained need. His cock twitches insistently against your cheek, begging for attention.

Emboldened by his desperate pleas, you part your lips and take him into the wet heat of your mouth inch by delicious inch. Your tongue swirls around his thick shaft as you sink lower, lips stretching obscenely around his considerable girth as you swallow him down. "Mmmph!" A muffled moan vibrates around his shaft as you begin to work him over with enthusiastic bobs and slurps.

“Fuck yeah… just like that sweet girl, take it all for me," Tears start streaming freely down your face as Xavier suddenly snaps over the feeling of your hot mouth on his cock and takes complete control, roughly fucking your throat with powerful thrusts of his hips. Drool escapes the seal of your stretched lips, dribbling messily down your chin to splatter on your bouncing breasts. The obscene sounds of his flesh slapping against yours fill the room, punctuated by your choked gasps and gurgles and Xavier’s own guttural groans of pleasure.

“Such a good girl, taking me so pretty on your knees like this,” he grunts, his fingers digging painfully into your scalp now as he uses you like his own personal doll, making you swallow his length over and over until you nearly choke on it.

Despite the intensity and roughness, there's a deep satisfaction burning within you at having such a powerful effect on him. His loss of control, the primal desperation in his touches and thrusts, it's like a drug—intoxicating and addictive.

With a final few forceful thrusts, Xavier reaches his breaking point. His body tenses, muscles locked as his balls draw up tight, fingers digging hard into your scalp as the first jet of his cum spurts into the back of your throat, hitting the reflex point that has you coughing and gagging. But he doesn't stop fucking your mouth, driving himself home again and again until he's milked himself dry.

Then, falling limp on the plush rug, completely spent and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, he pants loudly, his cock twitching against his stomach.

Raising himself up on an elbow, he gazes down at you with the softest expression. One hand reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear as he speaks, voice barely a murmur and laden with emotion. "I… I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asks it like it's the most important question in the world, his anguish like a palpable thing in the air.

Drained and panting heavily, you take a moment to compose yourself before crawling languidly up the length of Xavier's trembling form. Straddling his hips, you grind your dripping core along his rapidly stiffening shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. “Never,” you breathe as you gaze into his eyes, pupils blown wide with renewed lust and emotion shining bright.

As you position yourself over Xavier, grasping his shaft and rubbing the broad head teasingly along your soaked slit, his hands come to rest on your hips, stilling your movements. "Wait, let me... " he says softly, blue eyes dark with affection and desire as he looks up at you.

In one smooth motion, he lifts you effortlessly, positioning you just above where he needs you most. Slowly, reverently, he begins to guide you downwards, the flared tip of his cock parting your dripping folds as he lowers you inch by excruciating inch. “That's it, just like that, angel. go slow... let me feel every bit of you taking me in," Xavier coaxes, voice low and heated as he watches your face intently, committing every fleeting expression of bliss to memory.

Halfway in, he bottoms out, his cock knocking right up against your cervix. For a few seconds, he simply stays still, his hands cradling your hips and his head falling back onto the floor with a soft sigh. Then he begins to move. Rocking your hips gently in sync with his so that each slow withdrawal drags a gasping moan from your lips, and each deep reentry has you throwing your head back with a sweet sob of pure rapture.

Lost in a haze of sensation, Xavier can’t even breathe as he revels in the exquisite feeling of your slick, velvety walls gripping him so tightly he can barely think past the pleasure.

Picking up the pace slightly, he rolls his hips, grinding against you as he pulls you down to meet each upward thrust. "So perfect," he groans brokenly, "taking me so well, like you were always meant to be filled by me." The dirty talk spills from his lips unbidden, his usual restraint shattered by the mind-melting pleasure of finally claiming you.

Soft, breathless praises fall from your kiss-swollen lips. "Mhmm, so good," you gasp out, tilting your hips to take him impossibly deeper. "So big, so hard inside me... stretching me so perfectly."

Moaning shamelessly, you drape yourself over his chest, peppering fervent kisses across his neck and jaw. "Made for me," you echo, nipping at his earlobe before sucking it between your teeth. 

Your back arches off the floor as Xavier suddenly flips your positions, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Yep, all for you," he agrees breathlessly. Gripping your thighs, he pushes your knees toward your shoulders, spreading you open completely and slipping back inside you with a sharp snap of his hips. 

"Oh f-fuck yes!" you cry out, the new angle allowing him to hit impossibly deeper, stoking the inferno building low in your belly.

Xavier sets a relentless pace now, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he pounds into you. Each thrust rocks your entire body, breasts bouncing with the force. Panting harshly, he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, greedily swallowing your desperate mewls.

Breaking away, he peppers hot kisses along your jaw before nuzzling into your neck, inhaling your scent. “Say it," he whispers against your skin, hips never faltering in their merciless rhythm. “Tell me who you were made for… tell me… that you’re mine." Fingers wrap loosely around your throat as he gazes down at you, blue eyes blazing with need, silently begging for your affirmation.

Although each pounding thrust steals your breath away, you force your lips open and moan out the words that he so desperately needs to hear. "Yours, Xavier," you gasp out, "Only yours... Now and forever.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you arch up to meet him as he pistons into you. The slight pressure he applies on your throat sends an electrifying bolt of lust through your system, forcing a strangled moan from your lips.

"You're so hard... S-so deep inside me…" you whimper, your voice music to Xavier’s ears as it echoes around the room. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your throat, punctuating the word with a sharp nip to your pulse point. His hips stutter, losing some of their rhythm as he nears the edge. "A-angel, I'm not... Gonna last..." 

The words tumble from your lips in a breathless, urgent tumult. "Xavier, please..." your voice trembles on the edge of a sob. "Come inside me, please, please... I need it…”

At the sound of your needy, wanton pleas, something in Xavier snaps. With a hoarse shout of your name, he hilts himself fully inside you and stills, every muscle locked in place. Hot spurts of his release paint your inner walls as he pulses and throbs, pumping what feels like endless streams of his cum deep into your spasming cunt.

And with one final grunt, Xavier gives you the final shove you need, setting off a ripple effect that carries through your system, dragging you under with its force. You writhe beneath him, riding out the tide of ecstasy as he continues thrusting, almost brutally hard. "So good…" he grunts, eyes blissed out and unfocused as he takes your body in reckless abandon.

Just when you're sure you've rung every last drop of satisfaction from him, he’s flipping you onto your stomach, spreading your knees wide as he reinserts his half-hard cock, resuming where right he left off.

“I need more," he murmurs, hands grasping the firm globes of your ass, spreading them deliciously wide as he drags the velvet head along your slick, puffy folds before slamming home again.

“Oh… oh god, Xav-" your protest cuts off into a keening cry as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, his sudden aggression and dominance shocking and thrilling in equal measure. He seems insatiable… still so hard even after coming so many times, the wet squelch of his cock churning up his own release filling the air obscenely.

As another climax swiftly builds, you bury your face in the plush rug, whimpering and mewling shamelessly into the fibers. The dichotomy between his outward gentleness and the barely restrained beast within is borderline frightening in the best possible way.

A fresh surge of heat floods Xavier's chest as you arch against him, demanding he fucks you harder. His hips pull back until only the thick head of his cock remains nestled against your sopping cunt, before slamming home over and over again, the *thwump* of his pelvis smacking against the lush curves of your ass. The impact has ripples spreading outward, causing the muscles in your thighs and lower back to quiver as you come again.

But as the last of your tremors fade away, Xavier still refuses to let up for a single moment, instead driving into you harder, faster. One hand tangles in your hair, pulling back until your entire body is arched impossibly, offering yourself completely to his ravaging thrusts. The other snakes around to roughly palm your breast, thumb pinching and swirling the sensitive bud in an echo of the way his cock fucks into you.

"P-please," you whine brokenly, pushing your hips back even more to meet his increasingly erratic thrusts. Your brain feels fuzzy, overloaded with sensation as he wrenches your body into a bow, presenting yourself to him so wantonly. "I n-need... More..."

Drool leaks from the corner of your slack mouth as he uses you ruthlessly, his movements growing clumsier and more desperate by the second. Panting heavily, sweat-dampened strands of silver hair clinging to his forehead, Xavier keeps that same relentless pace as he pounds into you from behind with a reckless abandon that only hints at the barely restrained desire eating him alive from the inside.

His blunt nails dig crescent shapes into the soft plush of your ass as he spreads you wider, allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. Leaning over your arched back, he brings his lips close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over the shell as he breathes out, "Didn't think... I had this in me... but the way you look... sprawled out... taking everything I give you..." 

He punctuates his words with a low groan, sharply biting down on the junction of your shoulder and neck. "Mine..." The word slurs slightly, breath fanning your cheek in warm gusts. “Only mine... ruin you for anyone else... won't ever crave another's touch... just... just mine..." He promises in a heady mixture of boyish excitement, desperate adoration and dark satisfaction.

As dawn breaks, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of orange and pink, Xavier finally relents, pulling out of your thoroughly used hole with a wet pop. He scoops you up into his strong arms, carrying you bridal-style towards the car, pausing occasionally to pepper your face with tender kisses. Once home, the moment your apartment door closes behind you, he pins you face-down against the kitchen counter, kicking your legs apart impatiently.

“Can’t wait another second," he murmurs, grinding his stiffening length between your ass cheeks. "Need to... fill you up 'til it takes." Strong hands yank your pants down, baring your dripping folds to the cool air. Then he's pushing inside you again, stretching you open around his thick girth. "Missed this already... missed the feeling of you squeezing me..."

He continues his ruthless rhythm, kneading the tense muscles in your back with eager hands as his hips meet your pliant form with unrestrained aggression. One particularly forceful pump pushes you up onto the tips of your toes, eliciting a throaty cry from your parted lips. “So pretty like this... marked up... covered in my cum…”

All day and night, Xavier ravages your body with a seemingly insatiable hunger, bending and folding you in every imaginable way. On the bed, on the couch, even pressed up against the shower wall as steam fills the room, his hard cock never stops moving within you. Whenever you feel yourself starting to go limp with exhaustion, he seems to find a fresh surge of energy, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from your spent form.

As the second day bleeds into a third, with your body aching deliciously and your thighs painted with his copious releases, he finally succumbs to sheer physical depletion. Still nestled deep inside your fluttering walls, he collapses sideways, pulling you flush against his sweat-slicked chest. Mumbling incoherently into your hair, he manages to get out a drowsy "love you,” the words slurred and heavy with spent passion and emotion.

Curling protectively around your smaller form, he nuzzles into the nape of your neck, seeking your comforting scent and warmth. His breathing evens out, drifting into a deep, sated slumber, the steady thump of his heartbeat lulling you into peaceful rest within the shelter of his embrace.

[muqingslover]

[ is that angst I smell? The menu for tonight offers the LADS boys and how they are post-breakup with you! yum! the reason for the break-up is open bc it's besides the point. Also, how do we feel about this layout? ]

Rafayel

Now playing: The cut that always bleeds by Conan Gray

Part of him had always expected this to happen. The ugly and resentful side of his heart that never believed in the so called "love" you held for him after the horrible things he went through and in the end he was proven right.

How many more reincarnations would he have to live through until you finally learned to love him? Or maybe this was his punishment for sacrificing the lives of his own people for someone who won't even look his way.

Personally, I don't think he's a weak, whiny baby most people describe him as. I firmly believe Rafayel can be resentful and angry, he just keeps it hidden so you won't see it. This time however? Oh you're seeing all the sides of him.

He wouldn't ever hurt you, absolutely not, but he will raise his voice when he questions why you were doing this to him, why were you forsaking him again, when he's given you everything he possibly could.

"Why is it never enough for you?! Why is it so damn hard for me to be enough for you?! Answer me!" The tears streaming down his face are something he doesn't even realize until his eyes begin to sting. How many centuries has it been since he had last cried?

For months he'd stay locked inside his studio and no one is allowed to visit, not even his aunt is able to help. The paintings he had of you were all ruined but Rafayel still found himself sketching your face like clockwork each time he stood in front of an empty canvas.

He feels angry, betrayed and he's just so, so hurt. I believe that depending on the reason behind the breakup it could very well be his last straw and will lead to him returning to the sea for good.

One day he's just gone without a trace and he's never coming back.

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Xavier

Now playing: The loneliest by Måneskin

He can't believe this is happening. Like, you choosing to break up with him was never even an option in his mind. Xavier would immediately assume it was his fault and beg for you to let him try and fix whatever went wrong.

His entire world shatters when you walk out the door and somehow it hurts so much more than when he held you in his arms as life left your body.

For months he would take part of the same missions you did, visit the same spaces, take the same train and do anything he could to be apart of your life. The silence between the two of you is suffocating but, surprisingly, Xavier is the one who makes the effort to make conversation about even the simplest of things.

His emotional state would completely drain him. He is so exhausted but he can't sleep at all. Not when he knows you chose to not be by his side.

Nevertheless, Xavier would keep trying, trying and trying and then some more. He brings you things he tried to cook in hope it'll make you smile the same way it did before only to end up throwing it away in a bin after you declined it.

Eventually his exhaustion would catch up to him and lead to a fatal mistake while out in a mission. He is stubborn, but there is only so much he can do when his own body is running into the ground.

"Can you see the sky from where you are?" He would ask during a call you received in the middle of the night in which, unknown to you, would be the last time you ever heard his voice. To Xavier however, he was relived he was able to hear your voice while under the same sky one last time.

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Zayne

Now playing: Promise by Laufey

The breakup itself is so quiet and calm. The two of you discussed things and he accepted it. Zayne would always, always, respect your choices. If being by his side was not something you wanted then he will let you go without any claw marks.

It was too awkward to be around each other so what follows are weeks of radio silence. He throws himself into his work, but he can't find the focus to properly do his job. His mind always go back to you— Were you okay? Were you thinking of him at all? Were you eating and sleeping well? Who was by your side now?

He breaks the no contact rule first to check on you and although he isn't sure if what he feels is genuine relief when he sees you doing well at least that's...closure. You're happy and healthy, even without him, and he couldn't ask for more than that.

Zayne feels as if everything around him turned dull and grey. His heart frozen in time after you left and he is nothing more than a husk that functions on autopilot until his body breaks down.

He feels cold regardless of the temperature now that you're not here and he believes it is what it is. He tried, he truly did his absolute best, but he can't take away from your happiness.

The two of you will return to being friends after a while and he will continue to support and care for you like he always did. To you, the moments you shared will soon be forgotten while Zayne he will forever remain frozen in those warm memories.

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Sylus

Now playing: The Moon will sing by The Crave Wives

His hands gently cradle your face as he asks you to please talk to him because there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. Except sometimes there are are things he simply can't do and that's something he would be forced to accept.

Sylus would ask to keep contact even if it's just for the sake of business and uses any and every excuse to see you or hear your voice. If he can't be wanted then he will be needed and if he can't be needed then he is okay with being used as long as it's by your hands.

In truth, he wouldn't ever give you up regardless if you fell for someone else or years pass. He will be frustrated and hurt at times, but he can be patient. He will wait until it's his turn to be deserving of your heart again.

Though that does not mean he will do absolutely nothing. Sylus would tell you every day that he still loves you and it doesn't matter what you say because he won't ever feel disencouraged.

"I'm not expecting anything or pressuring you. I'm only reminding you that my love for you won't change even if you're not by my side." His voice is like a gentle coo as his hand comes to pat your head, playfully ruffling your hair so you would drop the serious expression on your pretty face.

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Caleb

Now playing: In my room by Julia Wolf

The biggest CRASH out.

First, he knows you want to break up before you even gather up the courage to bring it up and he finds a way to stop you from saying it every. single. time.

"Caleb I think—" "Oh! I completely forgot! I got these tickets to the show you wanted to go! C'mon, c'mon! We'll be late!"

He is in strong denial after you finally manage to say it. He'd claim you're just confused about things and that it'll pass as long as you give it some time because you don't truly mean it. You need him, how could you ever think otherwise?

He will keep calling and texting you non-stop— He begs you to talk to him and rethink your choice. You're obviously making a mistake so please stop this already.

It would take a lot to make him stop. Unless you had an ironclad reason to not come back to him then he would keep going. When he does stop though? Oof.

Caleb could only endure the torture and damage done to him mentally and physically all those years because you were his anchor. His entire life is centered around you and now that you're gone he'd lose all of his motivation.

The last time you hear from him is through the news you'd receive about the colonel who took his own life.

"Please keep me close to your heart." Your eyes read the words on the letter while your other hand clutched the necklace he left for you. Would you grant him this one last, selfish wish of his?

[quicktosimp]

Soon enough Zayne is gonna be as gray as Sylus

Zayne: “Why do you have a mini safe?”

Sylus: “MC, Xavier, Caleb, and Rafayel have been on a junk food binge so I’m using the big guns.”

Zayne: “That won’t stop them, yknow.”

Sylus: “This baby is made out of tungsten carbide. I’d like to see them try to so much as put a dent in it.”

—————————————————————

Later on in the day

—————————————————————

Sylus: “How the hell did you guys open that safe?!”

MC: “Well…”

—————————————————————

A bit earlier that day

—————————————————————

Rafayel: “You covered the ground in flat stones?”

Xavier: “Yep, and I filled in the cracks.”

Rafayel: “You got the fire extinguisher?”

MC: “Mhm! All prepped if things go south.”

Rafayel: “Ready to lift it up Caleb?”

Caleb: “Born ready.”

Rafayel: “Now step back y’all. It’s bout to get hot!”

—————————————————————

Sylus: “I’m sorry but tungsten carbides heat resistant is up to 5,198°F.”

MC: “We know, we searched it up.”

Sylus: “So instead of trying to crack it open or have Xavier try to slice it with his sword you guys immediately used fire?”

Zayne: “You guys used that much heat in the house?!”

Rafayel: “Of course not. We used it in the backyard.”

Zayne: “That’s not any better! You guys could’ve gotten seriously injured!”

Xavier: “MC had a fire extinguisher.”

Zayne: “That doesn’t matter! That was still extremely careless!”

Sylus: “Impressive though.”

Zayne: “Don’t agree with them!”

[frostiexavier]

/) /) ~ ┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓ ( •-• ) ~ ♡ down to the last word ♡ /づづ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

☆ MINORS DNI | 18+ ONLY ☆

ミ☆ summary: Xavier has been improving on a lot of things lately such as cooking, cleaning and even staying up with you. But when he finds something you have been keeping from him, he has a few questions about your desires.

ミ☆ warning: smut, Xavier x fem! reader, unprotected p in v sex, bare grinding?, shirt used as a restraint, fem reader tied up, dom! Xavier, fluff the beginning and end, idk Xavier is very vocal and says dirty things

ミ☆ word count: 5k

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You finally clock out for the week at the hunter’s association. Your energy is drained but you are excited to spend the weekend off with Xavier. He got to leave early today because he finished his work early, as always, but you procrastinate.

Just as you were leaving the building you got a phone call from Xavier. You smile seeing his face pop up on your screen. You quickly answer the call.

“Hello?”, you smile while placing the phone to your ear.

“Hi honey, you haven’t eaten yet right?”, he says softly over the phone. Your heart melts hearing him call you the nickname he picked out for you. It’s so sweet that he is accustomed to it now. At the start of your relationship he was hesitant but now its second nature to him.

“No I haven’t, should I order us some takeout? I can pick it up on the way home”, you say as you get into your car, lock the doors and put the key into the ignition.

“There is no need, I cooked for us. It’s waiting for you when you get here but take your time. Be careful on the road”, he says sweetly over the phone but you freeze. He cooked? Should I order the takeout anyways? No, it would hurt his feelings. You hold back your sigh and respond to him.

“Okay then, are you sure you don’t want me to pick up sides or anything to go with it?”, you ask him and he chuckles over the phone.

“I know what you’re thinking but it's edible trust me, just come home”, he urges you. You chuckle and agree. You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. You make it to your apartment complex within 20 minutes and make your way up to your apartment. Xavier is still technically your upstairs neighbor but he practically lives at your apartment, he only leaves to change clothes or if he forgets something at his place.

You open the door to your apartment and immediately the aroma of freshly cooked food fills the air. You take off your coat and hang it on the coat rack near the door. It smells amazing and you wonder what Xavier used to mask the smell of whatever he may have burned.

“Oh hi, wait right there let me set the table first”, Xavier moves quickly to set up your plate and scoots the chair out for you to sit down. The lights are slightly dimmed and he has a few candles lit on the table as well.

You take a seat and stare down at a plate of spaghetti with garlic bread on the side. It's topped with parmesan cheese and some diced tomatoes. The garlic bread looks freshly baked and the spread looks delicious on top. It smells delightful and no signs of anything looks burnt. You look over and all the dishes are cleaned and put away and the kitchen is spotless. Xavier grabs you both a drink before he takes off his apron and sits down across from you at the table. He is wearing a white button down shirt with nicely fitted black pants. A couple buttons already undone at the top. His hair is neatly combed but in his normal hairstyle he likes.

“I am so excited for you to try this. I’ve been working on dinner all day”, he said excitedly and you smiled at him.

“This looks wonderful Xavier, well present it to me what did you make”, you say, folding your hands together and looking at him with admiration.

“Well.. I made spaghetti with marinara sauce. I topped it with parmesan cheese and a few diced tomatoes. But the thing that took me the longest to make was the bread. I made it from scratch and made the garlic spread from scratch too.”, he says proud of himself.

You look around the table at the assortment of things and you have to say you are impressed but still skeptical if Xavier actually made this.

“Xavier, it looks really good”, you say to him and he smiles.

“Well, go ahead, try it”, he says, gesturing for you to take a bite. You reluctantly pick up your fork and spiral the noodles around your fork making sure to get some cheese and a tomato in the first bite. You look at Xavier and he is waiting with anticipation.

You take the first bite and start chewing. To your surprise the pasta was well cooked and the sauce was very flavorful. Nothing was overcooked or uncooked at all, it was perfect. The cheese and tomatoes went well with the spaghetti and the flavor tasted as if it came from a nice restaurant.

“Xavier, where did you get this from?”, you ask him and he looks at you with confusion.

“What do you mean?”, he says, his face forming into a pout.

“This is spectacular, you had to get this at a restaurant or something right? Are you pranking me?”, you laugh and he stares at you blankly.

“No seriously, I made it, try the bread too”, he says, picking up the garlic bread and placing it to your lips. You lean in and take a bite of the bread and you roll your eyes back.

The bread is super fresh and still very warm like it just came out of the oven. The spread on top was savory and had a nice garlic flavor that wasn’t overbearing. You moan at the flavor making Xavier blush slightly.

“Okay fess up, where did you get Xavier?”, you say after swallowing the bread.

“I made it I promise you, look I even made a video of me making it because I knew you wouldn’t believe me”, he says getting out of his seat and getting his phone out of his back pocket. He pulls his chair next to me and sits down, holding the phone between us. He pulls up the video and presses play, he is in frame with the kitchen surrounding him.

“Hey everyone, this is I don’t know how many attempts I have made to make dinner for my girlfriend, we have 6 hours before she comes home tonight so let’s get started”, he says through the screen. You giggle and look over at him. He must have started this right after getting off work early.

“Who are you talking to?”, you look over at him, he looks at you meeting your gaze.

“No one, just watch”, he giggles and points to the screen. You turn your attention back to the screen.

“We are going to start with our bread dough and make the dough for our spaghetti noodles. I am following a recipe online so hopefully it will be easier. I could just buy premade noodles at the store but then it wouldn’t be made with love so”, he says looking at the recipe. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is and how he looks trying his best to cook something for you.

The video goes on and he puts the video on 2x speed to show you he went by the recipe, down to the last word. You can see him baking the bread and it comes out perfectly and how he creates the spaghetti noodles and cooks it perfectly as well.

He ends the video with showing his creation to the screen and taste testing it. He nods in approval and cuts off the video. As the video ends you look over at him and he looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Still think it's from a restaurant?”, he gocks at you and you put your hands up in defense.

“Okay I was wrong, I’m sorry. You did so well, I can’t believe you worked so hard for me”, you laugh as you put your hands back down.

“Of course, I know I’m still learning but I wanted to prove to you I could do it, I want to be a reliable boyfriend.”, he smiles averting his gaze.

“You already are but I appreciate you so much, thank you Xavier”, you lean over and kiss his cheek. His eyes widen in surprise and he looks at you. You giggle at his reaction and he smiles, his cheeks turned the same red as the tomatoes.

“Okay well eat up because I made dessert too?”, he laughs and moves his chair back to where he originally was sitting across from you.

“Oh? Did you make a vlog for that one too?”, you giggle as you tease him.

“Shutup”, he laughs alongside you and shakes his head taking a bite of his own creation.

You both enjoy dinner together as you discuss each other's day. He talks about how he had to run to the store multiple times because he kept forgetting ingredients for the dessert he made. You laugh with him but his dessert came out beautifully. He made a layer cake that he had placed in the fridge. It was white cake with raspberry filling and whipped cream between layers. The cake was even more delicious than dinner and Xavier agreed. You still couldn’t believe he put so much time and effort into making you both a nice meal and sweet treat.

After dinner you went to change into your pajamas as he finished cleaning the dishes you both used. You decide to brush your teeth and get ready for the night. You remove today's makeup and apply your skin care before bed. You make your way to your bed and try to catch up on some reading while Xavier is busy in the kitchen.

After about 30 minutes you hear footsteps making their way to the bedroom. You quickly put your bookmark back in your book to save your page and place it under your pillow. You grab your phone to open tiktok and pretend you have been scrolling for a while.

Xavier walks into the room rubbing his eyes and yawning. He is now in his pajama pants and a t-shirt. He must have taken a trip to his apartment to change. He walks over to “his” side of the bed and pulls the covers over him. He plops his head on the pillow and turns to face you, giving you a soft smile.

“Are you sleepy?”, you ask him. He nods slowly and yawns again.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, silly? You worked so hard today”, you say snuggling up to him, he envelops you into his arms and you bury your face into his chest.

“I promised I would watch the next episode of your favorite show with you, plus I am trying to stay awake longer since I sleep way too much. I don’t want to keep wasting the day sleeping when I could be spending more time with you”, he looks down at you, poking your nose and then your cheek.

You poke his chest and reply, “Well only if you want to, but if you get too sleepy I won’t get upset if you decide to go to sleep”. You smile up at him and he chuckles.

“Alright we will see, go ahead and find the episode, I am going to get a bit more comfortable”, he says sitting up. You grab the remote and look up the show you want to watch but your mind gets distracted when you see Xavier take off his shirt and throw it in the nearby hamper. You can’t help but scan his toned chest, arms, abdomen and even his hands. Every inch of him was perfect, every detail of him was something you could only fantasize about. But, he was all yours.

“Have you found it yet?”, he says, shaking his hair back to its neat look and you quickly avert your gaze back to the tv. You swallow the saliva that has formed in your mouth as you click the episode. You lay back down on your side but Xavier quickly pulls you into his arms to cuddle with you. He has one hand propped up to hold his head up to watch the tv while the other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you extremely close to his front.

You can feel his bare chest on your back through your silk pjs and you try to stop your thoughts from running wild. You both enjoy the newest episode and Xavier comments on how Elena needs to quit torturing the Salvatore brothers and just pick a love interest already. You laugh at his comments and you both talk about how you think the next episode will go. As you talk Xavier starts to stroke your hair behind your ear and you close your eyes from the feeling. You are still talking but he grabs your pillow to place your head on it just in case you fall asleep. Put as he reaches for your pillow his hand touches something else.

“Oh, what is this?”, he says, grabbing the book you hid under your pillow earlier. Any sleepiness you may have had is not out the window. You immediately sit up while he is holding it in front of his face.

“That’s nothing”, you say quickly and you go to snatch it, but before you can Xavier moves it too quickly.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, it’s a book you’ve been reading? What’s it about?”, he asks, holding up your latest book that Tara recommended you. It's a book about romance but it's filled with smut. You aren’t ashamed but you don’t know how Xavier will react to you reading explicit things.

“Uh- it’s just a boring romance book”, you reply. He opens it up instead of giving it back, he starts flipping through the pages and smirks.

“You must not think it’s boring, you have certain parts highlighted, like what's this say?”, he laughs and glances at you before turning his attention back to the book. You try to snatch it again but to no avail, he moves it to where you can’t reach it.

“He tied the knot on my wrists tightly to the bed frame. He made me watch and he pulled his big veiny mem-“, Xavier stops reading aloud and falls silent as he reads the rest of the paragraph. Your heart starts to race and your anxiety starts to rise. He closes the book with one hand and slowly looks at you.

“Sweet innocent little Tara recommended this book to you?”, he says with an eyebrow raised but his expression is hard to read.

“Yeah she did. You know she’s not that innocent I can prove it to you”, you grab your phone because if you are going down, Tara is going down with you. He sets the book on the nightstand and watches as you scramble to find the texts of her recommending it.

“See look, she recommended it, see?”, you say anxiously handing him your phone. He giggles at your reaction and reluctantly takes the phone from your hands.

“I guess Tara isn’t as innocent as I thought”, his eyes widened as he read the texts between you both.

“Yeah, see? I told you, she reads stuff like this all the time.”, you say pointing at the texts. He chuckles at how nervous you are and pauses on a certain text then looks up at you, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks and ears.

“I wish Xavier would do these things to me”, he stated, reading the text you sent Tara aloud. Your eyes widen and quickly snatch your phone from his grasp. He doesn’t move from his position or even look at you. You start to feel embarrassed and don’t know what to say.

He sits up, his back against the headboard and he looks at his hands which he is fidgeting with.

“Are you not satisfied with what we do now?”he asks, embarrassed to meet your gaze. You and Xavier have had your fair share of hours spent in the bedroom. It has always been wonderful but you feel Xavier is holding himself back, like he doesn’t want to lose control or something. He always satisfies you but Xavier isn’t too adventurous. You have played around with different positions and things but have never done anything really “out of the norm” or “playful”. You loved Xavier for how he cares for you in the bedroom but sometimes you wish he would just ruin you.

“Gosh no Xavier that's not why I said that. I just, I don’t know, sometimes I feel like you just hold back a bit”, you say playing with the end of your pajama shirt.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you felt this way. I should’ve asked you, I just assumed you liked things the way they were and I didn’t want to hurt you”, he says finally meeting your gaze, his face looks flushed and he looks like a wounded puppy. His face is somewhat in a pout and you can help but place your hands on either side of his face.

“No Xavier, I love what we do now. I am never dissatisfied and I just never brought it up because I didn’t want to embarrass you or myself. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t like when you do things with me because I do. Sometimes I just wish you would be a bit more dominant? I don’t know if that's the right word but you know like "don't hold yourself back”, you confess to him while rubbing both sides of his face with your thumbs.

“So, you would like it if I tied you up?”, he asks you, his eyes turning and deeper blue than normal. Your breath hitches in your throat and you let go of his face but he grabs both of your wrists holding them in place before his face.

“Xavier I-“, you say but can’t respond to his question. Your mind is going blank right now.

“What? You want me to have my way with you? You’re right, I have been holding back because once I don’t, I don’t know if I can stop”, he says breathlessly. You examine his face, its yearning for you. He looks like he has been waiting for you to give him the go ahead for some time.

“What if I said, I didn’t want you to stop?”, you say without thinking. Xavier takes this moment to flip you both over, you back against the mattress and his body now hovering over yours. He takes both of your wrists into one hand, pinning them to your pillow. The other hand beside your face holding himself over you. He stares down at you with lust in his eyes, looking all over your face for any sign of regret or uneasiness but he doesn’t find one.

“Fuck y/n you are making me crazy”, he says butying his hips into yours, feeling his hard member through his pajama pants pressing into you. Your body immediately responds, a wave of heat running down your spine and a pool of wetness forming in your panties.

“Please Xavier, do whatever you want to me”, you moan moving your hips up into his making him gasp. He lowers his head and kisses you deeply a few times before pulling away, placing his forehead against yours.

“I won’t hold back then”, he says just above a whisper and he gets off the bed quickly. You go to protest but you notice he goes to grab the shirt he was wearing earlier from the hamper. Is he rejecting you? Is he putting his clothes back on?

“Put your hands around the railing and get a good grip”, he says, folding his shirt out into a thinner and longer line. OH-

You do as he says holding on the headboard railing getting a firm grip on the rails. He takes his shirt and climbs back over top of you, tying both of your wrists together but not to the railing.

He looks back down at you before he removes his pajama pants, leaving him in his black boxers. You can see the outline of his dick through his boxers and you can’t help but blush. He takes the waistband of your pj bottoms and panties and pulls them off in a quick and rough movement. Your lower body bounces off the bed from the sudden movement. He reaches to unbutton your silk top but to your surprise he just tears it open with his hands, buttons flying everywhere.

“Xavier”, you gasp in surprise but his gaze doesn't falter. He smirks and pulls his boxers down, leaving you both completely bare. He grabs a pillow and places it under your hips. Before you can say anything else he speaks.

“Are you comfortable, it's not too tight right?”, he asks, referring to his shirt wrapped around your wrists. You shake your head no and smile, even in this state he is still concerned about your comfort.

He grabs his dick, precum already dripping from his angry red tip. He starts to stroke himself and he closes his eyes from the feeling. You can only stare at him and you can feel yourself getting increasingly wetter by the second.

He leans down and kisses you while still stroking himself, he moves from your lips to your jaw to your neck. He kisses right at your pulse point causing you to moan. He grazes the spot with his teeth then sucks harshly, leaving his mark. You buck your hips up but he uses his other hands to pin your hips down.

“Naughty girl, I get to have my way with you, remember? So you are gonna behave and be a good girl right? Can you be a good girl for me?”he asks, whispering into your ear and then biting your earlobe. You refrain from bucking your hips again but all you can do is nod.

“I need you to say it baby”, he pulls away from you, his lustful gaze meeting yours.

“Yes Xavi, I’ll be a good girl”, you say while taking in this new side of Xavier. You have never seen him like this but you aren’t complaining, you are excited.

“Good, in that case. Let me worship you for a bit”, he says, making his way down your collarbone to your chest, leaving small kisses as he moves. You love when he does this but normally you place your finger in his hair, but since you are restrained it feels a little weird, making you feel desperate for his touch.

“Fuck your body is so beautiful, the way i’ve wanted to do so many things to you. I just didn't want you to know where my mind was going”, he confesses against your skin causing you to whimper. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking a few times and then flicking the hardened bud with his tongue. He has your hips still pinned down and you can’t touch him, you are left with only the pleasure he is giving you, it feels so good but its also torture.

He places his lower body on top of you, his dick pressed against your pelvis but not exactly where you want it. This helps keep you pinned down while he uses his other hand to knead your other breast. You back arches a bit but not much do to the restraints.

“The way I’ve wanted to cum on every inch of your body. I wanted to make a mess of you, oh how dirty and ruined you would look for me”, he says, his words sending waves of pleasure to your core. He lets go of your nipple with a pop and leans back up onto his knees.

He stops pumping himself and aligns himself along you. Still holding his dick he starts thrusting between your folds, not putting himself at your entrance just yet. His tip hits your clit just right and lubricates himself so he doesn’t hurt you.

“Fuck y/n, you were this wet for me? You wanted me to tie you up this badly?”, he smirks and looks down at your contorted face. You can’t say anything, lost in the feeling of him rubbing against you.

“I’m not wearing a condom tonight, that okay?”, he still asks for your consent. You were on the pill anyway but Xavier always wore one so you wouldn’t feel messy or too sticky after you both were done.

“Yes Xavier, please do what you want”, you beg pathetically, wanting him to ruin you the way he wants to. He moans in response and aligns himself with your entrance. He normally starts off soft and lets you adjust but he slides in without hesitation.

You both moan out at the feeling and he grabs your hips firmly. He starts to pound into you at a fast and hard pace. You grip onto the headboard a bit harder and the bed starts to shake. Skin slapping can be heard around the room as he doesn’t let up for a second.

“Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to treat you like my own personal fuck doll?”, he asks and you can only nod and throw your head back.

“When I ask you a question, you answer it”, he says, grabbing your chin and pulling your face down to meet his gaze on you.

“Yes Xavi, fuck me as hard as you want, ruin me please” , you moan out and he almost growls at your reponse. You are so aroused that the juices between your thighs start to make noise from how good he is fucking you.

“Dirty girl letting me take her raw, ugh, please keep squeezing me like that-yes”, he moans, grabbing your thighs and placing both of your legs over his shoulders.

The new position makes him go even deeper within you and it doesn't take long before he finds the spot he has been searching for.

“Fuck Xavier, please please, right there, oh fuck”,he says gripping to the railing, your knuckles turning white from how hard you are holding it.

“You feel so good baby, I’m not going to last much longer”, he says hitting your g-spot everytime he thrust back in. He can feel you are close too so he holds both your legs up with one arm and sneaks his hand between your thighs down to your erect clit. He spits on his hand before he starts to rapidly rub your clit from side to side, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he does it.

“Oh fuck, Xavier I’m gonna cum, please I-“, you cant finish your sentence before you are already falling apart. You back arches off the bed as you feel wave after wave of pleasure run through your entire body. Xavier doesn’t stop his torment on you, if anything he goes faster.

“Fuck just like that baby, Squeezing me so tight, suck a good girl. Now be a good girl and watch”, he says while taking himself out of your heat and strokes himself quickly.

He lets out loud grunts as he cums all over your pelvis, thighs and lower abdomen. Your legs falling to either side of his body. You lay there and watch as he falls apart and spurts his cum all over you. You have never seen something so erotic in your life but you hope it's not the last. He looks ethereal after he comes down from his high. He takes a second before he opens his eyes and looks at you.

You meet his gaze and he gives you a small smile. The hint of pink from earlier returning to his ears. He goes to untie your wrists and your arms fall to the bed, feeling like jello. He grabs his shirt and wipes his cum off both of you before tossing it back in the hamper. He grabs his pajama pants and puts them back on. He helps you take the remainder of what's left of your top off and finds you a comfortable pair of shorts and a tshirt to sleep in.

He dresses your body for you and gives your cheek a kiss as he lays back on top of you. He wraps your weak arms around his neck and he places more kisses over your face making you giggle.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?”, he asks you, concerned about your experience. You smile and kiss him before answering.

“Xavier you were perfect. If it was very different but I liked it, alot”, you blush and try to hide your face but he nuzzles your face back to meet him.

“I could feel how much you liked it”, he raises both eyebrows, wiggling them and you swat at his chest.

You face burning red at this point.

“You can’t say you didn’t enjoy it too”, you say to him a bit embarrassed.

“Oh I know I did, probably too much, I could do this to you all the time”, he says going to kiss your neck again.

“Okay okay, that tickles”, you laugh pulling him away from you. He giggles at your reaction and pulls you both onto your sides and you close to his chest. His chin nuzzled onto the top of your head while your face is in his neck.

“I wouldn’t want to be tied up again though, I wanted to touch you so bad”, you confess and he laughs, you can feel the vibration of his chuckle against your face.

“Yeah we tell Tara to get you a different book then, maybe we can try some other things too”, he says with a smirk.

“Xavier!”, you explain and pinch his tummy.

“Ouch”, he says, going to tickle you. You both had a tickle battle before you called it a truce. He wraps you in his arms again and you both fall asleep fairly quickly. That night you had a naughty dream where Xavier combined his cooking and bedroom skills. You’ll have to inform him of your dream next time he wants to cook for you.

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a/n: Finally my pookie pie, I have been WAITING to write about him hehehe. I hope everyone but especially my fellow Xavier girlies liked this one. I think so far this one and my Caleb smut have been my favorites. Idk I’m a sucker for both of them tehe. Anyways, I might be writing some fluff and some headcannons before starting smut again. I kinda need a break from all the smut but I am thinking next smut series I do I will somehow involve their evols? Lemme know what you guys think! Thank you for all the love on my first 5 fics of the guys, I appreciate you so much! 🤍

[tbaluver]

Hiii! If it's okay can I request reader pranking LADS men with 'lets breakup' just to see their reaction? ;D

Break Up Prank - The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader genre/tags: angsty w/ comfort-ish at the end a/n: hihi anonnie ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i ened up writing this more angsty mainly bc i just think they would be devasted if you ever wanted to leave them .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. anyways i hope this was alright and that you enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

“This bread should go well with the chocolate milk. Would you like to try?” He asks, offering it to you with a soft smile.

You take a deep breath, keeping your voice as steady as possible. “I think we should break up.” The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it instantly. You watched his eyes widen and his entire body freeze. His hands, still holding the bread midair, slowly lowers.

“what?” He says weakly, trying to process what’s happening. “I..I don't get it.” His smile slowly disappears, a frown replacing it instead. His eyes search yours desperately to find any clue, any hints to find an answer. “Did I do something wrong?” He stammered, his gaze shifting downward as his heart sank all the way down to his body.

You don’t think you can go further with this prank any longer, feeling immediately guilty. “I was just kidding! It’s a prank, Xavier,” You say, trying to lighten the mood but yet the tension in the air still remains.

He doesn’t move, his eyes are uncertain, flicking between you and his plate. “Are you sure?” His voice was quiet, trying to convince himself it was a joke but a part of him still thought otherwise. “If there is something wrong, if there’s anything I can do-” He trails off but before he can say anything more, you rush to his side, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

“I'm so sorry, Xavier. I shouldn't have done that. Tara and I saw it online, and I thought it would be funny. I promise I love you, and I would never want to leave you.” For a while, he doesn’t respond, but slowly, he pulls you closer, burying his face into your neck. His breath is a little shaky, but you feel his shoulders relax just a little.

“I didn't want to lose you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. His hair tickles your neck and you can feel the soft sigh of relief as the tension leaves his body.

“Do you still want to eat your snacks?” you pull away slightly, cupping his face but he shakes his head. His arms tighten around you as he buries himself back into your neck.

“Let's just stay like this for a while,” He murmurs, his voice still slightly shaky. His appetite has vanished entirely, replaced by a need for comfort and that you’re both going to be okay. He should’ve never given bread another chance.

Zayne:

“You shouldn’t sit like that. It can lead to lower back discomfort." Zayne says softly, his hands carefully help you adjust your position as he places a pillow behind your head.

“I don't think this is working out. I think we should end this.” You kept your tone flat, not a hint of a smile or a crack of a laugh to give away the joke. The air around you both goes still, and Zayne stops mid-sentence on his lecture for your posture and health. His throat goes dry while his eyes narrow as if trying to process what you’ve said.

There was an awkward silence between you both until he cleared his throat, adjusting his tie as if it were the only thing he could focus on to keep himself together. “May I ask where this is coming from, my love?” His nickname for you came into a hushed whisper, unsure if he could even use that name at this moment.

“Can we please talk it out? If it’s my nagging that’s become too much, then I’ll stop..my only intention is to look after you.” He’s trying to keep his composure, but you can hear the hurt in his words. “If there's anything else I've done or said, anything I can fix together with you.. I promise-”

You can feel the guilt creeping in each time he speaks. You couldn’t ignore how it affected you and how he was so serious and vulnerable. This prank has gone a little too far, and the laughter you held back was now gone. ”Zayne, wait! I'm so sorry it was just a prank!” You rushed, “I thought it would be funny..I saw this video online..”

Zayne's eyes flutter close as he sighs heavily. “Forgive me..I forgot I'm dating a comedian,” He mutters under his breath, a half smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He shakes his head, a slow exhale escapes past his lips. “I'm glad everything’s alright. May I?” He steps closer to you, his arm outstretched into an embrace. But before you can say anything else, he playfully flicks your forehead.

“Hey!” You protest, but you can feel the soft chuckle rumble in his chest as you pull into his embrace. His breath tickles your skin, and you can’t help but smile, knowing how much loved you are.

“I only ask for you not to prank me like that again. I'm already growing enough white hairs because of you.”

Rafayel:

You instantly regretted ever finishing that sentence.

You watched the way the light in his eyes disappear. His heart seemed to crack, threatening to shatter into a million pieces as the pain washed over his face.

His nebula eyes looked at you in disbelief, unable to comprehend the words that just left your lips were true. The brush in his hand slipped from his fingers as his whole body went limp. His lips trembled, fighting back the flood of emotions threatening to break through.

“I-was it....do you really want that?” His voice shook, the words barely escaping past his lips. His chest tightened, hoping he didn’t hear the answer he dreads. “Was there something I’ve done, cutie?” His gaze drops, his lips pursing as he tries to recall something, anything, that would explain what he did wrong. “I can do better..we can work it out together, yeah? Tell me what’s wrong..” His eyes were pleading, desperate.

You could see the depth of his pain and the way he blamed himself, even though you knew that this was just a prank. It broke your heart, and you couldn’t keep going, the guilt was suffocating enough. “Raf, no! You did nothing wrong. It was just a prank!”

His mouth fell open in shock. “...what?” His voice was weak, a soft gasp escaping him as he dramatically collapsed back onto the couch. “Pranks are supposed to be funny! That wasn’t funny!” He groaned, relief flooding through him. “Dun ever do that to me again, hmph..” He mumbles, his hand still over his face as he tries to collect himself. “Hold me..”

He lets you pull him into your arms, his cheek pressing into your shoulder, the weight of his body finally relaxing as he feels you close. He let out a deep breath as if he were holding it in for too long. “I thought my heart stopped for a moment, cutie..” He murmurs, “Promise me we’ll work through everything?”

Sylus:

“Sweetie-” Sylus’s voice echoes at the front door. You were already in the living room, arms crossed, while you tried to keep your face unreadable.

“We should break up.” You say flatly.

He flinched at the sudden words. The small box he had wanted to surprise you with was clutched tightly as he tried to process your words. His face was in disbelief. His eyes searched for yours, trying to find some sign of a joke. But your expression was cold and unreadable. He set the box down on the table, his movements felt too slow.

“Is there a particular reason you feel this way?” His voice was barely a whisper. You didn’t answer right, the silence in the air was heavy, suffocating even. He took a step forward towards you, hesitant. “Is there any way I can fix this?” The hurt in his eyes was palpable as he slowly reached for you, cupping your face gently. His thumb brushed over your cheek, searching for any sign that could give him an answer.

But you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You felt the weight of his touch, the weight of his words, and the devastation in his eyes. “Sylus..I’m sorry, it was just a prank..”

His breath hitched, his thumb stopping as he froze. His eyes closed as he inhaled sharply as he’d been hit by a wave of relief. “What will I do with you..” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes fluttered open slowly, amusement flicking across his face. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” He asked, raising a brow.

You shook your head quickly, guilt flooding you. “No Sylus. You’re perfect. I’m sorry.. It was funnier in my head. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You had me worried there for a second, sweetie,” Sylus speaks quietly. His fingers graze your hair as he pulls you into an embrace. His lips press softly to the top of your head, and the fear of losing you again still lingers in him.

Caleb:

“Hey pipsqueak, what’re you in the mood for? I’m thinking maybee something savory, or how about something spicy?” He glanced over at you. His warm smile was infectious, as always, but you tried to stay strong. His expression faltered when he saw the look on your face.

“I don’t think this is working out anymore. Let's break up.”

Each word stung, his smile immediately disappearing. He blinked, his mind racing to process what you had just said, the grip on the wooden spoon tightened without him realizing it. Maybe he didn’t hear you right, yeah definitely.

“Sorry..maybe you want something sweet? Or if you’re tired of my cooking, how about takeout?” He tilts his head, refusing to believe it.

“No, Caleb. Let's break up.” The words felt sharper this time, slicing his heart into a million little pieces that no one could ever pick up. You could see it in his eyes, his entire world was crumbling. Every muscle in his body tensed as his breath caught in his throat. His face faltered for a second, his brow furrowing deeply as he set the spoon down with trembling hands.

“Pip-Y/n..where is this coming from?” His voice is quiet now as he takes a step closer. His purple eyes were a mix of confusion and hurt, his hands remained stiff by his sides, almost as if they didn’t know what to do. “Hey..what’s going on? Talk to me, please..” His voice cracked at the end, desperate.

Even though there was only a few inches of distance between you, it felt like the distance was growing further and further. “I can fix it..please..just tell me what to do..anything..” His chest tightened as his mind spun in a thousand different directions. What did he do? What went wrong?

You could see the pain written across his face, a mixture of panic, disbelief, and heartache that made yours ache. Without thinking, you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Caleb’s body was stiff at first as if he didn’t know how to respond, but once he felt your arms tighten, he exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry, Caleb..I shouldn’t have said that. It was just a stupid prank,” you whispered. However, the words didn’t sink in right away. His body remained frozen, still processing everything.

He pulled back slightly, his hands shaking as he cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek like he was trying to make sure you were real. “Really? You’re not leaving?”

You nodded, “I’m not. I love you, and I won’t ever leave you.”

He exhaled sharply, his body finally relaxing against you as the tension in his body began to unwind. “You almost got me there, pipsqueak...” He let out a weak laugh, his voice still shaky as he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “Maybe you should stick to cilantro-flavored toothpaste pranks next time..”

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you to my beta readers for helping me with this ! @ilovemitsuya and @pomegranatepip MWAH ₊˚⊹ᰔ

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist , Pg.2

[aikkyuu]

IF THIS IS TRUE I WILL GO FERAL

GIVE ME PRINCE XAVIER NeoooWWWW

[eliasmelody]

Love Beneath the Depths

(part 1)

Xavier x f!reader

Sequel to Love Beyond the Surface (part 1)

Words: 3220 Warning: hint of suicide, slow burn, reader is not MC, parallel universe(isekai), grammar & spelling

INTRO: Your fingers lingered on the book as you handed it, the soft glance you gave without meaning to. Just this time, can he borrow your heart… for a little while?

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

You mutter a quiet curse under your breath as you bend down to pick up the scattered books, carefully arranging them back onto the shelf.

The familiar scent of aged paper and ink surrounds you, but it does little to calm the frustration bubbling inside.

Why is she here?

Your fingers pause for a brief moment as your gaze shifts toward the girl standing just a few feet away. Or should you call her the MC? The main character of this whole ordeal. She shouldn’t be here, at least, not in the library, not during your shift.

Of all the times she could have chosen to appear, why now?

You shrink back, pressing yourself against the bookshelf. Maybe if you stay perfectly still, she won’t notice you. You are just a background character, a random human in the grand narrative of her life. Nothing more, nothing less.

I am an NPC. I am just an NPC. I am not here.

You repeat the mantra in your head like a desperate prayer, silently urging the universe to redirect her attention elsewhere.

Time stretches unbearably, turning seconds into minutes, maybe even hours in your mind. And then, finally, she starts walking away.

You exhale sharply, relief washing over you like a cool breeze. Please leave. Please leave.

But then recognition flickers across her face. Her lips part, and then…

"Xavier?"

You groan, already feeling a headache forming. Without thinking, you grab the nearest book and lightly bump your forehead against it, as if that could somehow knock this entire situation out of existence.

"Oh, it's you."

Xavier’s voice is casual, but there’s a slight hesitation, a pause just long enough to make your stomach twist. You watch as his gaze flickers around the library, scanning the shelves, the tables, the spaces between them. Searching.

For what?

For who?

Panic grips you before logic can. Without thinking, you drop into a crouch and scramble beneath the nearest table, pressing yourself into the shadows like your life depends on it.

From your hiding spot under the table, you can hear her voice light up with excitement the moment she sees him. She starts talking fast, animated, rambling about something you can’t quite make out.

Xavier, on the other hand, replies in short, clipped responses. His voice is steady, neutral, maybe even a little disinterested.

That’s… weird.

This is the moment where he’s supposed to be captivated by her every word, yet, right now, he looks almost… distracted. And then, just for a second, his eyes flicker away from her to the side, toward the table.

Your stomach drops.

He couldn’t be looking for you… right? There’s no reason, no logical reason.

You watch as his gaze lingers for a moment too long, scanning the shelves, the tables, your hiding spot. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you press yourself tighter against the wooden legs of the table.

Meanwhile, she’s still talking, completely oblivious. You can’t even focus on her words anymore. He shifts. Take a step. But just as he moves, she tugs at his sleeve, dragging his attention back to her.

"Hey, are you even listening?" The girl huffs.

Xavier blinks, as if snapped out of a daze. "Yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?"

You hold your breath, waiting, hoping.

She sighs. "We should get going." Her voice is light and casual.

Footsteps shuffle against the library floor, and for a moment, you think it's over. They're leaving. You're safe… for now.

────── ♡ ──────

The rhythmic tapping of keys and the quiet hum of the library fill the air as you scan books at the checkout desk, barely looking up as the next person steps forward.

"Just put your books here." You say, reaching for the scanner.

A familiar voice responds, softer than usual. "Okay…"

Your fingers pause for the briefest moment before you force yourself to look up.

Shjt–

Stay calm. Stay calm. He won’t recognize me… right? Please don’t recognize me.

Xavier stands before you, shifting his weight slightly, a few books stacked in his arms. But that’s not what catches your attention. It’s the faint bruise along his cheekbone. It’s subtle, but up close, the lighting highlights the uneven coloration, just enough to make it noticeable.

You narrow your eyes slightly. "…What happens to your face–" Your hands fly up, covering your mouth. Idiot. You were supposed to avoid drawing attention.

He blinks, as if caught off guard by your question. Then he lifts a hand, fingers brushing absently against the bruise before dropping them. "This? It’s nothing."

You don’t respond right away. Just stare at him.

Xavier exhales, shifting the books in his arms. "Just ran into some trouble, that’s all." His voice is casual, too dismissive.

You don’t take the bait. Instead, you scan the book in his hand and slide it back toward him. "Did you at least put something on it?"

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then a low chuckle. Not his usual sharp, teasing kind. It’s softer, almost amused. "Are you worried about me?"

You roll your eyes and push the next book through the scanner. "Forget I asked."

"Too late." His voice is quieter now, a little too pleased.

You huff, choosing to ignore him as you finish scanning his books.

────── ♡ ──────

The library is quiet, the steady rhythm of shelving books filling the air. You barely glance up until you catch movement from the corner of your eye.

Xavier stands in front of a tall bookshelf, reaching for a book just out of grasp. His fingers brush the spine, but he hesitates, his arm stiff, a faint wince crossing his face before he tries again.

You sigh and step over. "Here." Easily, you pull the book down and hand it to him.

Xavier blinks, as if surprised you even noticed, then takes it. "…Thanks."

You watch him for a second. "You shouldn’t be reaching like that if you’re hurt."

Silence…

"… You work here often?" He asks, shifting slightly, like he’s trying to steer the conversation into something more natural.

"Just part-time." You reply carefully.

"Oh." His grip tightens a fraction more, then loosens again, as if he’s catching himself. "So you’re not always here."

"That’s kind of how part-time works." You say dryly, hoping to cut this conversation short.

But instead of taking the hint, he exhales softly, almost like that wasn’t the answer he wanted. "Right."

For a moment, neither of you speak. You should walk away. You should.

"You turned me down pretty fast last time."

Your stomach twists slightly.

"Because you had the wrong person."

"I know." His voice is calm, even. "I just thought..." He stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Never mind."

A strange tightness coils in your chest. You don’t know why, but the way he says that, like something fragile, makes you uneasy.

────── ♡ ──────

You can still remember, the first time you two met, Xavier behaved more… different.

He looked completely shocked, standing in the middle of the street like he had just seen a ghost. You hadn’t even realized he was nearby at first. If you had, you would have taken a different path, avoiding him entirely.

Back then, you had been terrified. Not just because he had seen you, but because you didn’t know what he knew. Did he know you weren’t supposed to be here? That you weren’t from this world?

The thought alone had sent a chill down your spine. You had feared that he might follow you, that he would demand answers… answers you didn’t have.

You had no idea how he would react.

You steal a glance at him from across the library, pretending to be busy stacking books.

He’s here. Again.

Ever since that encounter, Xavier has started coming around more often. Too often. You don’t know if it’s a coincidence or if he’s deliberately showing up, but either way, it’s unfortunate for you.

Because now, you have a new problem.

There is no way you can keep working here, not when the risk of him figuring out your secret keeps growing by the day. If he hasn’t already started piecing things together, it’s only a matter of time.

Which means you need a new job.

And more importantly, you need to cut him off.

You’ve tried to brush it off, to tell yourself you’re just being paranoid, but the facts won’t let you.. Based on everything you’ve learned from the game… Xavier doesn’t react well to things he can’t explain. And you’re that something.

All you want is to go unnoticed, to stay out of his sight. Even though you love him, his story, his character, the way he was written to be compelling and complex. As a character, he was fascinating. But in reality? In your reality? He was dangerous.

Who knows?

Maybe one day, instead of just appearing in the library, he’ll show up somewhere worse. Like your apartment. Probably with a sword in his hand and your head on the ground.

And that? That’s not a risk you’re willing to take.

Your fingers hover over the small stone hidden in your pocket, its smooth surface unnervingly cool against your skin. You’ve only ever known of the protocol in standard colors, you don't know why this one turn black.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you think back to that day. It happened in your first week here, when you're still not familiar with the traffic.

The truck had been coming straight for you, too fast, too close. You remember the blinding headlights, the deafening screech of tires, the sheer terror of knowing you couldn’t move in time.

And then—nothing.

The truck had passed right through you, like you weren’t even there. Like you were just a ghost.

You never figured out what happened that day or what that stone did. And you never wanted to find out.

Because if you did… It would mean admitting that something was deeply wrong with your presence here.

You sigh, pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind. Dwelling on them won’t help.

────── ♡ ──────

"Okay… and you’re good to go." You slide the book across the counter, offering a polite nod.

But the man on the other side doesn’t move. He just… stares at you.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the scanner. "… You need something else sir?"

He keeps staring. A slow, creeping smirk tugs at his lips.

Is he… flirting?

You honestly can’t tell. If he is, it’s bad. Like, uncomfortably bad. The kind of bad that makes you want to disappear under the desk and pretend this interaction never happened.

Your grip tightens on the scanner as you force a strained smile. "…Do you need anything else?"

The man tilts his head slightly, eyes still locked onto you. "Nah," he drawls, amusement lacing his tone. "Just… taking my time."

Oh, great. I love when customers do that.

You resist the urge to groan. "Well then can you please take your time somewhere else." You say, keeping your voice perfectly polite.

The man doesn’t leave. Of course he doesn’t.

Instead, he just stands there, staring at you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out. His smirk lingers, his posture relaxed but unnervingly present.

You grip the edge of the counter, debating whether to just pretend he doesn’t exist.

A shadow falls over your desk.

"Is there a problem here?"

Xavier’s voice is casual, but there’s an underlying edge to it, subtle, sharp. You blink, barely processing his sudden appearance. When did he even get here?

The man glances at him, and for the first time, his smirk falters just a little. "Nah, no problem." He says, though his tone isn’t as confident as before.

Xavier doesn’t respond right away. He just stares, his expression unreadable, his presence somehow making the air feel heavier.

The man shifts uncomfortably. Then, finally, finally, he mutters something under his breath, turns on his heel, and walks away.

You let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing slightly. You narrow your eyes at him next. Suspicious.

"You’re here a lot." You point out. "Don’t you have something better to do?"

He tilts his head slightly, considering. "Not really."

Great.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Look, thanks for the whole 'intimidating presence thing', but I’m fine. You don’t have to keep showing up here like some…" You wave a hand vaguely. " …library cryptid."

Xavier raises an eyebrow. "Library cryptid?"

"You know what I mean." You huff. "If you’re just here to loiter, I’m going to have to ask you to check out a book or leave."

For a moment, he just watches you, unreadable as ever. Then, he reaches for a book from a nearby shelf.

You blink as he sets it on the counter.

"…?"

"You said I had to check something out," He says smoothly. "I’m just following the rules."

You glance at the book’s cover. The Beginner’s Guide to Cooking.

Slowly, you lift your gaze back to him, deadpan. "Seriously?"

Xavier meets your eyes, completely unfazed. "What? I’m expanding my interests."

You sigh and scan the book, going through the motions. "Remember to return it on time," you say, sliding it across the counter.

Xavier reaches for it, but then he pauses.

Your brows furrow slightly, and you glance up at him, only to catch his gaze locked onto your wrist.

More specifically… the faint, almost unreal lines tracing along your skin.

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

You turn pale, heart lurching as you realize what he’s seeing. In your rush today, had you forgotten to cover it?

Quickly, you set the book down on the table beside him and pull your hand back, tucking it out of sight. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you force your voice to stay steady. "Something wrong?"

Xavier’s expression flickers, too fast to read. Then, he looks up, meeting your eyes.

"…No." He says smoothly, picking up the book. "Nothing at all."

You watch as he picks up the book, his movements smooth, controlled, too controlled. Then, he simply says. "See you around." and walks away. ────── ♡ ────── The next morning, you call in sick.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

A full week passes, and you still haven’t set foot in the library. You know you’re being paranoid. Xavier hasn’t done anything, hasn’t confronted you.

But the memory of his eyes lingering on your wrist, that brief pause, it’s enough to keep you away.

So you stay holed up in your apartment, staring at the black protocol on your desk, fingers hovering over it but never quite touching. You should be figuring out a new job, making a plan, doing something.

Lincoln City isn’t exactly kind to people without proper documentation.

And by people, you mean you.

Most jobs require some kind of passport, ID, or legal paperwork, things you, an entity from another world, very much do not have.

Yay…

So, here you are, scanning every job advertisement you can find. Which, as it turns out, isn’t much.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. Looks like it’s going to be another long week of avoiding certain people and figuring out how to survive in a world that doesn’t think you exist.

────── ♡ ────── "He's looking for you."

You blink, frowning at your colleague. "What?"

The words catch you off guard. You were just here to formally quit your library job… politely, of course. Luckily, the woman in charge is reasonable, not the type to make a fuss.

Your supervisor barely glances up from her computer, fingers still tapping at the keyboard. "That guy. Xavier, was it?" She tilts her head slightly. "He’s been asking about you. Came by a few times this week."

Your stomach twists.

You keep your expression neutral, though your mind is already racing. Why? What does he want?

"…What did you tell him?" you ask carefully.

She shrugs. "Just that you’ve been out sick. He didn’t ask much else, but he didn’t look convinced either." She finally looks up, raising an eyebrow. "You in some kind of trouble?"

You force a laugh. "No, nothing like that."

She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push. "Well, if you're here to quit, just sign this, and you’re good to go."

You nod, taking the paper with slightly unsteady hands.

Xavier is looking for you.

"The library gets more crowded when he's here." Your supervisor adds idly, tapping at her keyboard. "Those loud girls who can't keep their gossip to themselves… it's unbearable."

Of course, he is handsome, after all. You suppose it was only a matter of time before people started hovering around him like moths to a flame.

Not my problem anymore.

────── ♡ ────── Xavier leans back in his chair, staring blankly at the paperwork spread across his desk. It’s not that he can’t focus, he just doesn’t see the point. The words blur together, the numbers meaningless.

"Didn’t you mess up your shoulder last week?""

The voice pulls him out of his thoughts. His colleague stands in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow raised.

Xavier barely reacts. He shifts slightly, rolling his shoulder with ease. Right. That.

"Heals fast." He mutters, flipping a page in the report.

"Uh-huh." There’s skepticism in the tone. "Looked pretty bad to me. Thought you were gonna need a sling."

Xavier exhales, resisting the urge to rub his temple. He should’ve expected this. He had leaned into the whole thing just enough, winced at the right moments, let his grip falter slightly, made sure she noticed. And she did. She had looked at him. Talked to him.

But now she is gone. And pretending didn’t matter anymore.

"You think too much." Xavier says simply, turning his attention back to the paperwork.

A scoff. "Sure. And you don’t think enough." His colleague lingers for a second before stepping away.

His jaw tightens. His gaze flicks toward the stack of books on the edge of his desk, the ones he never actually needed, just an excuse to be there. Some had been recommended by her, offhand suggestions he pretended not to care about at the time.

He hopes she’s okay.

That mark on her wrist… He hadn’t meant to notice it. It was only a fleeting glimpse when she pulled her hand away, but the image stuck with him. The raw redness of irritated skin, the faint lines of something beneath it. Some new. Some old.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him. It lingers, festering, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Despite that, she still noticed him. Every time.

Even when she tried to keep her distance, her eyes would flicker toward him whenever he had a new injury, small glances, subtle frowns. She never asked, but he saw the way her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach out but held herself back.

With a sigh, he reaches for those book, flipping it open absentmindedly. A small slip of paper flutters out, landing on his desk.

His eyes narrow.

It’s a pharmacy receipt, nothing serious, just something over-the-counter, painkillers maybe, with the pharmacy’s name is printed at the top..

She must have bought it before vanishing. Maybe she even went there often.

His grip tightens around the paper.

An accident. A careless mistake.

But now, it’s his lead.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Art work and char: belong to Infold Game ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

[junostellaris]

"He is just pixels, he is not real."

Every time someone says 'they're just pixel men,' I realize how little compassion they actually have. For some women, those 'pixel men' are the only safe space they’ve got left because real people have hurt them in ways you can't imagine.

Real people shattered their trust, broke their hearts, and made them feel like they’re never enough. But those pixel men? They don’t gaslight. They don’t manipulate. They don’t leave when things get hard. They show love, patience, and loyalty even if they're made of codes.

And sometimes, when reality has done nothing but destroy you, those fictional men are the reason you keep going. So no, they’re NOT 'just pixels.' They’re comfort. They’re what gets some of us through another day.

If you are seeing women be emotional, sensitive, or finding solace in something you don’t understand and it makes you uncomfortable, you can get out.

Nobody asked you to stay.

Let women love what helps them survive. ✨

[coffeekittycatt]

i worship him

[lycheejelli]

I just saw that the Xavier x reader tag on AO3 has less than 2k works while both Sylus and Caleb have over 2k.

Sylus actually having 3k.

This nearly made me cry ngl.

Like even here on tumblr a good chunk of Xavier x reader content is either HCs with all the other LIs or posts that have nothing to do with him but they’re just tagged to get farther reach.

(ISTG if I see another Caleb centered post tagged #xavier I’m going to flip tf out)

And don’t even get me started on the ppl who call Xavier boring………….

I’ve been playing nearly since launch and sometimes it feels like the fandom space is slowly forgetting the og boys. Idk if anyone else feels this way but it makes me sad.

It’s hard out here as a Xavier main. I will go to war for this man yall don’t understand.

[sleepylittlestarwrites]

YESSSS 🔥 I needed this today

Sweet Stardust

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: You'd never expect to be set up on a blind date with Xavier - the one man you’ve been hopelessly crushing on for months.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, smut, use of 'sweetheart' 'princess' 'honey', reader has hair (at least shoulder length, didn't specify texture), fingering, creampie ofc

♡︎ word count: 6.1k

♡︎ a/n: written for @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen ♡ this fic is part of the Blind Date Matchmaking event by @unintentionalseductress

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @/anitalenia

You take a slow sip of your iced tea, the coolness doing nothing to soothe the warmth creeping up your neck.

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Your fingers find the edge of your star-shaped earring, tracing the smooth metal absentmindedly as you glance around. The restaurant is elegant but cozy, the kind of place that requires a reservation but doesn’t suffocate you with formality. Secluded tables nestle in private corners, the polished dark wood of the bar offering a sense of quiet luxury. It’s nice— a perfect spot for a first date.

The thought only makes your stomach twist tighter.

You arrived earlier than planned, too anxious to sit alone in your apartment with nothing but your thoughts. Now, perched on a barstool, you’re starting to question every decision that led you to this moment.

The worst part? You don’t even know what your date looks like.

Tara assured you she’d pick someone good. And you trust her—she’s not just a colleague but a close friend, someone who knows you well enough to understand your type, your standards, your... predicament. That is, your utterly hopeless crush on Xavier.

Your gaze drops to your lap at the thought of him, an old ache stirring in your chest. You’ve spent months pining for him—your colleague, your neighbor, the man who has occupied far too much space in your head. But nothing has ever come of it. No flirty advances, no subtle signs that he might see you as anything more than a friend and coworker. And you’ve grown tired of waiting.

So, you let Tara set you up. Maybe this mystery man will be exactly what you need—a good distraction, someone to help you move on. If that’s even possible.

Still, one small consolation eases your nerves - you know you look good. The sweater dress you chose hugs your curves just right, soft and warm, the cleavage dipping just low enough to be tempting. Your heeled boots elevate your outfit, and, miraculously, your hair cooperated today, falling just the way you like it.

Tara instructed you to wear a recognition piece—something star-shaped, she had said. You thought it was too subtle, but you were relieved you had control over your outfit. Now, though, as you anxiously toy with your earring, you wonder if your date will even notice it.

What if he saw you already and decided to leave?

Your grip tightens slightly around your drink, your pulse stuttering at the humiliating thought. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe—

A small speck of light floats in front of you, pulling you from your anxious thoughts. You can’t help but associate them with him, as they always appear -

“Hey.”

The soft, familiar voice shifts your attention.

You turn, blinking in surprise, and your heart nearly stumbles out of your chest.

Xavier is sitting next to you.

When did he even get here?

He’s propped against the bar, one elbow resting on the polished wood, his cheek lightly pressed against his hand. The dim glow of the restaurant catches in his deep blue eyes, glinting with something unreadable as he watches you.

Your breath falters for just a second, heat creeping up your neck. “Hi.” you manage, offering a sheepish smile, your fingers still toying with your earring.

His gaze flickers down, catching on the star-shaped piece before shifting back to your face. “Are you waiting for someone?”

You straighten instinctively, forcing yourself to stop fidgeting. “I am,” you say, glancing toward the entrance. “But I’m not sure what he looks like.”

His brows lift slightly. “A blind date?”

You let out a small, nervous chuckle. “Yeah.”

You glance at your phone. You exhale sharply, shifting in your seat. “But I’m starting to think he won’t show up.”

Xavier hums, the sound low and thoughtful. “Maybe he’s just running late.”

You look back at him then, finally taking in the details of his outfit—he’s wearing a crisp white shirt, paired with light-colored slacks that somehow make him look even taller, more put-together, but still effortlessly him.

Your stomach twists with an uneasy realization —what if he’s waiting for someone? Swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat, you force yourself to ask, keeping your voice as casual as possible. “Are you waiting for someone?”

His eyes linger on yours for a second too long. Then, he shakes his head. “Not really.”

You barely have time to process that answer before he turns his attention toward the softly lit dining area. Without hesitation, he rises from his seat, and then—he extends his hand toward you.

“Our table is ready.” he murmurs, his voice smooth, a soft smile curving at the edges of his lips.

Your breath catches.

Oh -

He’s your date.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

After settling into a table tucked in a cozy corner, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, you and Xavier placed your orders—drinks and appetizers to start. But your mind was spinning too fast, so you excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to breathe.

Inside, you grip the edge of the sink, inhaling slowly as you pull out your phone.

"Tara, did you bribe Xavier into being my date?" Your heart hammers in your chest as you type the next part. "Please tell me you didn't tell him I have a crush on him!"

Within seconds, a text pops up:

"Of course not!"

You wait, staring at the screen. Then a voice note appears.

You tap play, Tara’s familiar voice filling the quiet space of the restroom.

"He immediately refused when I asked him if he wanted to be set up on a blind date." You can hear her dramatic pout, but then it shifts—lighter, giddy. "But when I told him you’d be his date, he accepted. Anyway, have fun!"

You blink.

Your reflection in the mirror catches the exact moment your anxious frown softens into something else entirely—a shy, almost disbelieving smile creeping across your lips.

He accepted because it was you.

A warm, tingling sensation spreads down to your fingertips. You clutch your phone, staring at yourself, trying to tamp down the hopeful little spark.

Does this mean he likes me?

You bite your lip, willing yourself to stay grounded, to not jump to conclusions. It just means he didn’t hate the idea. That’s all. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Still, as you slip your phone back into your purse and wash your hands, your movements feel lighter, less burdened by nerves. By the time you push open the bathroom door and step back into the dinning area, that giddy warmth is still lingering in your chest.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You step into your apartment, and turn to lock the door after Xavier enters. It feels surreal. Xavier is standing in your entryway. In your apartment. Slipping off his shoes, asking where the guest slippers are. He shrugs off his coat, and before you can even think to reach for it, he’s holding out his hands—first to take the bouquet of flowers he bought for you on the walk back, then to grab your coat.

The bouquet is filled with your favorites. Did he ask Tara? Did he just… know?

You clear your throat, mumbling a quiet thanks, and step into the kitchen to grab a vase. The sound of running water fills the space as your mind is stuck on the simple, surreal fact that he’s here. Xavier is standing in your kitchen, looking around with quiet interest, his gaze flickering over little details—your recipe books stacked on one counter, the aprons hanging next to the fridge, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air.

“Cozy.” he comments, his voice warm.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

You cover your lips as a chuckle escapes you, shaking your head. “I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at Xavier with an apologetic smile, “I just always assumed you were bad at cooking since there’s burning smoke coming from your apartment almost every week.”

Xavier exhales a quiet laugh. “It’s not that I’m bad,” he muses, “I just have a bad habit of dozing off while waiting for something to cook.”

The low rasp in his voice makes your stomach flutter. You’re suddenly very aware of how close he is, how his knee has brushed against yours too many times to be an accident.

You clear your throat, scrambling for something to keep the conversation flowing. “I have dough at the apartment.” The words slip out. “I’m not sure what to make with it yet. Do you have any ideas?”

Xavier leans in slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he contemplates, but his eyes never leave yours.

“I bought strawberry jam today,” he murmurs. “It would be perfect with homemade bread.” His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest second before it settles again on yours. “I could help you with it—if that’s okay with you?”

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

Your cheeks burn at the memory.

Just a few hours ago, you thought Xavier wasn’t interested in you at all. That your feelings were nothing more than a hopeless crush. But now—he’s here. He’s helping you find the perfect spot to set the vase, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

And you know - he does like you.

You saw it in the way he looked at you at the restaurant, in the way his usually distant, unreadable gaze softened, locked onto you. It wasn’t the casual attention he gave to others, the absentminded focus of a man who was simply being polite. No—this was different. His eyes had lingered, had traced the curve of your lips between words, flickering down for just a second too long before finding yours again.

And you felt it, too. In the way his knee brushed against yours beneath the table. In the way his fingers found yours by the end of the night,the touch tender and grounding.

And now, here you are—just the two of you in your cozy kitchen, setting everything up to prepare homemade bread.

You move around the space, trying to keep your hands busy, trying not to focus too much on the man leaning against the counter. You reach for the aprons hanging by the hook, and a playful smile tugs at your lips as you hand Xavier the one with the bunny print. He raises an eyebrow at the design before letting out a low chuckle, shaking his head in amusement but accepting it anyway.

"You picked this on purpose, didn’t you?"

"You’ll look cute in it," you tease, already tying your own cherry-print apron around your waist.

But before you can secure the knot, his fingers brush over yours. "Let me."

His breath against the shell of your ear makes goosebumps bloom along the side of your neck. He steps in behind you, his fingers tying the knot — but he doesn’t move away immediately. For a lingering moment, his hands rest on your hips, fingers splayed lightly over the fabric of your dress, and your breath catches. It’s so subtle, so fleeting, but the touch lingers even as he steps back and moves to stand beside you.

You exhale slowly, turning your attention back to the dough in the bowl.

Xavier rolls up his sleeves, the fabric sliding up his forearms, revealing the sculpted muscle, the veins subtly lining his skin. His hands flex as he reaches for the dough, fingers sinking into the soft mixture.

"I can handle the kneading," he offers, his eyes flicking to you. "Just instruct me."

You nod, too distracted to say anything.

Xavier’s hands press into the dough with steady, practiced motions, fingers flexing as he pushes forward, the soft mixture stretching and folding beneath his palms. You watch, transfixed, as the muscles in his forearms shift with each movement, flexing beneath his skin. The dough yields to his touch, stretching between his fingers before he folds it over itself again, his knuckles pressing in, wrists rolling as he coaxes the mixture into the perfect consistency. It shouldn’t be mesmerizing. It shouldn’t be distracting. But it is.

You swallow, completely absorbed in the way his hands work—the slow push, the press, the stretch, the way his fingers curl just slightly as he pulls the dough back. Heat pools in your stomach, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

And then he stops.

Your gaze snaps up from his hands to find his face already turned toward you, amusement flickering in his deep blue eyes.

"Can you sprinkle more flour? Or are you just gonna keep staring?"

Your stomach flips.

Oops.

Heat spreads over your cheeks as you realize he caught you shamelessly ogling his arms like they were the most fascinating thing in the world. You scramble to gather yourself, clearing your throat as you quickly grab the flour.

"I was just making sure you were doing it right." you lie, voice slightly higher than normal as you sprinkle a light dusting over the dough.

Xavier hums, clearly unconvinced, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips as he kneads again, the fresh coating of flour making his hands glide easier. But just as you think you’ve escaped the moment, he shifts—his hands no longer sticky with dough, moving faster than you can react.

A soft swipe of flour brushes against your cheek.

You blink, stunned. Xavier pulls his hand back, his smirk widening, too pleased with himself.

"Focus." he teases, the mirth in his eyes makes your stomach flip all over again.

Your jaw drops in feigned offense, so you grab a pinch of flour, and tap the tip of his nose. The faint layer of white settles on the tip of his nose, an almost comical touch against his usually composed expression. His gaze locks onto yours, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then—

A low chuckle spills into a soft, genuine laugh. Your heart stumbles over itself at the sight of him like this— warm and sweet, no longer distant. The sound of it makes you grin wider, but you don’t miss the way his eyes gleam with mischief. The playful glint is all the warning you get before his hand moves as he smears another streak of flour along your cheek.

“You should really focus.” he teases, voice rich with amusement, tilting his head as if inspecting his work.

You gasp, feigning an appalled expression. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

But you don’t get a chance to launch another attack, because he moves swiftly, catching your wrist in his hand. The contact sends a small jolt through you; it’s soft but firm enough that you can feel the heat of his palm against your skin, holding you in place. You expect him to smirk, to tease. But instead, his expression softens, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes as he lifts your hand. And then—he presses a kiss to your knuckles. His lips linger for only a second, the warmth of them seeping into your skin, before he pulls away.

Your pulse is fluttering, your cheeks heating, and silence settles between you, stretching for just a beat too long.

You clear your throat, glancing toward the dough still resting on the counter, and force your voice to sound as steady as possible.

“So, what do you like to cook the most?”

Xavier hums in thought. “I like trying new things,” he muses, rolling his shoulders slightly, easing some of the tension in his muscles. “It doesn’t always turn out great, but I like the challenge.”

You tilt your head, intrigued, and then smirk. “So, you like torturing yourself with hard recipes?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Something like that.” His voice is a little quieter as he continues. “You make it look easy. Thought I’d try my hand at a few things.”

You pause for a moment, wondering if you heard him correctly. “Wait - have you been trying to remake my recipes?”

His fingers falter for just a second before he smooths his expression into something neutral. “Maybe.”

A slow grin spreads across your face. “Xavier.”

He exhales, shaking his head like you’ve caught him in something ridiculous, but the corners of his lips twitch. “You make good food,” he mutters. “I wanted to see if I could make it too.”

You fight the urge to squish his cheeks that have flushed a tiny bit at the revelation. He actually remembers the things you’ve brought him, the little baked goods and dishes you’d made. And not only does he remember—he tries to recreate them.

His gaze flickers to you. “Maybe you should teach me.”

It’s a casual request, but you hear what he isn’t saying. He wants to see you more, and it sends another rush of giddy warmth through you.

“Okay,” you say, pretending like your heart isn’t doing flips. “What do you want to learn?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Egg tarts.”

The answer is so unexpected that you blink, then laugh. “Really? Out of everything?”

He nods. “They’re delicious.”

Finally, the bread dough is prepped, shaped, and ready for the oven. You slide the tray inside, and after cleaning up the counter and your hands, you remove the aprons and put them back on the hook.

As you turn to face Xavier again, you catch him watching you, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, leaning against the counter.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off the way his gaze makes your stomach tighten. Then, with a teasing lilt to your voice, you ask, “Should I go get you a blanket? Since you might doze off.”

His brows lift slightly, and then he huffs a short laugh.

But then, his voice drops, smooth as silk. “I think we can find a better way to pass the time.”

A soft laugh spills from your lips at first, but as soon as you catch the look in his eyes, the warmth in your chest falters, the laughter dying on your tongue.

The teasing spark in his eyes is nowhere to be found. Instead, a soft blush dusts his cheekbones, creeping up to the tips of his ears. Then—he moves.

One step, then another, the space between you disappearing, inch by inch. The edge of the counter presses into the small of your back as he approaches, your body instinctively leaning away. His hands rest on either side of you, palms pressing flat against the cool surface of the counter.

His breath is soft, ghosting over your lips. The sheer weight of his attention wraps around you like a second heartbeat, syncing with your own, pulsing through your veins. Your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to reach for something—him, the counter, anything to steady yourself.

The rest of the world fades into nothing, and all that exists is him.

His lashes lower just slightly, his lips parting as he leans in, his gaze holding yours the entire time. He’s waiting, offering you one last chance to pull away, to stop this before the moment tips over into something neither of you can take back.

Then, barely above a whisper - “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t say a word.

Instead, you tilt your chin up, closing what little distance remains between you, and press your lips to his. Xavier exhales softly against your lips, the sound breaking somewhere between relief and disbelief before he finally moves.

His mouth presses more firmly against yours, molding to the shape of you, learning the way you taste, memorizing the way you feel beneath him. His fingers twitch against the counter, like he’s restraining himself from reaching for you, from pulling you against him, from letting his hands wander to the places he’s only ever dreamed of touching. But he lingers, soaking in every moment, every detail, every sigh and shiver you give him. You melt into him, your fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

Xavier pulls away for a moment, his breath warm against your lips. "Can I touch your hair?"

It’s such a simple question, yet it sends comforting warmth through you, and it makes you fall for him even more. You nod, your heart hammering in your chest as you tilt your head slightly in invitation. You press your lips to his again, needing to feel that warmth, needing to drown in the way he kisses you. The moment his hand settles on your hair, a slow shiver rolls down your spine. His touch is reverent, the slightest tug at the roots sending small tingles all the way down your neck. You sigh into his mouth, the sound soft and almost dazed, relishing in the way he handles you, like he wants to learn the texture of every strand under his fingers.

And then he steps closer, pressing his body fully against yours, erasing the last inch of space between you. His firm muscles shift slightly against you, the warmth of him seeping through his clothes, through yours, until you feel surrounded, consumed. And lower, against your hip, there’s something else—something hard and pressing insistently, showing just how much he wants you.

Your breath catches, your fingers faltering where they rest against his jaw.

Just a small movement—that’s all it takes, the softest drag of your hip against the unmistakable hardness straining against his pants, to draw out a reaction from him.

Xavier’s body tenses, his breath catching in his throat. His fingers twitch against your hair, tightening slightly before loosening, as if he’s reminding himself to be gentle. His jaw clenches, his eyes squeezing shut for the briefest second before they open again, darker now, heavier.

He whispers your name. "If you keep doing that—"

But you don’t move away. Instead, you lift your gaze to his. "Do you want to stop?" you whisper.

The moment hangs between you, before he exhales.

"No," he murmurs, "But if we do this, I need you to be sure."

And you are sure. Your fingers tighten around his wrist, feeling the pulse thrumming just beneath your fingertips. You guide his hand from your hair down to your waist. "I want this." you whisper, your heart pounding so violently you wonder if he can hear it. "I want you."

The tension in his body dissolves, his grip tightening at your waist, holding you there, against him. His breath stutters for just a moment, his nose brushing against yours, and then he kisses you. His lips move over yours with such aching tenderness that your knees almost buckle. His hands smooth over the curve of your waist, fingertips trailing lightly along your spine, sending shivers down your back, making you arch into him. Your fingers find the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric, gripping tighter as your body melts further into his.

Then he pulls away just enough to wrap his arms around you and effortlessly lift you off the ground. You gasp softly as he positions you carefully on the counter, ensuring you're comfortable. His fingers slip beneath the soft fabric of your sweater dress, and instinctively, you part your legs in silent invitation. He doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward, pressing into the space between your legs, his body crowding against yours. Then his hand ventures further, toward the ache pooling between your legs.

He pulls back just enough to watch you, his lips parted, his breath mingling with yours. His eyes flicker between your gaze and where his fingers now hover. Then—his fingertips graze over the damp fabric of your underwear and a sharp breath escapes you.

His voice drops to a husky murmur. “You’re already so wet for me.”

Heat licks up your spine, not just from the way he touches you, but from the way he looks at you—devouring, mesmerized. Your cheeks flush, warmth creeping up your neck, your ears. Your grip on his shirt tightens as his touch grows bolder, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your folds, teasing, coaxing.

Your lips part on a quiet whimper, and he catches it, swallowing the sound as he leans in again, capturing your mouth in another slow, intoxicating kiss. His teeth graze your bottom lip, a teasing scrape that makes you shudder against him, makes your body arch instinctively. His fingers press firmer, brushing up, down—catching against your clit with just enough friction. You gasp softly, tightening your grip on him, your hips shifting involuntarily.

Then, his fingers hook over the waistband of your underwear, and you rest your hand against his shoulder, lifting your hips to help him slide the fabric down your legs. Heat blooms across your cheeks when you catch him tucking the lace into his pocket, and you’re even more flustered when you see the mischievous smirk on his lips.

His fingers trail back between your legs, but the first brush of his fingers against your bare folds makes you jolt.

"Relax for me, honey." His voice is soft, soothing, his lips just a breath from yours.

You nod, your breath shaky as you let your body give in. His fingers slide along your wet heat, teasing and exploring in slow, tender strokes. Your grip tightens on his shoulder as one finger circles your entrance, prodding and testing you. A quiet gasp escapes you as you tug at his shirt, pulling him closer—and you press your lips to his, your tongue tangling with his.

Then his finger pushes in slowly, making you feel every inch of that delicious stretch and every slick, teasing glide. He finds that sweet spot with ease, the one that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl. A soft curse slips from your lips as he strokes it again and again, spreading tingling warmth through you.

He savors your soft, breathy whimpers as he slides a second finger inside, curling them just right and moving them in deep strokes.

"Does that feel good?" he murmurs, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

You can only nod, unable to form words when he’s touching you so perfectly. Your gaze flickers downward—between your legs, where his fingers move, where his hand glistens with your arousal—and the sight alone sends another pulse of heat through you.

Xavier’s lips curve in a soft, knowing smile as he takes in your expression, your half-lidded eyes, your parted lips. His free hand lifts, cradling the back of your neck, tilting your head to expose your neck to him. His lips graze your skin, teasing at first, before his tongue flicks out, dragging a wet trail along the sensitive slope of your neck.

A sharp gasp escapes you as his thumb presses against your clit. He circles it in slow, lazy swirls, the pleasure deepening, pooling low in your stomach. Your thighs tremble, hips shifting involuntarily, chasing more, needing more.

"That’s it, honey." he breathes against your throat, his fingers plunging deeper, working you open. He latches onto your skin, sucking gently, his breath fanning over the damp spot.

The hand on his shoulder moves to hold onto his forearm, each precise stroke sending jolts of pleasure through you, winding that coil in your belly impossibly tight. You’re right there, trembling on the edge, every breath a shaky, desperate gasp. If you had any control left, you would be embarrassed by the broken sounds spilling from your lips—whimpers, soft cries, the only thing you can manage being his name, over and over like a plea.

Xavier groans low in his throat. “You sound so fucking beautiful,” he rasps, lips brushing your ear. “Come for me, princess. I’ve got you.”

His control is slipping—you can hear it in his voice, feel it in the way his hips press forward, seeking friction against your thigh. He’s trembling, barely holding himself back, and the thought alone sends pleasure ripping through you. You shatter against him, burying your face in his neck as your release crashes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers, slick dripping down his hand. He holds you through it, his grip firm, his breath ragged, whispering praise into your hair, your pleasure undoing him just as much.

Your lips press against his throat, muffling the last of your cries as your body trembles against him, and he’s not so sure he can hold back any longer. His hand catches your chin, tilting your face toward his. His thumb brushes along your jaw, eyes locked onto yours, dark and desperate. His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his restraint hanging by a thread.

“I need to feel you.” His voice is barely more than a whisper, trembling. “Please.”

Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks of release, but you know you need more.

"Yes." You whisper, wasting no time to slip one hand between your bodies, trembling slightly as you reach for his pants.

Xavier groans softly, helping you with the belt when your hands fumble, his own need evident in the way he works quickly to unfasten it. The moment he pulls himself free, your breath catches—he's so hard, flushed and aching, the sight alone making you even more wet. You can’t help but wrap your fingers around him, feeling the weight, the heat, the pulse beneath your touch. When your thumb glides over the bead of precum on his tip, smearing it over the sensitive skin, a sharp hiss leaves his lips, his grip tightening on your waist.

"Fuck—" he exhales, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, stilling your touch before he brings your hand up, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of it. Then, as he lowers his gaze, positioning himself between your legs, his breath stutters again. His tip nudges against your soaked entrance, and just before he presses forward, his eyes flick back up to yours.

"I don’t have— Do you—?"

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you cradle his cheek, your thumb stroking along his jaw. "I'm covered," you murmur, brushing your lips over his. "And I trust you."

His exhale is shaky, his forehead pressing to yours before he finally moves. Carefully, the thick head of his cock begins to ease in, parting you with an aching stretch that has your body tensing before melting, your nails pressing into the firm muscles of his shoulders. You’re already so sensitive, still pulsing from his fingers, and this only adds to your dizzying arousal.

"Fuck," he grits out, his jaw clenching as he inches deeper. "You're so—"

The words die in a low groan as he bottoms out, pressing flush against you, his pelvis catching on your clit in a way that sends sparks through every nerve in your body. Your walls flutter around him, gripping him so tightly that he shudders, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Are you okay?" he breathes against your hair, his arms tightening around you.

You can’t speak—you can only whimper, nodding as your body adjusts. Your lips part against the crook of his neck, sucking lightly on the skin there, grounding yourself in the feel of him. His first thrust is slow, dragging — so controlled it’s almost torturous. You can feel the tremble in his muscles, the way his breath shakes as he exhales through gritted teeth.

"Look at you—so beautiful." A deep groan rumbles in his chest as you clench down around him, your walls gripping him so tight it makes his thrusts falter, his cock stroking against that perfect spot over and over.

Your hands slide up, fingers curling in his hair, tugging gently as you tilt your face up, finding his eyes.

"Xavier—ahh—" your voice is soft, pleading, "I’m so close. I need you—"

His cock twitches inside you, throbbing against your walls, slick and tight and perfect. His fingers dig into your hips, trying to hold back, but it’s no use. A desperate moan spills from your lips as his thumb returns to your clit, pressing, circling, matching the frantic stutter of his hips.

"You feel so fucking good," he rasps, voice wrecked, hoarse. "Taking me so well, honey."

Pleasure crashes into you, shattering, overwhelming. Your pussy clenches around him, pulsing, gripping, and Xavier curses under his breath, arms locking around you, holding you through it.

"That’s it—fuck—just like that,” he pants, breath shaky. “I’ve got you—haah—I'm so close."

His rhythm stutters, his hips grinding deeper, erratic, chasing the high. You’re still trembling, still lost in your high, but you don’t want him to stop—not with the way his cock throbs inside you, not with the way his breath stutters.

You tighten your legs around him, pulling him deeper. That’s all it takes.

Xavier chokes on a groan, his hands gripping you so tightly you know you’ll feel it tomorrow. His cock pulses, his entire body tensing as his release crashes into him, his hips pressing flush against yours as hot spurts of cum spill deep inside you. His breath breaks into uneven gasps against your ear as he grinds through it, his cum slipping out, messy and warm between you.

"Can’t get enough of you," he mutters, almost delirious. His lips brush your temple, his hands roam over you, slow, reverent. Even spent, his cock twitches inside you, hips rolling in lazy, absent thrusts, as if he’s already craving more.

"Never gonna get enough of you," he breathes.

Xavier doesn’t move for a while, and you don’t want him to. His arms stay wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest as his breath evens out, warm against your hair. His fingers trace light, absentminded patterns on your back, his other hand smoothing over the side of your waist, as if he can’t stop touching you. You sigh into him, boneless, completely melted in his hold, and he lets out a quiet, satisfied hum in response, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple.

His lips graze your forehead before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze is warm and tender as he takes in the sight of you in the afterglow, "You have no idea what you do to me."

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening slightly where they rest against his shoulder, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to say anything when all you want to do is hold onto this feeling forever.

So instead, you just nuzzle closer, in the crook of his neck where small, faint marks are forming on his skin. He smiles against your cheek, squeezing your waist before he loosens his hold, letting you shift against him.

And then your nose reminds you of something. Your eyes snap open, panic flashing through you as you sit up straight, hands flying to Xavier’s chest.

“Oh no!”

His brows furrow, confused at the sudden change. “What?”

“The bread!”

You scramble off the counter, adjusting your dress as best as you can, legs still shaky, as you rush to the oven, already bracing yourself for disaster. But when you peek inside, miraculously, the bread is still perfect. Golden brown, fluffy, not even close to burnt.

You let out a deep, relieved sigh.

As you take off the oven mitts after placing the bread on a cooling rack, you turn back to Xavier. He’s leaning lazily against the counter, pants in place, but his shirt still rumpled, his hair thoroughly disheveled. He looks impossibly handsome like this. But instead of letting yourself get distracted, you cross your arms, feigning a small pout. "You’re bad luck in the kitchen."

"Bad luck?" He tilts his head, and you instantly regret saying anything.

He pushes off the counter, strolling toward you with that confident ease, stopping just shy of pressing against you. "Didn’t seem like you minded the distraction."

Your face burns.

You could argue. You could roll your eyes, huff, tell him off for that smug little look he’s giving you. But what’s the point? He knows he’s right. And you’re too warm, too utterly spent to even deflect.

Before you can decide on a response, he moves.

One second, you’re standing there, legs still a little wobbly, and the next—Xavier scoops you up into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. A startled yelp slips past your lips, but it dissolves into breathless laughter as you grab onto his shoulders.

“Xavier—!”

But he only gives you a soft smile, before pressing his lips to yours.

By the time he pulls back, your head is spinning all over again.

He smirks down at you, adjusting his hold. “Come on, princess,” he murmurs, walking toward the bathroom. “We made a mess.”

As you gaze at his face, you muse how the once-distant, untouchable Xavier—the man who felt like a star too far away—has somehow become warm and steady and impossibly close.

And you’re just a giddy, melted puddle in his arms.

[artofelicia]

the biggest carrot hater

[fates-violet]

Miss Hunter and her UNICORNS neighbor

[omgpeachsnapple]

Sometimes I have the hardest time reconciling this doe-eyed, soft spoken little pookie with the absolute freak he really is.

[aikkyuu]

Nursing Sick! Xavier

Xavier’s definitely the type to act “still very sick with no strength” even after he’s recovered so he can cuddle.

11/10 beautifully written, I can imagine this as a 5 star Card.

21 Days - Day 13

The first sneeze was oddly endearing; it was the first time you'd ever heard him make such a sound and you secretly treasured it. It was another new memory to file away in the library of Xavier experiences in your mind.

The second and third sneezes were also cute, and you'd started to wonder if maybe Xavier had allergies. It was an odd thought. He so often seemed indestructible, and it had never occurred to you that he might have such a normal weakness. It made him feel more tangible somehow - less otherworldly.

The sneezes and small coughs that came after were mostly drowned out by the sound of your status report with Jenna. They were just a background hum while you sat in the living room and explained to her, again, that you still didn't have much to go on.

Jenna was patient, as always, and asked the same questions as before. Lying to her wasn't an option, not with the way her keen eyes cut right through you and could detect bullshit a mile away. So you stuck to the truth, just not the full truth.

There was no good way to explain that you spend more time wondering how to get Xavier's clothes off than you do trying to get information about the suspect. So you conveniently left that part out and focused instead on your plans to spend the next week scouting the neighboring businesses and shops. It wasn't a great strategy - one that was made up on the spot - but Jenna had seemed to agree that it was a good idea.

By the time you'd finished the call, Xavier's soft sounds of distress coming from the bedroom had quieted and the apartment was silent except for the small pattering of rain against the windows.

"Xav?" You call, wandering down the hall and quietly opening the bedroom door.

He's lying on the bed, huddled under a blanket, and you watch the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest for a few moments. Tiptoeing closer, you see that his cheeks are flushed and his ash-blonde hair is sticking damply around his hairline. Heat warms your palm instantly as you sit on the bed and press your hand to his forehead. His eyes remain closed, his breathing deep and even, but his skin is hot under your fingers.

"Xavier?" You whisper, brushing his damp locks away from his forehead, a feeling of worry gnawing at your stomach. This does not look like allergies.

His eyes flutter open, unfocused on yours, before he groans and closes them again like just the act of keeping them open is painful. He shifts listlessly, his arm reaching out for you but falling short by a few inches before stilling on the bed.

The small gesture awakens something infinitely tender inside of you. He's never sick - never weak. But right now he looks almost fragile - like he needs you. He's just a boy, you realize. Your sick, sweet boy who is vulnerable in a way you've never seen before. The sight steals the breath from your chest, and in its place blooms a certainty that is both natural and extraordinary all at once.

Falling in love is like being struck by lightning, you think. You can see it building as the clouds roll in, feel it rising in the tension of the air, and sense it before it comes. But it does not really hit you until it strikes, and once it does, you are struck instantly and completely by it - helpless but to let it flow through you. And you know undoubtedly that is what you are right now, helpless but to love him.

It was bound to happen eventually; you can only fall for so long before you finally hit the ground. And now, that moment had arrived. There was no grand gesture in it; no romantic words or passionate declarations that finally tipped the scale. It was just a sick boy, shivering in a quiet room, using the last of his strength to reach for you.

"Hey, I’m right here," you murmur, reaching out to take his hand. Your own trembles slightly as you realize how totally and completely you have fallen for him.

His eyes blink open again, and this time he finds your face and focuses on it. His smile is weak, and his voice sounds hoarse and rougher than usual, "Was I asleep for a long time?"

"Not for a long time. Maybe an hour."

"Where were you?" he asks, tightening his fingers around your hand.

"I had a meeting with Jenna. You slept through it."

"I'm so tired..." He breathes the words out, the exhaustion clear in his voice.

This is not normal tiredness. You've seen him all sorts of tired; from falling asleep mid-conversation to actually sleeping while standing up. But this is clearly something different, and the impossible idea that Xavier, untouchable and indestructible, might actually be ill solidifies in your mind.

"I think you're sick," You say dumbly, stating the obvious.

"Not sick," he mumbles, "just tired."

You stare at him for a long moment as he closes his eyes again, noting the shivers wracking his body. He is most definitely sick - you're just not sure how sick. Fevered, definitely. You don't need a medical degree to know that.

Even half asleep, he seems to sense your movement as you rise from the bed, his fingers tightening around your hand instinctively.

"Don't leave me," he begs, his tone needy and urgent. "You can't ever leave me again. Please. I'll do anything."

You freeze with your hips hovering above the edge of the bed, the desperation in his voice holding you to the spot. When your eyes land on his, the pain you see there is confusing and heartbreaking. Why is he looking at you like that? What is he talking about? You can't recall a single time you've ever left him, but he's looking at you like he's terrified going to disappear.

"Xav, I'm not leaving." You say softly, sitting back down on the bed, confusion and concern warring in your mind.

"Good," Xavier says softly, the tension straining his neck and shoulders relaxing at your words. "I missed you so much. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

His tone is genuine and he looks relieved that you're no longer pulling away, but it only serves to make you feel more confused. He is acting like you were gone for years rather than an hour. You're still trying to wrap your mind around his words as his grip on your hand loosens and he falls back into a fitful sleep.

It's worse than you thought, you realize. He's not making any sense - remembering something that doesn't have anything to do with you. Jealousy burns in your chest as it occurs to you that maybe those words are meant for someone else - some other girl he's so afraid of losing - but you push the thought aside. The only thing that matters right now is taking care of him.

You gently pull your hand free from his grasp, careful not to wake him, and stand from the bed. His eyes snap open at the loss of contact, and you interrupt him before he can speak, "I'll be right back. I'm just going to check your temperature, okay? Hold on a sec."

You rush toward the bathroom, trying to ignore the way he whimpers your name as you slip out of the bedroom. Anxiety gnaws at you, a tight knot in your stomach, as you wonder what the hell is going on. Is he hallucinating? Is that typical for a fever? It doesn’t seem like it—not with any fevers you've ever had, at least.

Your breaths are shaky as you scrabble around the bathroom cabinet, unsure if you even own a thermometer. Neither of you had a lot of time to prepare for this trip, and it's unlikely either of you would have thought to bring one. However, luck is on your side as you find one jammed into the corner with the bandaids. You're not even sure where it came from, but its origin is the least of your worries at the moment.

The anxiety is starting to feel a bit more like panic as Xavier's words replay in your mind, and you resist the urge to consult doctor Google. There's a better option, and he is just a text away.

You: Can a fever cause hallucinations?

A few moments pass, and you check the time, realizing that it's early afternoon and Zayne is probably working. It's selfish to think that he would ever be at your beck and call; he could be elbow deep in someone's chest right now. But your phone reliably buzzes in your hand seconds later.

Zayne: Are you ill? Send me your address. I'll come now.

You: No I'm fine! But I think my partner is really sick. He has a fever. I think he's hallucinating.

Zayne: Hallucination is not uncommon with high fevers. What is his temperature?

You: Uhh...I don't know yet.

Zayne: Don't you think that might be useful information?

You: I'm working on it!

Zayne: Fever in adults is rarely cause for concern and is best treated at home.

You: Oh ok. What should I do?

Zayne: Acetaminophen every 4-6 hours will suffice. Proper hydration is also helpful.

You: Thank you Dr. Zayne! I don't know what I would do without you.

Zayne: It's better for both of us to never find out.

You smile briefly at his response - his wry dedication, and slip your phone back into your pocket. You snag the Tylenol from the top shelf, and jog back into the bedroom with both items in hand. Xavier is still lying in the same spot, and the relief on his face is clear the moment he sees you.

"You came back."

"Of course I came back, Xav," You soothe him, sitting on the edge of the bed, showing him the thermometer and the medicine.

His eyes are focused only on yours, as if the contents of your hands don’t exist, and he grasps your thigh in his palm. "I won't let you go. Not this time. I'll stay here with you."

His lucidity right now is questionable, but that knowledge doesn't stop the ache his words cause in your chest. Whatever he is hallucinating is torturing him, and the anguish and devotion shining in his eyes is hard to look at. A dozen questions burn your throat, but you swallow them—pressing for details might only make whatever he's hallucinating feel more real.

"No one is going anywhere, bunny. I promise," You say, guiding the thermometer to his mouth. "Open up for me."

He obediently parts his lips, allowing you to slide the thermometer in, and you hold your breath as you wait for the results. The moment stretches, each passing second causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. After what feels like a small eternity, the thermometer finally emits a series of sharp beeps.

103 degrees Fahrenheit. Shit. This is bad. You already knew it was bad, but this confirms it.

"Xav, I think you need to go to the hospital. Like right now."

He glances at the thermometer and groans softly. "Could've been worse," he mumbles. "I don't need to go to the hospital. It's just a fever."

He is not in a position to know what he needs right now, and your instincts scream that you should ignore him. But Zayne made it seem like this was not such a big deal, and he has yet to ever be wrong. You trust him with your life and, apparently, Xavier's life, too.

"Alright, no hospital. Yet. Can you take these pills for me?" You ask, reaching for the glass of water already sitting on his bedside table.

It's a struggle for him to sit up, and he clutches his head like he's dizzy as he leans back against the headboard. He swallows the pills you press into his mouth with a grimace, then pats the bed beside him.

"Come here."

Lying in bed with someone so fevered that they're not functional is a horrible idea, you know. But the need in his voice is hard to resist, and it would be impossible to deny him anything when he's looking at you like that. Against your better judgment and Dr. Zayne's voice in the back of your mind, you hesitantly slip under the blanket and into bed beside him, leaving as much room between the two of you as possible.

"No, come closer," he says, pulling you forward by your waist with strength you weren't expecting.

He sighs contentedly as you press close, as if the simple act of holding you brings him relief. His arms tighten around you, his forehead resting gently against yours, and it’s instantly clear—even through your clothes—that he’s burning up. Holding him feels like hugging a furnace.

"Your forehead feels pretty cold," He laughs softly. "It might help my temperature go down."

You huff a small laugh, "Just rest, okay? Close your eyes. The medicine will start working soon."

He cups your face as he pulls back to look at you, his fingers burning into your skin. His eyes are uncertain and he searches your face as if trying to memorize it, "You won't leave me, right? I don't know if I can find you again. But I would never stop looking."

The way he says it, so filled with doubt and longing, is nearly unbearable to hear. He says it so brokenly and honestly that it feels like more than just delirium; like he means it more than he has ever meant anything. It's a truth you don't understand, but you believe him.

"Never," You whisper, covering his hand on your cheek with your own. "You're stuck with me forever now. I'm not leaving."

He smiles, the worry fading from his expression as he sinks back into the pillows and closes his eyes. His hand slips down to rest on your neck, his thumb gently tracing along your jawline before he goes still. He drifts back to sleep instantly, his breathing evening out and softening.

You hold him for a long time, counting each of his breaths to try to distract yourself from your tangled thoughts. None of his words made any sense, but they were spoken so genuinely and earnestly that you cannot get them out of your head. He's terrified of losing you, but he has never had you more completely. Why was he so scared? What memory was haunting him? You could spend every moment for the next year trying to figure it out, and probably still be wrong.

You want to ask him—you need to know. He might actually tell you right now, something he’d never reveal if he were fully himself. Could this be the secret he guards so fiercely? This isn't just the rambling of a fever dream; there’s something real beneath it. He spoke as if remembering a mistake, as if he were making a promise. A promise not to leave again. But when had he ever left you? Is that promise for someone else?

The heat radiating from his body is almost overwhelming beneath the blanket and his body trembles against yours as the fever burns through him. He feels damp everywhere you're pressed together, and every small, rattling cough that leaves his mouth jostles you slightly. But still - it's him - your home. And the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear is familiar and comforts your conflicted thoughts. The choice to question him or not is made for you as his warmth and steady pulse lull you to sleep.

By the time you wake, the rain has stopped, and you’re drenched in sweat—whether it’s yours or Xavier’s, you’re not sure. He’s still asleep beside you, breathing steadily, and when you press the back of your hand to his forehead, it’s cooler to the touch.

The medicine must be working. Thank God. Zayne was right. When is he not?

As you pull your hand away, Xavier stirs, his eyes fluttering open slowly. Relief floods through you as his gaze, though tired, appears sharper and more alert. His eyes find yours with surprising clarity, and a gentle, lazy smile spreads across his face. He’s back, you think—fully himself again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better. I’m fine now." He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You've always had a healing effect on me, didn't you know?"

You roll your eyes at his playful remark, but the knot of worry in your stomach finally relaxes. He must be better—he’s feeling well enough to flirt.

“You are not fine,” you counter, brushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead, still warm to the touch. “I’ll decide when you’re fine. You’re my patient now.”

"I'm okay with this," he answers agreeably, leaning into the press of your hand. His eagerness for your touch reminds you of a happy dog, craving every bit of affection it can get.

"Have you eaten today? You've been asleep for a while now. Do you think you could eat something?"

"Since I'm your patient and you're taking care of me, you decide. What will you prepare for me? Chocolate mousse? Braised short ribs?"

You snort at his suggestions, disentangling yourself from his arms. Of course those would be his requests; he is definitely back to the Xavier you know and love.

Love, that's right. You love him. Not sort of. Not kind of. Not maybe. You do.

"I don't think so, mister." You answer, trying to refocus your thoughts. "Is that what you normally have when you're sick?"

His brows draw together as he thinks for a moment. "This rarely happens. I don't remember what I had last time."

"I was thinking something more along the lines of chicken soup and honey lemon tea."

You ignore his groan of protest as you climb out of the bed, deftly evading the hands that are reluctant to let you leave. The air feels cool against your damp skin, and you shiver slightly as you head into the kitchen. Your thoughts whir as you look through the cabinets and set the kettle to boil.

You love him, and he's keeping something from you, and your life with him here isn't even real whilst also being the only future that you can imagine for yourself. 

Your hands shake slightly as you heat the soup on the stove, and it takes more concentration than it should to pour the tea without spilling it everywhere.

He must love you, too. There is not a universe that exists in which he does not love you, you think. But he is hiding something from you, that much is obvious. You have always sensed it without knowing what it was, and it stands between you like a ghost - invisible but haunting him. The love that he seems to feel for you shines in every look and rings true in every word, but it's incomplete somehow. It's as if there's something, or someone (your mind cruelly suggests), already occupying the space in his heart that you so badly want to fill.

Your hands stop trembling and your racing thoughts begin to slow and settle as you carry his tray back into the bedroom a few minutes later. Now isn't the time to interrogate him, you decide. That's not what he wants, and you're not sure you're ready to hear the truth. You'll exorcize that ghost eventually.

Besides, do the answers even matter if he's not ready to give them yet?

"Here, sit up," you tell him, placing his tray of food and drink on the bedside table as you cross the room. You reach over and prop the pillows against the headboard so he can lean back on them and he eagerly lets you position him however you please.

He sips his tea and eats his soup with none of his usual fervor, but he looks slightly better, definitely more alert and present. From the edge of the bed, you watch him closely, eyes darting over the lingering flush in his cheeks, scanning for any hint that things might still be as serious as you feared. But when he sets the bowl aside and gives you a soft, sheepish smile, some of the tension coiled tightly in your back begins to ease.

"I gave you quite the scare today, huh?"

"That is...an understatement," You laugh, knowing he has no idea just how worried you actually were. "How are you feeling?"

“The medicine helped, but I still feel awful. What should I do?" he asks, his voice soft and pitiful, as he shifts to lie back down on the bed.

Despite his words and tone, there's a hint of playfulness in his expression—his lips are pouted, plump and full, and his eyes have an unmistakably hopeful look in them. 

It’s obvious that he’s feeling a bit better if he has the energy to pout, and he's clearly up to something. 

You scoot forward and reach out to feel his forehead, which is still warm but no longer scalding. "Hmm. You're still kind of warm, Xav. Maybe a cold compress might help. Like a damp towel?"

"A damp towel?" He repeats, as if it is the worst idea he has ever heard. "No, I don't need that."

"Uh, what about more tea then?"

He shakes his head, his pout becoming more pronounced. "No, not tea either."

"Should I take your temperature again?" You offer.

He fixes you with an unimpressed look and shakes his head again.

"I'm not a very good nurse. You're my first patient," you admit with a small laugh. "I suck at this."

His pout curls up into a smile, and you can see the gears whirring to life behind his eyes before the words even make it to his mouth.

"Caring for me isn't that hard." He says, shifting to scoot over in the bed and patting the spot beside him. "You can do anything to take care of me, like keeping me warm."

"Are you cold?" You ask skeptically.

He nods, a smile starting to form on his lips before he schools his face back into a pout, "Uh huh. I feel cold all of a sudden. Maybe the blanket is too thin or maybe I'm still really sick..."

He shuffles the blankets around helplessly before reaching for you, "Do you want to lie down next to me? I'm ill, so I don't have the strength to do anything..."

You have to fight a smile as you disapprovingly raise an eyebrow at his last comment. It's such an obvious ploy, but it's also just pathetic enough that you cannot find it in your heart to resist him.

"Fine," you mutter, but a smile twitches at the corner of your lips, betraying your amusement, as you slip into the bed beside him. His hand is on your waist firmly tugging you closer the moment the blankets settle against your skin.

"Oh, what's this?" You laugh against his chest. "I thought you didn't have the strength to do anything?"

"You were so far away," he replies, gently stroking your hair. "I couldn't feel your warmth. You have to help me recharge."

You hum in acknowledgement, wrapping an arm around his chest. "How's this then? Warmer now?"

He nuzzles his face against your hair and places a kiss against the top of your head, "I do feel warmer now...but it's not enough."

"No?"

You feel him shake his head, and in an instant, he rolls the two of you over, pressing your back into the mattress as he braces his arms on either side of you, settling his weight on top of you.

“If I hold you like this…” he says, nudging your thighs apart with his knees, “it’ll definitely be warmer.”

"Will it?" You ask softly, biting your bottom lip as you look up at him, uncertain of how far you should let him get away with this while he's still sick.

"And if we get closer," he whispers, lowering his weight on top of you, pinning you beneath him. "I'll be able to recover even faster."

The press of his body against yours is warm, but no longer sweltering like it was hours ago. And as he shifts his hips against yours, a new kind of heat ignites low in your belly as you feel the thick length of him pressing against you. This feels like such a good bad idea, but you know you should stop him. He can't have recovered this quickly.

You reluctantly fix him with a stern look, and try to squirm out from under him. "Xav, now is not the time. You were delirious a few hours ago."

"Please," He begs, grabbing your hips firmly with both hands, refusing to let you slip away. "Let me get closer to you."

His plea is filled with desperation and longing, and his soft kisses against your neck are making you forget why exactly you thought this was a bad idea. When his lips find yours, his kiss is so unbelievably filled with need that you melt into it instantly, parting your lips for him without hesitation. A groan catches in his throat as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue against yours.

"I need you closer," He whispers against your mouth, sliding his hands under your shirt. His fingers tremble against your skin as he cups your breasts through your bra and rocks his hips against yours. His touch is rough and uncoordinated, lacking his usual finesse in his effort to feel more of you.

“So needy,” you tease, watching him lean back to pull off his shirt before quickly covering your body with his, as if he can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment.

"I'm so much needier than you think," He admits, burying his face in your neck. "I always need you like this."

"Like this?" You ask, rolling your hips to meet his and moaning at the friction against your core.

“Yeah,” he groans, his hand slipping from beneath your shirt to glide down your stomach, slowly sliding into the waistband of your leggings. “Like this.”

Your pussy aches with desire as you realize where his hand is headed, and you use the very last of your resolve to grasp his wrist. Your breathing sounds harsh in your ears as you look up at him and gasp out, "Wait, Xav. As your nurse, I have to tell you to stop. You're still sick. You should be resting."

"My nurse?" He repeats, shaking his head and leaning down to kiss you. "I don't need a nurse right now. I need my girlfriend."

His words are a shock to your system, and your fingers on his wrist loosen on their own. His girlfriend. Is that what you are? You'd danced around it for days now, but neither of you had put a label on anything. You'd been waiting - hoping he might ask. Hoping he might give you some indication that your relationship could go on beyond the bounds of this assignment.

“Am I your girlfriend?” You ask breathlessly, a moan escaping your lips as his hand slides under your panties, his fingers finding your slick clit and circling it slowly.

His fingers pause as he registers your question, and his expression morphs from hunger into adorable confusion, his brows knitting together, "Of course. You're mine, aren't you?"

There’s a hint of vulnerability in his voice, but the possessive look in his eyes erases any doubt from your mind. There was never any uncertainty for him, you realize. There was no need for a conversation because you'd belonged to him from the first moment he kissed you - maybe even longer.

"Yes," you answer, more certain than you've ever been in your life. "I'm yours."

[lumierexavi]

these glasses >>>>