#xavier

[birf]

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You sit beside Xavier on the bench in the park, watching people pass by as golden afternoon light filters through the leaves. The air smells of fresh-cut grass and distant food carts. A stylish couple walks past, the woman’s laughter musical, her confidence evident in every step.

“I wish I was pretty like her,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, your fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden bench.

Xavier turns to you, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. His brows furrow deeply, eyes widening just a fraction.

“What... did you say?” he asks, his tone remaining even despite the clear puzzlement in his eyes. He shifts his body toward you, giving you his full attention.

“Nothing, just...” you gesture vaguely toward the retreating couple. “Sometimes I don’t feel very attractive. Especially around people like that.”

Xavier stares at you for a long moment, looking genuinely bewildered. The silence stretches between you, broken only by distant children’s laughter and birdsong.

“I don’t understand,” he finally says.

You start to explain, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his unwavering gaze, but he gently places his hand over yours, the warmth of his palm surprising against your skin.

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head slightly. “I mean I don’t understand why you would think that. It doesn’t make sense.” His thumb traces a small circle on the back of your hand. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he states matter-of-factly. “I’ve always thought so.”

Coming from Xavier, the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip.

“You don’t have to say that,” you protest weakly, looking down at where his hand covers yours.

Xavier shakes his head, leaning closer. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. I don’t...” he pauses, carefully selecting his words, “understand how you can’t see what I see.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the pressure gentle but grounding. “Every time I look at you, I...” He struggles with the words, clearly moving outside his comfort zone. A faint color touches his usually pale cheeks. “From a purely objective standpoint, the way you look—” He stops, frustrated with himself, and takes a deep breath.

“That’s not what I meant to say.” He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, there’s a rare vulnerability there. “What I mean is that you’re beautiful. In every way that matters. Your smile when you’re excited about something. The way your eyes light up when you talk about things you care about. How your whole face changes when you’re lost in thought.”

He reaches up with his free hand, hesitating just shy of touching your face. “I’ve remembered every expression you make. I’ve studied them all.” He looks away, embarrassed by his own earnestness. “You’re beautiful. Please, don’t think otherwise.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, as if relieved to have expressed something he’s held inside for too long. He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the afternoon.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

You’re helping Zayne organize his medical journals in his office as late afternoon shadows stretch across the polished floors. The pristine space feels both clinical and comforting—much like the man himself.

As you reach up to place a heavy volume on the top shelf, you catch your reflection in the large window overlooking the city. The bright lighting does you no favors.

“Ugh,” you mutter, tugging self-consciously at your clothes. “I look awful today.”

Zayne glances up from his desk where he’s been meticulously updating patient files. He sets down his pen, the soft click audible in the sudden silence. His eyes, usually so focused on his work, now study you with that penetrating gaze that seems to see beneath surfaces.

“What brought this on?” he asks, his voice filling the room.

“Nothing specific,” you say, turning away from your reflection. “Just... some days I don’t feel pretty, that’s all.”

Zayne stands. He gestures to the leather chair beside his own. “Sit.”

You comply, watching as he leans against his desk, arms folded across his chest. The setting sun through the windows casts half his face in shadow, highlighting the sharp angles of his features.

“Are you overthinking again?” he asks directly, but there’s no judgment in his tone. “Or did someone say something to you today?”

“Just overthinking, I guess,” you admit, fidgeting under his steady gaze.

He nods once, as if confirming a diagnosis. “I see.” He’s silent for a moment.

“Beauty is subjective,” he begins. “But if you’re asking for my opinion...” The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be the ghost of a smile. “You’re more than perfect. Inside and out.”

When you start to protest, he raises a hand to stop you.

“I don’t make observations lightly. You know that.” His eyes hold yours. “I’ve studied human anatomy for years. I’ve seen thousands of faces.” He leans forward slightly. “None of them affect me the way yours does.”

The admission seems to surprise even him, a rare moment of vulnerability from someone so carefully composed.

Suddenly, he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a small chocolate wrapped in gold foil. It’s from the exclusive chocolatier across town—the one he pretends not to favor.

He places it in your palm, his fingers lingering against yours longer than necessary. “Here,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Sweet for the sweet.”

Before you can respond, he leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. The momentary closeness allows you to catch the subtle scent of his aftershave mingled with antiseptic.

“Now,” he says, straightening himself, “wait for me to finish organizing these journals so we can go home. I’m thinking of dinner at that place you like on Fifth Street.” He turns back to his desk, but not before adding, “And no more nonsense about not being pretty. I won’t have the person I care for most questioning their worth.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

You’re sitting on the private beach adjoining Rafayel’s seaside studio, watching him add final touches to a vibrant seascape painting. The ocean stretches endlessly before you, waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The air tastes of salt and fresh breeze. Seagulls circle overhead, their calls mingling with the gentle lapping of water against sand.

Rafayel stands before his painting, completely absorbed in his work. Paint splatters decorate his rolled-up sleeves and there’s a smudge of blue across his cheekbone. The wind tousles his already disheveled hair as he captures the dance of light on water.

A group of beautiful people laugh further down the beach, their perfect silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. You glance down at yourself, then back at them, feeling suddenly out of place in this picturesque setting.

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough for this place,” you whisper, the breeze carrying your words away—or so you think.

Rafayel’s hand freezes. He turns to you slowly, paint-speckled fingers stilling on the canvas, his expression transforming from focus to complete disbelief.

“What did you just say?” His usually playful voice has an edge to it now, sharp as broken glass.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” you reply, regretting having spoken at all.

“No, no, no,” he sets his palette down with a clatter on the small table beside him. “You don’t get to say things like that and dismiss them as ’nothing.’” In an instant, he takes a seat on your side. “Did someone say something to you?” he demands, looking around the empty beach as if searching for culprits. “Which human do I need to have a word with?”

“No one said anything, Rafayel. It’s just how I feel sometimes,” you admit.

“That’s even worse! Your own mind betraying you like this?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “This is an emergency. A catastrophe of the highest order!”

He grabs your shoulders. “You are an absolute masterpiece. Do you understand? A masterpiece. I know art. I create art. I live and breathe beauty in all its forms. And you—” he pokes your cheek lightly, leaving a tiny dot of turquoise paint, “—are the finest creation I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

When you try to look away, embarrassed by his intensity, he gently tilts your chin back. The setting sun reflects in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold. “The ocean is jealous of your depths. The stars envy your brilliance.” His voice softens, becoming almost reverent. “And I would swim across every sea before I let you believe you’re anything less than stunning.”

He wraps his arms around you suddenly, clinging like a child. “Now don’t say such ridiculous things again. It offends my artistic sensibilities.”

He then stands, pulling you up with him. “Come on. We’re going to watch the sunset together. I’ll show you how I see you.” He places a brush in your hand, his fingers lingering. “And maybe then you’ll understand why I can’t look away.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You stand before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in Sylus’s penthouse suite, overlooking the sprawling N109 Zone from stories up. The city stretches below like a circuit board of neon and shadow, vehicles and people reduced to tiny moving points of light. The luxurious room behind you is bathed in the soft glow of artfully placed lamps illuminating his collection of rarities—collections plucked from across time and space.

Catching your reflection in the darkened glass, superimposed over the glittering cityscape, you murmur without thinking, “I don’t know why you keep me around. I’m not even pretty.”

The room falls silent. You hear Sylus set down whatever gem he was examining, the soft clink of crystal against metal followed by his steady steps as he approaches.

“What an odd thing to say,” he remarks, his voice silky yet sharp as a blade, “because you’re entirely incorrect.”

You turn to find him watching you, head slightly tilted.

“Did I hear you questioning your beauty?” A smirk plays on his lips, but his eyes remain serious, almost stern. “After all this time with me, you should know very well that I have exceptional taste.”

He closes the distance between you. He places his hands on your waist, positioning you both so your reflections are visible in the window. His gaze in the reflection holds nothing but admiration.

“Do you think I surround myself with anything less than perfection?” He gestures to the rare treasures adorning his collection shelf—items worth more than most people earn in a lifetime. “Do you imagine I would waste my time on someone who didn’t captivate me entirely?”

His fingers trace your jawline, feather-light. “Hundreds of rare gems, ancient artifacts, priceless paintings—I collect only the extraordinary, the unique.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “And yet, not one of these treasures compares to your presence and beauty.”

When you start to protest, he places a finger gently against your lips. “I don’t tolerate self-deprecation from the one person in this universe I genuinely cherish.”

He turns you to face him fully now, both hands cupping your face with surprising tenderness from someone so powerful, so used to taking what he wants. Your disbelief must show on your face because he chuckles softly.

“Your beauty is not up for debate, not even by you. Challenge me on anything else if you wish, demand whatever your heart desires—but on this matter, I will not yield.”

He steps back after brushing a kiss against your forehead, apparently considering the matter settled. “Now come here and tell me what you want instead of what you think you lack. That’s much more productive, don’t you agree?”

He gestures to the plush sofa. “Sit down and tell me about your day today. I haven’t heard you talking about it.” His expression softens further. “Let’s talk about that instead.”

As you join him, he casually drapes an arm around you, pulling you closer. “And tomorrow,” he murmurs against your hair, “I’ll show you exactly how beautiful you are to me. I have something special planned—something worthy of you.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

You’re absently scrolling through your phone as you accompany Caleb while he sorts through Fleet reports in his home office. The space reflects his dual nature—military precision in the organized shelves and structured workspace, but touches of warmth in the photographs and mementos from his DAA days. The soft glow of multiple screens illuminates the room as rain patters against the windows, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Caleb sits at his desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he reviews security protocols. His uniform jacket hangs on the back of his chair, sleeves of his standard-issue shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms. Despite the late hour, his posture remains perfect—the Colonel, always on duty.

Glancing up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflective surface of a dormant monitor. The unflattering blue light highlights every perceived imperfection.

“Ugh,” you mutter under your breath, running a self-conscious hand through your hair. “I look terrible today.”

Caleb’s head snaps up from his work. “What did you just say?” There’s a sudden alertness in his posture, as if responding to a threat.

“Just that I’m not looking my best,” you shrug, trying to downplay it, surprised by his intense reaction. 

Caleb stands, his chair rolling backward. His eyes narrow as he scans the room like he’s searching for enemies in a combat zone. “Who put that idea in your head?”

The protective edge in his voice takes you by surprise.

“No one, Caleb. It’s just how I feel sometimes.” You set down your phone, touched by his concern even as you try to ease it.

His expression darkens for a moment before he walks towards you. “Hey,” he says, crouching beside where you’re seated and taking your hands in his. “Look at me.”

When you meet his eyes, they’re filled with the same warmth they held when you were both kids, before the Fleet, before the incident—before everything changed.

“I’ve watched you grow more beautiful every single day since we were kids,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The calluses on his palms catch slightly against your skin. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to be with you.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. Rain continues to drum against the windows, creating a private world just for the two of you.

“You’ve always been the prettiest person in any room to me. Always will be. Nothing compares to coming home to you.”

His smile returns. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of people try to catch my eye over the years. None of them even came close. It’s just not possible when my mind can only think of you.”

He presses a soft kiss onto your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “So no more of this ‘not pretty’ talk, okay? Or I’ll have to issue an official declaration about how gorgeous you are, and that would be really embarrassing for everyone involved.”

Based on this request.

[mwphisto]

Simple things that turn LnDs men on~

Including: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, and Caleb x reader. Reader is implied female but most can be interpreted however you please!

Warning, this post is 18+! Some lighter smut since my brain cannot handle anything else atm (I’m graduating university in 3 weeks)

Shifting banner from @cafekitsune <3

Xavier

Cuddling with you, seeing you sleepy and warm and soft in his embrace, under his blankets, in his bed. He can’t help it, you’re just so perfect, so sweet in this state. His hands can’t help but wander, sliding over your soft tummy, your thighs, eventually landing to cup your chest. His nose nuzzles into the crown of your head, inhaling your shampoo, and the next thing he knows? His hips are swiveling softly into the plush of your ass.

When you get mad. He’s not capable of explaining why his body has the reaction it does. Other than the plain statement of “you’re hot when you’re mad.” Which isn’t a lie, Xavier finds you so hot when you’re angry. Seeing you so passionate about something that it gets your blood boiling? He’s thinking of ways to get you to cool down. How easily he could switch the downward tilt of your brows into something far more… relaxed… pleased… blissed out…

Sitting on his lap is a definite way to get his attention. Xavier can get a bit lost in his hobbies, whether it be reading or scrolling articles on his phone. Sometimes the call of his name doesn’t snap him out of his trance. But you know what does? Settling your pretty self on his muscular legs, a smile on your lips, your hands cupping his cheeks and guiding him up towards your glittery eyes. The weight of you on him, the warmth, the surprise of his train of thought being interrupted, all of it has his heart rate spiking. Until all he can see, hear, and feel is you.

Rafayel

Matching his energy can totally catch the artist off guard — the absolute best way. To be blunt, you’re able to match his freak so well he can’t help but get turned on at how in sync the two of you are. His beautiful bride, perfect in every way. When you two are so effortlessly on the same page, he finds himself struggling to keep his composure. Luckily for him, you always seem to know what he’s thinking without him so much as saying a word.

Willingly being his muse just might send Raf into a coma. Seeing you sprawled over his couch, barely dressed so he can do some anatomy sketches has him shifting uncomfortably on his stool. Your sweet smile, delicate and skilled hands, the way you whisper his name while he scribbles on his paper with a rosy blush on his cheeks. You’re just so effortlessly beautiful it drives him insane.

Noticing the smallest details about him will get his head spinning. Rafayel harbors a lot of mixed emotions regarding his past and he loves you wholeheartedly but sometimes he just can’t… let go. When you take the time to get to know him — or as much as he’s willing to give you — and you actually pick up on things that go unsaid? His head is spinning, his heart pounding, the seal on his chest burning brightly. He wants to devote himself to you, it’s just part of his nature at this point. Eventually, he’ll work through it all and give into what he needs most…

Zayne

Your laughter sends his heart into a nose dive. He’s never been one for jokes, his dry humor often carrying him through. But when he says something that genuinely has you belly laughing, his name a sweet melody on your lips as you try and contain your giggles? He’s shifting his legs to hide the growing tension between his legs. You look at him with such adoration, so sweet and delicate, he has to reign himself in before frost creeps up his neck.

Giving him your full attention when he begins to ramble about nerdy medical things definitely causes the surgeon to lose his train of thought. You may not understand the scientific terms he’s using, and you may feel a bit bad when he has to explain them again with simpler terminology, but your attention is undivided regardless. And Zayne notices, of course he does. His heart is pounding as he rattles off all of his fascinations — such as new research he’s compiled about neonatal heart defects. You’re so engaged with him, nodding along and even asking him some questions. He’s fighting the urge to kiss you senseless. After a long day you’re so willing to listen to him ramble on about his research? He’s going to marry you, and fuck you senseless for being such a good girl.

Taking care of him, such as shaving his face or washing his hair will have Zayne be putty in your hands. He does so much for others, puts so much care and effort into making their lives better. It’s only right that you step up and do the same for Dr. Zayne. Though, bless him, he didn’t expect you to straddle his lap and shave him with a straight razor. Didn’t expect to be engulfed by the sent of your perfume as you settle your weight on his legs and glide the razor over his skin. It’s intimate, the proximity of your bodies is close enough to generate some warmth. He’ll lose it before you’re able finish one side of his unshaven cheek.

Sylus

Skinship with the leader of Onychinus is pretty special. Sylus savors every second of it, given that your hands rarely touch him outside of holding his waist when on his bike. The feeling of your fingers on his cheeks, your legs caging his as you sit together on the couch, your fingers intertwining with his. He’s a goner, so touch starved it’s nearly pitiful. He’s always been a man of composure, but god dammit you’re just so soft compared to him. You’re so warm and smell so good and you’re just so… you’re so sparing with your touches. As if you’re hesitant, not sure if he’d want your hands on him in the first place. Drives him so insane, he craves to hold you close but doesn’t want to push you before you’re ready.

Seeing you wear clothes he picked out for you has Sylus adjusting his collar and inhaling deep through his nose. His mark is on you, even if it’s not on your skin, you’re dressed so beautifully. You match him, compliment him perfectly. You look so breathtaking he has to mentally pat himself on the back for having such damn good taste. Seeing you feel yourself in what he’s picked does wonders for his already big ego. Seeing you twirl and smile as you admire yourself in the dress, the skirt, the pants, the shirt, whatever he’s picked out for you for the occasion. It gives him a sense of pride, like he’s done good, and it’s a genuine plus that you look so goddamn perfect in every outfit.

Kissing his knuckles nearly sends him over the edge one night. You had finished cleaning some wounds while his evol recharged and sealed the deal with a gingerly placed kiss on his battered knuckles. Sylus nearly sees stars because of it, such an overwhelming surge of possessiveness and heat flooding his weary veins that he nearly pops a hard-on then and there on the floor.

Caleb

Stealing his clothing is something you’ve always done. Something about it being comfier, softer, smelling like him. God he doesn’t even care for the reason, he just knows you look so divine in his shirt, his boxers, his hoodie. So cute and small compared to him, marked as his for anyone who has the gracious opportunity to see you in such a state. He guesses it’s only fair you steal his clothes, since he has a small — but growing — collection of your panties—

Relying on him 100% would put Caleb on cloud nine. Giving up your tough guy act and simply putting all of your needs on him would have him struggling to keep his composure long enough to actually see the tasks through. Could be something as simple as asking him to cut up some fruit for you, could be as complicated as giving your bike a tuneup. Regardless, Caleb is blissed out and glossy-eyed as he shows his love for you in his favorite fashion.

Slipping into his bed in the middle of the night has been something you’ve done since childhood. Bad dream, can’t sleep, anxious or stressed, Caleb’s arms have always been your biggest comfort. He waits for it, waits for the creak of his door and your quiet whisper of permission. He craves the dip of his mattress, the weight and warmth of your body next to his under his sheets. He has to be mindful of where his hips land on you, purely out of fear that you might feel something you’re not supposed to just yet.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

restless nights.

you get into an argument and they become restless without you by their side.

angst with comfort. apologies for any ooc moments and stubborn mc/reader.

sylus

"I'm not taking you with me."

His words left no room for anymore rebuttals. No matter how persistent you got and what reasoning you gave, Sylus continues to reject your request to join him for the upcoming Onychinus mission.

He's never had a problem with you tagging along before, so why now? You've learned from Luke and Kieran that Sylus will be dealing with one of the most dangerous men they'd ever met, so you wanted to support him. When you brought the topic up to him, all he said was that the setting will be too much for you.

You reassured him that you can handle anything, being a hunter who's familiar with the messiest, most vile types of environment, but regardless of your reasonings, he fully intends to go to this mission alone.

"Okay."

The moment he watched you calmly closed the door on your way out of the room, Sylus knew he fucked up.

You avoided him all afternoon, and it didn't take long for loneliness to strike him hard.

He hated the silence.

Knowing you're under the same roof and yet you're deliberately ignoring him... he'd much rather have you screaming at him.

Sylus remained at his working station to continue modifying a weapon that he'd recently purchased; however, his distracted state prevented him from making progress.

The face you made before walking away from him keeps haunting him.

The disappointment in your eyes made his chest unbearably tight.

He tried to push the uncomfortable feeling away, telling himself that his response to you is for the best, but it didn't work at all.

It was difficult to concentrate on anything else.

He wondered what you were up to.

What if you decide to leave because you can't stand to be near him?

Just imagining you rush out of the house while angry caused Sylus' hands to become unsteady and accidentally crossed some wires that weren't supposed to touch.

And so, the weapon sparked and caught on fire.

"...great."

He decided to move on to boxing, hoping to release some anger — not at you, but for his enemies that he'll be seeing for the upcoming mission. If they weren't so... filthy and gruesome, he wouldn't have to worry about keeping you away from them.

After two minutes of hitting the punching bag, Sylus' eyes started to repeatedly glance towards the entrance of the gym, checking to see if a certain someone would walk in for their weekly boxing lessons.

Your boxing gloves are in the usual place, untouched. He recalled the day when you two bought it while shopping: you were so excited about using it, you woke him up early just so you could start boxing while wearing them.

But now, you won't even step in the gym because he made you upset.

Suddenly, Sylus was no longer in the mood to box.

You didn't join him for dinner.

He wasn't surprised, though he felt another pang at his chest when he sat down on the empty dinning table.

He learned from Luke and Kieran that you had already eaten a little earlier while ranting to Mephisto, who was your only companion for supper.

The crow gave him a questioning look as he flew by and parched on the empty chair next to him, where you usually sit.

"I know. I'm working on it."

Sylus went to his bedroom, hoping that you don't run away and that you hear him out.

But when he opened the door, a cold breeze hit him along with a lonely feeling. The room is empty, and you're nowhere to be found.

He knew you're still somewhere in the house; otherwise, Mephisto would've told him already that you'd left. You staying means he's not totally screwed — not yet, at least.

The only other place he thought to check is the room where you used to sleep in, before your relationship became official.

And sure enough, after calming down his nervous, hitched breath, Sylus knocked on the door.

No response, but the room is unlocked.

He dared to take a peak inside and immediately softened at the sight of you sleeping on the bed. His feet acted before his mind and walked up towards your side.

He sat down on the mattress and his eyes slowly traced the ravishing features of your face that he missed, despite the argument being only just several hours ago.

He yearned to touch you, just for a second, to feel your warmth and softness. His right hand carefully reached towards your face, knuckles aiming to brush against your cheek.

But then, you opened your eyes.

Sylus froze for a moment, waiting for you to tell him to leave and stay away from him, but instead, you just blinked at him with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

"What are you doing?"

"...caught me redhanded." he chuckles. "I was looking at you. Because you wouldn't let me do it while you were awake. Sorry to disturb your peaceful sleep."

You watched his hand that was about to touch your face slowly retract, and you wanted to grab it and embrace it.

"...who said I was sleeping peacefully?"

Sylus looks at you with confusion.

"It's hard for me to sleep whenever we have arguments." you murmured, sitting up slowly so you can look at him properly. "I wanted to see you, but..."

You were sulking all afternoon.

You grew tired of arguing with him and thought you'd eventually find the right words to tell him later on, once you've calmed down.

"Me too." Sylus slowly reached for your hand, almost afraid that you'd pull away, though he relaxed once you intertwined your fingers with his. "Let me tell you why I'm against you accompanying me for this mission."

He told you about the shady people he'll be visiting. They are nasty criminals who have done unforgivable things to people, and everything about them is just disgusting — physically and figuratively.

As much as he wanted your company and assistance, Sylus doesn't want them setting their filthy eyes on you. He doesn't want them to know about your existence at all.

Mostly, he doesn't want to waste your time and energy on people like them. He knows you're strong enough to be by his side and help him take them down, just as you have done a few times before, but he'd much rather keep you away from their dirty hands.

"I understand now." You tightened your grip on his hand. "And still.... I want to go with you."

Though his brows furrowed as a silent reply, he stayed quiet and allowed you to fully let out everything you want to say.

"I appreciate your concern for me, truly. But ever since the twins told me about them, that they're dangerous and full of dirty tricks, I can't help but worry.

You're strong and you definitely don't need me, but still... I asked to go with you because I want to support you, just like how you sometimes help me out with my missions."

Sylus was met with the familiar look of persistence and determination in your eyes and realized he was never going to win this argument.

You've always been stubborn.

But that's just one of the reasons why he's so infauted with you.

You win.

"I should have known better than to try to leave you out of something like this." he sighs in defeat, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

You grinned at his tone. "It'll be fine. And fun — maybe. If not, then I'll suffer with you."

He clicked his tongue and poked your forehead. "Fine. But before we go, you have to prove to me that you're capable of fighting them."

"Hmm? Prove to you, how?"

"You'll have to join me in the boxing ring tomorrow, kitten."

You gasped and your eyes lit up. "My gloves! I've abandoned them! Let's go boxing right now!"

"...weren't you just about to sleep?"

"No way! I wanna hit something now! Come on!"

Sylus allowed himself to be dragged out of the room and brought back to the gym, where the boxing ring awaits.

Unlike earlier, the gym appears to be warmer and much more lively.

At last, Sylus can breathe easily.

zayne

Getting scolded by your lover was not how you were expecting your trip to the hospital to go.

He never raised his voice, but the coldness in his tone was what struck you in the chest.

He reprimanded you for being too reckless and careless at work, stating that you need to pay more attention to your surroundings and not throw yourself in danger at any chance you get.

Maybe you caught him in a bad mood, or maybe he was fed up with all the times that he has to see you with injuries. Either way, you didn't feel like being around him for a while.

Later that night, you fell asleep earlier than usual and missed a call from Zayne. You knew you probably should've called him back once you woke up in the morning, but the memory of him scolding you like a child made you throw your phone aside and momentarily avoid him.

Zayne is wide awake and his eyes are glued to the screen of his phone.

For once, he doesn't have work to keep him up late at night. Instead, you're the reason why he's unable to sleep.

You haven't been returning his texts and calls.

He knew you're upset because of what he did at the hospital. He shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You were already hurt. The last thing you needed was for him to give you a lecture over something you don't have much control over.

Zayne wanted to apologize to you.

He considered going to your apartment so he can properly give his sincere apology, but with the way you've been deflecting his attempts to communicate, he figured you wanted some space from him.

It's understandable that you'd feel that way, but still, Zayne can't ignore the aching in his chest. The other side of the bed feels colder than usual, and the silence of his house was uncomfortable.

You should've been next to him, resting your head on his chest while showing him funny memes and videos of cats after playing silly games on your phone, then you'd randomly come across an interesting article that would be your discussion until the two of you fall asleep.

This time, all he can do is keep checking his phone, just in case you decide to text or call him, and he'd answer in a heartbeat.

He wanted to hear your voice just so knows that everything is going to be okay, and that he doesn't need to worry about the possibility of losing you. Unfortunately, he wasn't granted that wish.

He eventually fell asleep with his phone on hand resting on the empty side of the bed.

Zayne was right.

You really are careless.

Showing up at the hospital twice in a week, just two days after your previous visit, is embarrassing at this point. You admit that your mind wasn't as awake and alert as it should've been, and so you've landed yourself another injury while fighting a Wanderer.

You did your best to hide from Zayne.

In fact, you tried going to a different hospital but Tara dropped you off here and fled instantly, so you have no choice but to go in with your slightly injured shoulder.

It just so happens that Doctor Greyson was the one that treated you, as he was the only one currently available.

You thought you'd be able to leave without seeing Zayne at all, but Greyson was unaware of your current situation so he informed him that he just finished fixing you up and you should be free to leave now.

Zayne just finished a long surgery, but once Greyson passed such valuable information to him, he rushed to your assigned room.

He caught you just as you were about to step out.

"Ah!" You put a hand over your racing heart. "You scared me!"

"Sorry." Zayne paused for a moment. "May I ask you to join me in my office?"

Your stomach shifted anxiously. "Sure..." The walk to the location was filled with nothing but awkward silence, which hurt to think about because it's Zayne.

That's the man whom you love more than anything else.

The last thing you want with him is an uncomfortable silence.

At the very least, you were able to gather your courage to own up to your mistakes.

Once he closed the door...

"I'm sorry!"

Zayne was caught off-guard.

"What?"

"You're right. I've been careless lately." Your shoulders sagged as you accepted defeat. "Like my injury today could've been avoided if only I was a little more cautious. I really do need to work on it better. I'm sorry for ignoring your texts and calls. I know you're just looking out for me."

Zayne let out a breath of relief.

He failed to stop himself from pulling you into his arms, so tight that you let out a gasp, though you didn't complain so he didn't release you just yet.

He desperately needed to hold you.

He was afraid that you might not want to see him anymore because of the way he had spoken to you, but it seems he'd gotten a chance to correct himself.

"I'm sorry for talking to you so coldy." He backed away just a small distance so he could look you in the eyes, though his hands remained locked on your elbows. "There are much better ways to express my concerns for you. I won't make the same mistake again. But also..."

He took your left hand and kissed the back of it. "Please don't ever try to hide your injuries from me whenever you do get hurt."

"Ah...." you wondered how he found out you were trying to hide from him today. "Sorry. I won't."

Zayne smiled and kissed your forehead.

"I'll accept your apology, on one condition...."

"What?"

"You have to spend the night and the whole weekend with me now. To make up for the times when you weren't by my side."

caleb

"I did it to protect you."

"And now, the fleet has all the access to the information that I was supposed to get. But yes. I was so fortunate that The Colonel came to my rescue. Thanks."

Caleb sighs as you shut the door and locked yourself in your own room of his house in Safehaven.

It's true that he interfered with your mission and you failed to do what you were sent for, but the man you were interrogating was equipped with a weapon that could've left you permamently injured.

What was he supposed to do?

He wasn't going to just watch and wait for you to get hurt.

The man just happened to be a common enemy of the fleet and the hunters association, and it seems that you've crossed paths for a race on whoever could capture him first.

While you technically reached him first, Caleb was the one that took him away and had him in captive with the fleet.

He figured he could just find that man and get the information you need, though it seems your mission was time sensitive and you were supposed to report to the association by tonight.

While he feels bad about you failing to accomplish your mission, he doesn't regret barging in to stop the enemy from hurting you.

His priority has always been you and it will always be you.

Everything that he's ever done is to protect you, even if you're against it. That's why this isn't the first time you've fought.

Ever since you were younger, you'd sometimes get mad at him for doing something that was intended to keep you out of harm's way.

It's nothing new.

Still, no matter how many times it happens, Caleb will always hate the feeling of you being upset with him.

He especially cannot stand it when you pretend he doesn't exist. He'd rather you hit him as hard as you can than act as if you don't see him. Otherwise, what other purpose does he have, if not to provide for you and be by your side?

Caleb made dinner for two, but he's the only one in the dinning room, sitting across an empty chair. It's dead silent aside from the noise of the flying vehicles roaming around outside his house.

He already put food in your plate and filled you a glass of juice, just in case you give in to his attempt to lure you out with the delicious smell of tonight's meal.

Caleb took his time eating. He had sent you texts, with lots of stickers, telling you that dinner is ready and that you can come out of your room now, though not a single message had gotten a reply.

His eyes would constantly dart to your closed door, hoping that it would open and you'd stubbornly come out with a pout on your face, just like what you always do ever since you were little.

He wasn't so lucky tonight.

But that doesn't mean he'll let you starve. You can be mad at him, but at the very least, be angry with a full stomach.

Caleb picked up your plate and drink and set it down on the floor right outside your room.

"Pip-squeak." He knocked a couple of times. "It's fine if you don't want to see me. You don't have to forgive me, but please eat something before you sleep. I'll leave the food outside the door."

He paused for a moment, as an apology almost slipped out of his tongue, though he wants to do it properly when you're face-to-face, so he will wait for a better time.

"Goodnight."

Afterwards, Caleb took a long bath before going to bed. You two had plans to watch movies tonight after your mission, but that was definitely not going to happen now. He had no idea things would end like how it did, and now he's staring at a wall feeling empty.

Around midnight, you quietly stepped out of your room. You brought the dirty, empty dishes back in the kitchen so you can wash them and return them in the storage.

Five steps in the dark kitchen and you almost drop the fragile items on your hands.

There's something lurking in the shadows.

"Ah!"

Your right hand swung up to hit the figure that started to walk towards you, ready to hit them with the plate.

The object was caught easily and snatched right out off your fingers. The light switch clicked and soon your eyes had been greeted by bright white light.

And you learned that the figure that had been bathing in darkness is none other than Caleb, who looked just as freaked out as you.

"Why are you still awake?!" you screeched, putting a hand over your pounding heart. "Why are you out here just standing in the dark like some demon?!"

"I wasn't standing in darkness. I was sitting." he huffs, putting the plate on the counter table. "And I should be asking you the same thing, Pip-squeak. Why are you awake?!"

His eyes suddenly widened and his shoulders stiffened.

"You're...not gonna leave, are you?"

He looked like a sad, kicked puppy that made you feel like a super villain.

"No, I'm not leaving." you replied softly, taking a step closer to him after setting down the empty glass of juice on the counter table. "I was just going to wash these... dinner was delicious.... by the way..."

Caleb let out a sigh of relief before a smile came to his face. "I'm glad you liked it. If you still have room in your stomach, wanna go for dessert? I still have some of the ice cream that you bought last time."

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the sweet dessert. "Yes!"

As the two of you enjoyed the ice cream, Caleb took the opportunity to talk about what happened.

"I'll admit that I don't regret interferring with your work to save you from getting hurt." he started slowly, watching you just in case your mood flips again. "But I am sorry for getting you in trouble."

You shook your head. "I'm over it now, but... you have to remember that I'm also capable of dealing with dangerous guys. I may get hurt, but it's part of my job. You don't have to jump out and save me every time, even though I appreciate it and you, every time."

Caleb sighs, recalling you repeating similar words to him before.

He really does jump out of nowhere to save you a lot — in fact, anytime he can, he does it.

"You're right. I know you've gotten strong, Pip-squeak." he grinned, patting your head. "I'll be sure to remember it. But also, you have to remember... worrying about you is part of my job. That'll never change, even if you become the greatest superhero of the deepspace."

"Heh."

You can't help but laugh because it's true.

That is just how Caleb is.

And it's one of the things that you love about him, despite all the times he pissed you off by being over protective.

"If I become the greatest superhero of Deepspace, will you bring me more ice cream?"

Caleb laughs at your empty bowl. "All you have to do is ask and I shall obey, Pip-squeak."

Once drowsiness finally hit you, you returned to bed and this time, Caleb made sure to cling to you the entire time.

rafayel

You'd been extremely busy for almost two weeks because of a big, intricate mission. It left you very little time to rest, and absolutely no time to go out with your lover.

But once you finally got some freedom, the first thing you did was give him a call, asking him out for lunch.

"It's okay, Miss Bodyguard. You don't have to see me if you don't want to. I know you've been really busy to make any time for me."

Maybe he was just joking or being dramatic as usual, but something about his tone rubbed you the wrong way.

"Okay then. Bye."

The moment the call ended, Rafayel wanted to throw his phone at the wall.

Why did he say that?

He'll admit that he has been sulking, disappointed that he hasn't seen you for days; however, he knows it's not your fault. You're just doing your job, after all.

His mood hasn't been the best lately, and he ended up saying the wrong thing to you. Now, he scared you away from him even more.

He wanted to see you and apologize, but you sounded quite mad and he's certain you don't want to see him at the moment, so it's probably best to leave you alone for now.

Thomas entered the studio and almost tripped over a paintbrush on the floor. The place is even messier than before.

He found Rafayel lying on the couch, wide wake and staring at the ceiling.

"Your studio's getting way too messy. Maybe you should clean up a little."

"It's fine. No one's going to come over anyways."

Thomas was quick to notice his dispirited tone. Rafayel already seemed lonely last week, but this time his mood seems worse.

Another proof of that is the lack of progress on the paintings.

"You haven't started anything new yet?"

"I haven't had any inspiration."

The one hint that Thomas got about what was bringing Rafayel down is the yellow bird plushie right next to him, who he may or may not have been talking to.

"So, it's your Miss Hunter, isn't it?"

It's happened a couple of times before. You two have gotten into arguments before and it usually ends in the same way, with Rafayel sulking like this. This time, it might've lasted longer than usual.

"I don't know what happened, but I suggest seeing her and talking it out."

"I know that. But if she doesn't want to see me.... what if she starts screaming and hitting me when I'm there?"

Or worse, you tell him you hate him.

His stomach tightened with discomfort just by thinking about it.

Thomas chuckles lightly. "So what? You can take it, can't you? Then again, she is a hunter.... and she could kill you...."

Rafayel frowned and froze for a moment.

Then, he suddenly rolls over and drops to the floor before jumping to his feet. "Thomas, you're a genius!" he exclaims, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. "I don't care if she stabs me with her sword! I'd survive. but... if I go on another day withour seeing her, I might actually die for real..."

"Hh — sure, I guess..."

"I'm gonna go see her now!"

Thomas watched as he started to scramble and sprint out of the room. "Wait, you should clean up first before — "

"Ow! Who put this paint brush here?!"

You opened the door and Rafayel immediately shields his face with his hands, as if to protect himself from you.

"....I don't know what's going on but I'm a little offended."

You wanted to laugh but you reminded yourself that you're still mad at him.

Or at least, you were.

The moment Rafayel showed up at your doorstep, all you want to do is hug him.

"If you're gonna stab me, do it quickly but at least wait until I say sorry first so it doesn't sound like I'm using my last, dying breath to make it up to you. I mean, I would do that too if I must, but I'd prefer if I don't sound pathetic and gross."

"...what?"

Rafayel pulled himself together and held both of your hands.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I promise I didn't mean it at all. I just missed you a lot and... I.... I might've been...a little grumpy because of it... but I still shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I'm really sorry."

You softened and held his hands tighter. "I'm sorry too, for snapping so fast and running away. I also wasn't in the best mood."

Rafayel didn't waste another second before pulling you into his arms.

"Let's not do that again. It's stupid and silly and boring."

"Agreed."

He buried his face against your neck and held you tighter for a little longer while your fingers brush his hair from the back.

Rafayel took a moment to feel your warmth.

You're here, right in front of him, after days that felt like months.

Letting you go will be extremely difficult.

"Miss Bodyguard...."

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna come to my house? Reddie misses you...

"Just Reddie?"

"...well, I missed you way more, but you can spare him five minutes of attention. But that's it. The rest of your time is mine."

xavier

For your latest mission, Jenna paired you up with a new hunter that just joined your team. She said she wanted him to learn from you, so he became your temporary partner.

Xavier wasn't quite happy with the captain's decision.

Jenna never said he couldn't join you, right? The new guy can keep following you, but that doesn't mean he has to be alone with you.

Fast forward to the end of the mission, Xavier had been so focused on making sure the new guy keeps a fair distance from you, and the newbie almost got hurt.

You took responsibility and jumped in at the very last moment to save him, leaving you with a minor scratch on your left arm. Nonetheless, the mission was a success.

You confronted Xavier afterwards. You didn't care at all about the scratch, but you were more concerned with him letting his jealousy get in the way of the mission.

Captain Jenna scolded him about not following orders. Although she never specified that he couldn't join you, he still messed with the plan that the team discussed early on. Luckily, he's not deeply in trouble: he'd only been warned not to do it again.

You mostly repeated what Jenna said, but you also told Xavier that he shouldn't have gone out of his way to physically keep your temporary partner away from you, and that you wished he trusted you a little more, especially in a professional environment.

Xavier was unable to come up with a response and like always, whenever he's jealous, dark clouds appeared all around him as he sulks.

You didn't feel like cradling him at the moment, mostly because you felt tired from the mission, and you needed to cool your ahead after all that happened.

You went straight to your apartment after work. Soon after taking a shower, you landed on your bed and welcomed a nap.

Xavier anxiously paces back and forth in his apartment.

He knows you're sleeping because of the fitness watch app that you both use. He decided that he'll wait until you wake up before apologizing, so at the mean time, he's practicing in his head what he'll be saying to you.

You two rarely have arguments because he'd learned to be more straightforward with his thoughts and feelings, but when jealousy comes into play, he still struggles to contain himself. He's working on it, but he's having quite a slow progress.

He'll admit that he might have gone a little overboard today, and he hated that his actions led to you getting hurt, even if it's just a scratch. If only he hadn't gotten in the way.

"...I'm going now."

Unable to wait any longer, Xavier teleports out of his apartment and appears on your balcony — it's become a habit of his.

He found you sleeping on the couch of your living room.

Xavier walked up to you quietly and covered your body with the throw bunched up by your feet. He knelt down on the carpeted floor and admired your features.

He knew he shouldn't get jealous so easily, but how could he not?

He's so deeply in love with you, he can't help but act irrationally sometimes.

But even more, he despises whenever you're upset with him and because of him, so he knows he can't keep behaving drastically all the time whenever another person who shows an ounce of admiration for you comes around.

"You smell like burnt cookies."

Xavier snapped out of his thoughts only to realize that you had woken up.

He took a whiff of his white hoodie and confirmed your observation. "I tried to make you some cookies to make up for earlier but I got distracted and forgot about them...."

And by distracted, he means pacing back and forth across the kitchen while writing his apology speech in his head.

"Pfftt.."

Xavier scratched the back of his head while you laughed loudly. His eyes lit up at the sight of your joy on your face.

"I'm sorry about your cookies." he sighs. "And I'm sorry for acting the way I did earlier. I promise I'll... try not to get jealous..."

You laughed again, this time softer as you leaned forward to brush his hair with your fingers. "The truth is, I don't mind that you get jealous sometimes. Even I get jealous too."

"Really?"

"Really."

He never notices you secretly being bitter whenever someone is clearly attracted to him, though you never act out on your jealousy because he always reassures you that he only has eyes for you.

"It's normal to get jealous." you told him. "But next time.... just make sure not to step out of line and get yourself or anyone innocent in trouble."

Xavier nodded and kissed the palm of your hand that had been combing his hair. "I promise I'll be more responsible from now on."

You smiled and pecked his nose.

"The smell of cookies really got me. Wanna try again? I'll help you this time."

"I'd like that. But first...." he rested his face onto your lap. "Can we just stay like this for a little while? I think I need to recharge."

Your hand returns to combing his soft hair. "Of course."

[ameili]

Literally Xavier and mc

pup star and kitty

[berrryparfait]

sex pollen ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: zayne, xavier, sylus, caleb, rafayel x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: spring is here, and the "thorny" flower is in season. beware, unsuspecting farm visitor, lest you inhale the evil flower's pollen and fall victim to its whims... 「this urge... i can't resist it anymore—!」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, literal sex pollen; "spontaneous and urgent need to have sex", piv, creampie, intense orgasms, dubcon, characters are not dating nor have they ever f*cked before (frenemies)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: pelican town (from the stardew valley soundtrack)

✧ a/n: was the stardew valley soundtrack too unhinged or... anywaysss sex pollen is one of my all-time favorite tropes ever so here's my take on it <3

Sure, he might not be your favorite person in the world, but just for today, you're content with being acquaintances. For what it’s worth, if there’s anything worse than spending a whole day with your begrudging frenemy, it’s losing.

The annual Spring Corn-Picking Festival has begun, and you’ve been paired up with him. Can you put your differences aside and put your skills to the test? Or is there something else—something sinister—lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike?

The “thorny” flower is in bloom, and no one is safe…

“Follow my lead if you want to win. I did my research, so I know where all the best spots are.” He parts the thick maize, making way for the both of you to trudge through the field. You roll your eyes at his predictable arrogance. “Please. I used to live on a farm. I know my way around—” You trip on a small rock and stumble into his back. He barely even glances at you. “Be quiet if you don’t want to sabotage our mission.” Rude. “Hey, there’s some up there.” You both dart towards the bunch of ripe corn a few feet away, no longer weary and complacent. Placing his basket on the ground, he begins to expertly pluck the corn from their stalks, intense concentration written all over his face.

All of a sudden, a strange smell hijacks your nostrils. “Do you smell that?” He grimaces and looks around, apparently sensing it too. It’s…strange. Foreign. Not entirely unpleasant. The flesh between your legs throbs. Why do I feel…? Your eyes lock with Zayne’s, then travel down to his groin. He’s hard. It takes him two seconds to close the distance between you. “Zayne, what’s going on—” He yanks your overalls down and grasps at your breasts, the expression on his reddened face absolutely feral. “I-I don’t know—” he stammers, still smearing his hands all over your plump chest. “But I can’t stop…” He pulls your panties down in one fell swoop to find you already dripping wet. His pupils dilate at the sight, and his hands automatically move to undo his belt. It doesn’t take long for him to free his erection, which is so large by now you almost feel bad for him. “Wait, we’re in a corn field—” Your words are abruptly cut off by him spinning you around and plunging his cock between your folds, and you have to cling to the sturdy stalks to prevent yourself from falling over. A hand goes over your mouth to conceal your surprised moans. He has you bent over in front of him, back arching against his dick as he thrusts into you and curses under his breath. I don’t like you! You don’t like me! Why does this feel so good?! “Fuck— I can’t stop—” His groans are strangled and pained, his hips moving so fast the field around you blurs into a mess of pale green and yellow. Expletives escape his lips as he slams into you so hard you both come undone, his hot, thick cum filling you up and dripping down your legs as you spasm and shake under his grip. You’re panting. He looks like he can’t even breathe. “What the fuck was that, Zayne?!” you scream at him, flustered and so utterly confused. “It’s that damn flower… Fuck. I’m sorry.” You pull your overalls back up and shake your head, unsure how to feel about all of this. “Let me make it up to you— Dinner. Tonight.” Tiny butterflies drift into the field.

“Would you quit micromanaging?” He glares at you before turning back to the corn, both hands wrapped around its plush kernels. “I’m just saying, twisting it out might be faster.” Always pouting, always bickering. It’s the only thing you two ever do. You’ve never denied that it bothers you, the way he acts as if you’re beneath him. “If you’re so confident, you do it.” You take the bait and push past him, sandwiching yourself between him and the stubborn stalk of corn. A smug grin plays at his lips when you fail to pull—no, twist—it out, his arms crossed over his chest.

Xavier sneezes. He brushes it off as a one-time thing at first, but then he sneezes again. Hay fever? he thinks to himself. Suddenly, the image of you working your hands around the cob of corn—squeezing and pulling at its base—is too much for him to bear. He’s imagining his dick in its place. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re getting wet. You feel the abrupt, inexplicable need to grind against something. Anything. All at once, you push Xavier to the ground and sit down on top of him. “Do you feel that?” you whisper between gasps, the pool of need between your legs growing by the second. He nods breathlessly, uncertain, but wanting all the same. Your hips involuntarily roll against his, and you both suppress a moan. The next thing you know, you’re grinding against his rock-hard cock and relishing the sounds of his tortured groans. “I’m—so horny—right now—” His voice is fried, needy. You lift the skirt of your dress and pull your panties to the side, clearly sopping wet. His jeans are unzipped. In what seems like an unimaginable moment, you’re bouncing on his dick and screaming out in pleasure. Why does he…feel so good… Your thoughts are a mess, part confusion and part unbridled lust. The way he rubs against your walls, jerks upwards to meet your thrusts, whimpers like a man starved—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You roll your hips at just the right angle, and he gets impossibly bigger before shooting warm spurts of cum into your cervix, his thighs clenching underneath yours as the most intense orgasms both of you have ever had crash over your joint bodies. You roll over to lie down beside him, still in shock. “W-What was that?!” He turns to look at you and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—ironic, considering your entire head’s a complete mess. “I didn’t know you had that in you. You didn’t even kiss me.”

“Perhaps we’d get there more quickly if you stopped whining,” he jabs, already five feet ahead of you. His demeanor remains cool and composed, yet frustration simmers beneath the surface, visible only to those who know the enigma of a man well enough. Unfortunately, “those” includes you. “I just can’t believe I’m stuck here with you. Of all people.” Without looking back, he replies, “Are you sure this isn’t your desire for me speaking? Because judging by the way you were eyeing me just now…” You huff at his ridiculous statement. “Ha! You wish. Sleeping with you is the last thing I’d ever want, so keep dreaming, buckaroo.”

You don’t hear his reply. A sharp, almost sweet scent attacks your senses, conquering your mind almost instantly. You sway amongst the stalks of grass, trying to make sense of the sudden urge you’re feeling—the urge to bury Sylus’ dick between your legs. I hate him I hate him I hate him— Your hands reach out to grab him before you can stop them, and he spins around abruptly to gently push you away. “Having a change of mind?” He means the question as a joke, but the sound of his gravelly, seductive voice only intensifies the throbbing in your cunt. “Shut up and fuck me,” you spit, fully convinced you’ve gone insane. But he doesn’t object. The cocky grin vanishes from his face as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, apparently devoted to the task. His underwear is still on by the time he’s lying on top of you, pupils dilated and erection rock solid. Overcome, he dry-humps your clit for a whole minute, the pressure so rewarding that he can’t bring himself to remove his boxers. “Fuck, baby— What are you doing to me?” He hisses when you yank them down yourself, eager to bury his cock deep inside you. No time is wasted. In a single thrust of his hips, he’s plunging all the way into you, so big you cry out in delicious pain. Your hips move in tandem with his, mud covering your back and seeping into your hair—but you couldn’t care less. His length is pumping in and out of you so hard your eyes roll to the back of your head, and distantly you wonder how long you’ve secretly needed—wanted—this. He grunts with each jerk, wet squelches filling the air as the strawberry-picking competition is forgotten, sweet release the only thing on his mind. A stutter—a falter, and he erupts, his thick seed coating your walls and seeping out of your pussy. You both fall silent as the pleasure consumes your bodies, so good your eyes squeeze shut and your throat goes completely dry. “I’m…a mess…” you mutter between pants, pushing him off of you. “Who wants to sleep with who now?” He shoves his pants back on and—blushes?! “It must’ve been that flower. Though… It’s worth mentioning that I’m immune.”

“Alright, let’s hurry up and get this over with.” He doesn’t seem thrilled to be wading through a cornfield with the likes of you, one of his childhood tormentors. Well, he’d tormented you back, of course—middle school turf wars were no joke. You both grew up and learned to tame your reactions a little, but some things never change. The fact that you’re still stuck in the same small town with him, for instance. “After all these years, Caleb is still a jackass,” you quip, already making your way towards a ripe bunch of corn. “You’re just jealous I never dated you.”

The wind blows, and you scrunch your nose at the scent it carries. “Shh— Do you smell that?” His eyes go wide as realization hits, and he rushes to cover your nose and mouth with his hands. “It’s that devil flower that spews aphrodisiacal pollen. Don’t. Breathe.” His expression is grim as he clamps his mouth shut, but he’s already starting to squirm. A small pit of arousal emerges in your core, but he’s clearly having a harder time than you are, the outline of his hard cock visible through his trousers. “Caleb…?” you ask tentatively as his hands slide away from your face, flexing indecisively before reaching towards you. “Caleb, wait a second—” He’s on his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down. Oh my god, this can’t be happening— You gasp as his tongue glides against your clit, the simple movement leaving you wanting more. Your hips grind against his face as you moan his name, lost in the lovely vibrations of his own groans of pleasure. “Get on the ground.” His tone leaves little room for debate. You lie flat on the soil, back towards the sky, and turn to look at him over your shoulder. His dick is out, precum coating the tip as it beelines straight for your inviting cunt. Pure bliss overcomes your system when he first glides in, your walls instantly slickening in response. He pounds into you from behind, his whimpers mingling with yours as you’re swept away by the feeling of finally having Caleb inside you. It’s surreal—ten years ago you would’ve laughed at the thought. Now your mouth hangs open for different reasons. “Faster, Caleb—” you squeak, desperate to reach your climax. He drives into you, clenching hard before he drenches your pussy, a steady stream of cum dripping down onto the soil below. “Holy fuck… I’m sorry…” he whispers, getting up to put his pants back on. An unexpected wave of laughter hits as you recover from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body sated and…comfortable. “Don’t you dare blame this on the pollen.” He sighs wearily and smiles. “I’m not.”

“If we don’t win, I’m blaming it on you.” Great. This detour was all your fault. You can’t believe this guy. First, he makes no effort to help with navigation. Next, he decides that if anything goes wrong, you’re to blame? Sweet crackers, he’s the most insufferable fool you’ve ever met. Sure, he’s charming—the old ladies back at the farm couldn’t have made it clearer—but you don’t get to have a competitive streak when you’re not the one doing the streaking. Seriously, he’s slow as hell. “Stop talking and walk.”

“There’s something in the air,” he remarks, squinting. It’s the first time he’s paid attention to anything today, so you hear him out and begin sniffing your surroundings. You detect nothing and call him a big baby, resuming your search for corn. “I’m being serious! I swear it’s doing something to me…” He turns away then, so hastily your suspicions are raised. “J-Just gimme a sec!” he calls over his shoulder, “Lemme take care of something real quick—” You turn back around, tired of his antics, but a barely concealed groan stops you dead in your tracks. He’s jerking off in broad daylight, his head thrown back in relief. “Rafayel, what the f—” You feel it then, the throbbing ache in your pussy, and suddenly his presence no longer annoys you. You inch towards him, eyeing his hard cock as he pumps it with his fist. At the sight of you staring up at him with a strange, unabashed lust, his thighs clench and he moans your name, the sound of it on his lips sending waves of arousal down to your core. You push him down by the shoulders so he’s sitting upright on the ground, dick so hard it looks miserable. “Bounce on it,” he orders. In the span of two seconds, your panties are pushed to the side and your cunt is enveloping his cock. You’re so full, so dirty with him between your legs—Does it feel better to fuck someone you pretend to hate? His thumbs bruise your hips as you keep your pace, bouncing on his lap like your life depends on it, his tip crushing against your cervix the only thing on your mind. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he breathes before pumping his fresh cum into your pussy, your combined cries of pleasure so loud a neighboring flock of birds takes flight. Defeated, you lean against him in his lap, still shaking with desire. His hand goes up to rest on your head, his touch surprisingly tender. “I’ve been waiting all year for that.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[starsforxavi]

just a little competition ⁘ xavier

·······•✦ description: The parameters are simple: — No touching in erogenous zones. — No loud noises (moans, grunts, etc.) — The loser is the first one to give in.

If Xavier wins, you must put away all your Lumiere merch, but if you win, Xavier has to wear your Lumiere outfit during sex.

Xavier is determined not to lose.

·······•✦ pairing: xavier x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 6.1k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Xavier Myth, Teasing, Competition, Can't Give In, Xavier is holding back, Massage, Making Out, Lingerie, Dirty Talk, Trying to get the other to break, Cosplay, Xavier in a Lumiere cosplay, Jealousy, Cunnilingus, Orgasm Edging, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Marking, Clothed Sex, The Lumiere outfit stays ON, Creampie, Second Round?

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

“Are you sure you want to play, princess?” Xavier’s eyebrow is raised, and his chin is resting on his palm as he stares at you with wide, unblinking eyes. “You know that you can never resist my touch…” 

“I think I can resist just fine.” The calmness with which he speaks ignites a fire within you, and you’re determined to finally see the crack in his armor. “It’s you that I’m worried about.” 

His soft giggle wraps around you. It’s not taunting, but rather teasing, knowing that the feeling is mutual as you both seek to see the other give in and surrender control. One way or the other, it would be a hard match, but the stakes were high, and neither of you wanted to lose.

“Well, with a reward so great,” his voice borders on amused, “I know I have to win.” 

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. “Then, should we start the game?” You ask, tilting your head in question. 

“Sure, we can start.” He shrugs. 

Immediately, you turn around, looking over your shoulder. “I just have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

Before he can say anything, you leave him alone in the kitchen, his eyes following your movements. Long strides bring you to the bathroom, where you quickly change into your first weapon of the game. The sheer fabric sits pretty on your torso, showing off the lace bra and panties that accentuate your body. 

It’s just a nightgown; you’re ready to reason as you step out into the hall, seeing the peek of his bicep on the armrest of the couch. His fingers tap against the fabric, a slow rhythm as if he were anticipating what you had in store for him. 

“Oh, a surprise?” He seems genuinely taken aback, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as you stride toward him. It isn’t until you’re standing right in front of him, staring down at his big blue eyes, that you feel his hands graze the outside of your thighs. 

Just one touch is electrifying, but you’re not one to give in easily. 

His palms dance from the sides of your knees to just under the skirt of your nightgown. “Hm,” he hums, his eyes stuck on your body. “Is this all for me, princess?” 

“Yep.” You pop the ‘p.’ “All for you, baby.” 

Bending down, you notice the way his gaze moves to your cleavage, and your hands cup his cheeks. “I’m clothed, aren’t I?” After your words, you kiss his forehead, then his cheek. Cupping the back of his neck, you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his jaw. 

“Princess…” There is already strain in his voice, his fingers gripping at your thighs as if you were his lifeline. Kneading at the flesh, he allows you to kiss along his neck because he has to… He’s not losing. “You’re going to have to try harder.” He’s so relaxed despite the hitch in his breath as you suck a mark into the pale skin of his shoulder.

He feels the smile on your lips. The way your fingers card through his hair, holding him still as if he could move away, already has him aching in his pants. But he’s not giving in that easily. 

“I’ll try harder.” Standing up, you gesture to the couch. “Lie down on your chest.” 

Xavier sighs, his normally so nonchalant attitude giving way to a red flush on his cheeks and neck. The shirt he’s wearing isn’t particularly tight, so as he obeys your request, you immediately slip your hands under the fabric, your fingers massaging the tight muscles of his back. 

“Ah –” he swallows the groan, knowing that even the slightest increase in noise would cause him to lose the game. For a brief moment, he contemplates just saying game be damned, but then he thinks about him… His alter ego, whom you just seem to be so infatuated with. He couldn’t let Lumiere win. 

“What was that?” You grin, your thumbs digging into his lower back, right where his most sensitive spots are. Besides his cock and neck, his back seems to be a trigger for him that always gets him to be putty under your fingertips. 

“Nothing at – all.” His sentence is cut up, the lump in his throat growing as you straddle his thighs. 

Intense pleasure follows every one of your movements, and Xavier buries his face in the cushion of the couch. If he can just muffle his noises, force his breathing to a bare minimum, he can last. 

But you notice, your lips curling into a smirk as you tug his head up by his hair. Your lips brush against his earlobe. “Come on, baby.” Your teeth nip at his skin, eliciting a gasp from your boyfriend. “I wanna hear you. Hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“No.” He says simply, denying himself the outright pleasure of telling you how amazing your hands feel on his back, your fingers through his hair. He’s denying himself the simple admission of how much more he needs, giving in to your little game and losing. 

No. Not going to happen.

“I won’t tell you how much of a good girl you are for me.” Your heart begins to race, and just like you know how to get him to fold, he knows exactly the same. With your hand moving down his neck, tracing the curve of his spine, he continues. “Or how much I wish I were turned around so you could grind onto my lap.” 

Deep red colors your cheeks, and you sit up, your hands still gripping his waist. Your thumbs slowly stroke his skin, as if contemplating what to do next. No matter what, though, you’re determined to watch him lose. The realization in his face when he slips up, his eyes wide and lips parted. You crave it, and you’ll do whatever it takes. 

“Then I won’t tell you how I touched myself last night.” His whole body goes rigid, and he takes slow breaths to calm down. You’re lying, but he was gone on a mission last night, so he has no way of knowing. “How I imagined your hands on me as I buried two fingers in my pussy.” 

“I’m sure my fingers weren’t enough, were they?” He says it so casually, like you aren’t just talking about you fucking yourself on your fingers. “I bet you whined so loud for my cock, because nothing can compare.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine, but you swallow and shake it off. It’s just some words, you think. Yet, even thinking about having to get yourself off without him raises your body temperature just a bit. 

“I actually think I should get a dildo for when you’re away.” As you talk, your hands rub along his back, finding the tense muscles and working them out. Small sighs leave him, but he makes sure to zip up when he feels a wanton grunt or groan of defeat ready to leave his parted lips. “I’ll even name it Lumiere.” 

Xavier pauses, his fists clenching just enough for you to notice. Slowly, very slowly, you’re chipping away at his resolve, but it would take more to finally see him crack under the weight of your challenges. 

He’s quick. Lightning fast when he shifts out of your grip, sitting up on the couch with cheeks a deep red and eyebrows furrowed. You think, for a very brief moment, that he’s going to give in that easily, but it’s replaced by a quiet yelp when he reaches over, hands planting on your waist, and brings you to sit in his lap. 

You’re careful not to sit directly on him, because that would mean breaking the rules, but your ass rests right on his thighs. They tense under your weight, and you chew on your bottom lip at the slight friction of your panties on your growing arousal. 

“Careful, Xavier…” You coo, smirking at him. “That area is off limits.” 

“Oh, I know.” His large hands cup your hips, grip tight and nearly bruising as he takes in the full view of your outfit. He was too preoccupied with the rules, making sure he definitely didn’t break them and lose to that man… “Just want to look at you when you talk about him again.” 

“Lumiere?” Your voice is saccharine sweet, taunting him into a reaction, yet he remains as still as a statue. “I think that’s a much more moanable name than Xavier.” 

Your hip bones are under assault by his thumbs, pressing into them in a way that bubbles a whimper in your throat. He’s silent, letting your statement sink in before putting on the facade of indifference. 

“I think you sound really pretty when you moan my name.” It’s almost as if a robot is saying it, almost devoid of emotion. But you know him too well. His sentence is cut up by a gulp, nearly imperceptible if your hands weren’t sitting on his biceps and you weren’t so in tune with his reactions. “Especially with your face down in the pillow... All muffled but still loud enough for the neighbors to know who’s making you cum so hard.” 

The way he says it brings back memories, and you can almost feel his hand kneading the flesh of your ass as his pelvis slapped against the backs of your thighs. The sheets were irreparably ruined, with spit, tears and cum staining nearly every inch. That night was electric, and you almost find yourself leaning closer to connect your lips. 

But you’re not giving in. No. You are going to see him cave. If anything, you determined just to see him lose. Yes, winning would be great. But more than anything, you want to see him snap. 

“I disagree.” Your hands move up and down his arms, feeling the way his muscles flex under your digits. He’s so hot, you think. Everything about him is attractive, but it’s the quiet confidence that is seemingly affected by anything you say to him that litters your skin with goosebumps. “I’m going to moan Lumiere’s name when you lose.” 

His eyebrows set in a hard line, lips curling into a frown. Even the thought makes his chest tighten, eyes hardening just enough that you shiver slightly. There’s a depth in his gaze that tells you he’s almost there, fighting between wanting to show you how much better he is than Lumiere and the knowledge that if he wins, all of your godforsaken merch goes away from his sight. 

Out of sight, out of mind…

His Adam’s apple bobs, and he shakes his head. “I’m not going to lose, princess.” The tone of his voice lowers. One of his hands traces your spine over the sheer nightgown. “You don’t know how sexy you are right now.” 

A new approach. Interesting, but you’re confident you can –

“Even in my dreams, I think about fucking you dumb.” It’s said as a whisper, and you freeze in his lap, your grip dropping to the sides of his torso. He leans forward, just enough so you can feel the breeze of his breath as he keeps going. “Watching you drool on the sheets, and only hearing my name from those pretty lips.” 

His eyes lock onto your lips, and heat rises. The tension between you is pulled taut, threatening to snap. But almost as soon as he stops talking, you cup his jaw. With an aura of dominance, you tilt his head up, your thumb ghosting over his Adam’s apple.

“I think next time we fuck,” your lewd words shoot straight to his cock, the deep dark color of your eyes piercing right through him as his cheeks burn. “We should film it.” 

Xavier’s heart nearly stops, and you see the wheels turning in his head. Lumiere, Lumiere, Lumiere… He repeats over and over, his jealousy still iron clad in not giving in, but he sees the soft color of your lips, knowing that all he has to do is close the short distance.

“Then,” you continue, “we can watch it back together, and I can jerk you off while you watch me get filled to the brim with your cum.” A soft brush of your nose against his, your fingers gripping onto his shoulders. “I know how much you love filling me up, right?” 

He lets out a huff of breath, closing his eyes as you scratch the nape of his neck, your grip switching to his hair. Something about the mental image, the feeling of your hands on him, the warmth of your skin through the sheer fabric. 

Xavier snaps. 

His lips are crashing onto yours before you can figure out what happened. Puzzle pieces finally finding their right match, the way he can tilt his head and find the perfect angle to engulf your entire being with him. 

He tugs you closer, your hips sitting right on top of his, and you feel his hard bulge underneath you. Throbbing and needy, he plants his palms on your bare skin under your nightgown, his deep breaths being swallowed by your mouth when he traces your bottom lip with his tongue. 

Of course, you let him in, but not before pulling back with a smirk. 

“I – win.” You pant, unable to get the words out before he holds onto the nape of your neck, bringing you back to him. 

“F – uck,” is all he can manage, the overwhelming ache in his chest knowing he lost, he let himself get out of control, is still there, but when he hears your gentle whimpers and feels your touch surrounding him, he couldn’t care less. 

Your chuckle is swallowed by him, his tongue tracing the edge of your teeth. Every atom of your body shudders when he growls, your hair threaded through his digits in an attempt to just get you to stay still. 

Hands cup his jaw, your heart racing in elation, but also a deep-seated need at seeing him so desperate for you. So much so that he gave up the victory just to kiss you. But he’s always been like that. He just didn’t show it. Deep down, he craved you with every fiber of his being, but his usual gentle and calming nature overrode any feral actions on his end.

All his thoughts stop as you kiss him with even more fervor. Like it’s taking everything in you just to pull away with a gasp, too caught up in each other to even worry about the breath leaving your lungs in short gasps. 

With eyes locked, you feel the desire flooding in him, his fingers thread through your hair, slender digits twisting through the locks in a tight enough grip to keep you right where he wants you, but not hurt you. His thumb brushes the shell of your ear, and a moment of softness passes between you before he nuzzles the tip of his nose with yours. 

“You know just how to push my buttons, huh?” His deep voice vibrates through his chest, and in the close proximity, you can hear the mix of desperation and frustration that he lost. It’s a foreign sight, seeing him so worked up that his blue irises darken into an incoming storm on the horizon. 

Xavier is distracted, mostly by the haze in your eyes, or even the slight curve of a smirk that you wear so prettily. But a small part is also focused on the tip of your tongue as it darts out to wet your lower lip. He knows he’s so far gone in your essence, craving every part of you, that he doesn’t care about the inevitable of wearing that god-forsaken outfit during any intimate moment you wish. 

“Mhm,” the grin you have is cocky, almost as if you are proud of the fact that you have him wrapped around your finger, ready to give in at just a bit of teasing. “But you love it.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face betrays his feelings. Of course, he loves it. Nothing is hotter than seeing you reduce him to a mess, even though he can turn it at the drop of a hat. 

You like to think you always have the upper hand, but Xavier always comes out on top. His grip muses your hair, the other sliding along your waist as he bucks his hips up. It’s a languid motion, and in a single breath, he connects your lips once more. 

Your tongues naturally find each other, twisting and turning in a slow dance. There’s no rush. Xavier can take his time exploring you while feeling every muscle in your thigh twitch. Every sense is full of him, and for a moment, you can barely discern where you end and he begins. 

But that’s part of the fun. 

Grunts of pleasure echo in your mouth, and you respond with whimpers of your own. It’s your own language of just noises that you can decipher with ease from how well you know your boyfriend. In turn, he can tell by the hitch in your whimper, the way you press even further into him, and your hands move in a line from his chest to his neck, that you feel the same way as him. 

A hint of slow adoration paired with an intense need to show you how much he loves you. 

You know.

He sits back just enough to speak, not wanting his lips to be far from your own but needing the space to get his thoughts out. “Princess,” he groans, kissing you quickly as if he can’t get enough, “you don’t know what you do to me.” 

A giggle escapes you, and your eyes are focused on the drunk flush of his cheeks and the haze of darkness in his gaze. “Oh, I know.” You hum, your fingers interlocking behind his neck. “Or at least, I think I know.” 

“No,” Xavier shakes his head, his hair moving along with it. “You don’t know.” He sucks in a breath, suddenly not even able to breathe properly in your presence. The competition isn’t even in his mind; all he can focus on is you, you, you. “I will never get enough of you.” 

“Hm,” another hum, and your smirk morphs to a gentle smile. “I can say the same thing, Xavi.” 

“But,” your eyebrows raise, the rich color of your eyes giving way to a bright joy. “You lost the game.” Xavier frowns, but you keep going. “So you know what that means.” 

“Don’t say it.” 

“I need to get my Lumiere costume out of the closet.” Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and in a swift movement, you wiggle out of his grasp and pull him in the direction of your shared bedroom. 

His eyes are trained on your hips, the sway being all too enticing that he has to have you back in his grasp. Arms wrap around your waist, and his chest meets your back before you can even make it to the threshold of your room. 

Labored breaths drift along your neck, fully exposed by the thin straps of your sheer nightgown. A low groan comes from him, and his hips grind against the swell of your ass just to make sure you know how hard he is. You know. You’ve known since the moment you moved to sit on his thighs. The strain in the fabric of his sweatpants is hard to miss, and it’s even harder when he guides you back against him, pinning you up against the wall. 

“Xavier.” You groan as the flat of his palm rests on your lower abdomen. He’s so warm, and you want so badly to indulge, but this is supposed to be a punishment. He lost. “We need to get to the bedroom.” 

“We’ll get there… eventually.” His warm lips dance across your shoulder, and he nearly growls out the words as he continues the slow grinding. 

Your voice hums with disapproval, and he lets you go with a huff when you pull a little harder at his wrists. He would never trap you if you didn’t want it, but god, is it impossible to resist the way you turn and drag him further toward the room. 

It isn’t until you’re standing in front of your side of the closet, digging into the corner and whipping out the outfit in a flash of white and blue, that Xavier sighs. As if his nightmare is finally becoming a reality, he slumps against the edge of the bed, his eyes hazing over with an innocence you’ve seen before when he pretends not to know something. 

“Wait,” he says softly, his eyelashes framing his pretty blue eyes as he blinks, “I really lost…”

“Mhm,” you nod, holding it out for him to weakly grab onto the handle of the hanger. “If I remember correctly, you kissed me first. Thus, you lost the competition.” A proud smile curls at your lips as he stands, walking toward the bathroom with a dejected hang of his head. 

“Fine, fine.” He huffs as he walks, the door closing with a click. 

It doesn’t take long for him to emerge from the bathroom once more, his cheeks flushed beneath the beautiful mask on the top half of his face. It’s obvious that he hates it, his hands playing with the light blue lapel that crosses over a sharp silver chest. But there’s also a bit of depth in his walk when he sees the way your thighs clench together.

The shoulders are filled out so well, maybe a bit too well, that you force yourself to take a breath and admire that he’s actually doing this for you. Yes, he lost. And yes, this is his punishment. But if he truly didn’t want to do it, he didn’t have to. 

“Enjoying the view?” He sulks, standing at the edge of the bed and staring down at your frame. The sheer nightgown still sits on your skin, and he can see the rise and fall of your chest. “I think you are, princess.” 

“Of course I am.” You playfully roll your eyes, reaching a hand up toward him to pull him down. The raised bumps of his mask darken the shadows over his blue eyes, painting them like an ocean with rising tides, ready to drown you in the surf. “My hot boyfriend is wearing my other hot boyfriend’s outfit?” 

You can’t see it, but his eyebrows crease together. He sets his hands on your waist, kneading your sides softly as he is rendered to silence for a moment. Something swims deep in his vision, and it’s impossible to put your finger on.

“Since I already lost, does that mean I can touch you now?” The deep timbre of his voice catches you off guard, but it’s quickly replaced by a rising flush across your chest. Under the soft purple sheer, your thighs threaten to clench around his hips, and your nipples harden behind the cups of your bra. 

“Yeah–”

All other words are cut off by his lips meeting yours. It’s a bruising kiss that is all passion, with the usual undertone of intimacy that Xavier shows in all of his actions. With his tongue tracing your bottom lip, his hands push up the edge of your nightgown, exposing the expanse of your stomach and up over your bra-clad breasts. 

His grunts echo in your mouth, swallowed by the back of your throat, and you respond with a whimper of your own. It’s desperate, just like the way he palms the cups of your bra and his hips slowly grind down onto the wet patch of your panties. 

Only when he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and to the long line of your neck do you hear his voice. “Mine,” he hums, the tip of his mask dragging across your skin. “All mine.” 

The possessive words strike a chord, forcing groans and whimpers to fall from your parted lips. When paired with the slow grinding of his bulging pants to your rapidly soaking panties… It’s heaven on earth. 

But you still want the chance to tease him, so as he tugs off your nightgown, you pull him down for another kiss. Your palm cups the bulge in his pants, and as you sit back against the pillow, you meet his desperate expression with a smirk. 

“You’re so hard, Lumiere.” 

The name sets him off, his eyes widening just enough for you to notice as well as the vice-like grip on your waist. Fingers wrap around your wrist, wrenching your touch away from him and placing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. 

His eyes are dark, a hunger in them unlike any other as he slowly kisses up your arm. Without taking his gaze off of you, his lips worship your body as if you didn’t just say his name, as if he's reminding you that he is Xavier, even though he’s wearing that stupid outfit. 

“Do you want to try that again?” One of his eyebrows shifts up, his mouth next to your ear as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. A simple and swift tug and the undergarmet is cast aside to the floor, his thumb rubbing along your folds while he sucks a mark into the side of your neck.

“Xav–” His name is cut off with a whimper, the pleasurable pain coursing through you from both his light caress of your clit and the sting of his mark in your skin. 

“Good girl.” He whispers, reaching around with his other hand and expertly unclasping your bra. After so many times of practice on you, it comes to him with measured ease. 

When he settles between your thighs, his hands holding onto the flesh in an attempt to stop you from closing them around his head, he speaks again, his voice calm yet full of intense desire. “Who is it that’s marking you right now, princess?” A loud noise echoes as he sucks a light mark into your thigh. 

“Is it Lumiere?” Even the name rolling off his tongue is tinged with jealousy and annoyance, but also a hint of tease, his teeth nipping right below where you really need him. 

A shake of your head answers him, but it’s not satisfactory. “No, no.” Xavier tuts his tongue, a light kiss being placed on the hood of your clit. “I want words, princess.” His thumbs part your folds, exposing the fluttering ring of muscle. “Who is marking you?”

Once he sucks another mark into the inside of your other thigh, you catch your breath. “You.” You gasp, your fingers threading through his hair as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your already throbbing clit. “F – fuck… You, Xavier.” Your words are stuttered between gasps, fingers tightening in his hair and despite the bottom half of his face being obscured by your pussy, you can see the smile that forms. 

“That’s right.” His lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, sucking harshly and listening to the sharp moan of his name that slips from your lips. “It’s me, princess.” The whisper fans out over your dripping pussy. “I want you to look at these marks and know it’s me that made them, not Lumiere.”

As he delves back into your heat, the silver adornments of the mask are the only thing you can see, along with the striking blue of his eyes that refuse to leave yours. His tongue dips inside, tasting your essence while his nose tickles your pulsing clit. After having done this so many times, he knows exactly what to do and how to prolong your pleasure. 

“Ah!” You moan, your hips bucking up against his face, grinding down and taking just what you want. His name falls from your lips, and it’s exactly what he wants to hear as heat rushes through your entire body. It’s addicting to hear each sound of his name, and he thinks that there can’t be anything prettier than your hooded eyes and soft cheeks that watch him like a hawk. 

Maybe the second prettiest thing, compared to the way your eyes widen, and a desperate whimper comes as he sits back up on his knees. Just as quickly as the coil is pulling taut, your body responding in turn to his mouth with just as much need as always, it’s released without any satisfaction. 

Xavier’s hands card through your hair to hold you in place as he kisses you with even more fervor. You can taste your essence on his tongue, and the ruined orgasm pulses through you, only adding to your heightened senses. 

He doesn’t often just stop, especially not when he’s face deep in your pussy, but with the jealousy swimming in his eyes and the grip on your hair and hip, he’s delving into another part of himself. It’s a part that is a bit more intense, a bit more overwhelming, but it’s interesting to play into that side of him.

The soft groans are pressed to your lips, and it takes him a moment to pull away. His wrist is caught by your hand, and you pout up at him with a sadistic smirk that causes his cock to twitch in his pants. 

“Keep it on.” You say, knowing it was still his punishment, and also finding him extremely hot dressed in that outfit. “Please?” 

Xavier smirks, his eyes blinking slowly behind the mask, before his fingers pop the button of his pants, pushing both that and his briefs down enough for his length to spring out. The tip is an angry red, skin pulled taut as the blood pumps straight down. A drop of precum drips from his slit onto your mound. The weight of his arousal rests right on your abdomen, reminding you just how deep he’s going to go. 

“Only because you asked nicely.” His hand steadies himself, the other gripping onto the inside of your thigh to keep you spread for him. Loud squelching comes from below, and he taps the tip of his cock onto onto the wetness of your folds. “And you look so beautiful underneath me.” 

The head of his cock slips inside, and you bite at your bottom lip with each inch that stretches you out. It isn’t painful, especially after having had him inside you too many times to count. It’s like he’s moulded you to his shape, always able to accommodate him and his length until he’s nestled right up against your most sensitive spot. 

“Good girl.” He soothes, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, and then your neck. “Taking me so well.” 

The first few thrusts are slow, and you can feel the slick accumulating both beneath you and onto the fabric of his pants. Your legs wrap around him, tempting him to move just a bit faster, if the whimpered “faster” isn’t enough to give him the hint. 

As he picks up the pace, all you can focus on is the grunts and groans of the man above you paired with the drag of his cock along your walls. You can feel every pulsing vein, every inch of his thickness that doesn’t stretch you out too much, but it’s the perfect girth to tighten the coil inside you. 

“Xavier – fu– so good.” You pant, your hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him up to connect your lips once again. It’s hot, and barely even a kiss. It’s just a clash of mouths and a swallowing of noises as the clapping of his balls on your ass overtake any words you could utter. 

“Mhm,” he hums, one of his hands palming your breast while the other expertly finds your bundle of nerves. It wrenches a whine that borders on a scream at the sharp increase in white hot pleasure thrumming through your veins. 

His thumb flicks across your nipple, sending shockwaves across every inch of your skin, filling the expanse with goosebumps. The pebbled nub hardens even more, and all three sensations combined feel like you’re drowning in lava. It’s pulsing and throbbing, yet you can’t get enough. 

“Fu–ck… Princess.” He breathes out, his thumb quickening its touch on your clit. It’s a push and pull. With each time he is flush against your pelvis, his digit adds just a bit more pressure, alternating from slow strokes to quick presses in quick succession to the pistoning of his length inside your heat. 

“God… Oh – my god. Xavier–” Everything seems heightened, and as the silver of his mask glitters in the light of your lamp, you see the part of Xavier in his eyes. He’s feral, but he also makes sure that he doesn’t grip you too hard, nor does he abuse your cervix with his length.

“Keep going, princess.” Xavier grunts, the silver hair falling just above the edge of his mask. Some of it sticks to his forehead, but his hands are full, so he let’s the sweat soak him, dripping down the side of his face as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. “Say my – fuck – name again.” 

“Xavier–” his name comes in whimpers. It’s uttered over and over, as the coil inside you is pulled impossibly tighter in your lower abdomen. It’s said like you’re praying, begging for something that you know he will give you. 

Xavier grunts again, his lips finding yours in small kisses that add to the intense passion in the moment. He tries to speak, but the words are lost with each time you clench around him. You’re so tight, strangling him with each sheath of his length inside you, but he will never get enough. 

Heat settles on your skin, and your fingers tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. A soft moan comes from him, and as the backs of your feet rest on his lower back, he slows his thrusts down into a deep grinding. 

You can feel all of him, every tantalizing inch of pleasure that rockets through you. The only thing you can manage is his name, but he loves it by the way his cock twitches inside you with each whimper. 

What pushes you over the edge is when the hand on your breast drags down your front, his palm pushing down on your lower abdomen so he can feel the outline of his cockhead through your stomach. He’s always loved doing that because it sends shudders of intensity through both of you. 

“Fu–Xavier!” His name is screamed to the heavens, face buried in his shoulder as your high washes over you in white hot waves. It’s like you’re drowning, the breath being stolen from your lungs, and your heart beating so quickly that it threatens to erupt out of your chest. 

Xavier utters your name in a grunt as he feels you reach your peak. The thrusts slow, still grinding deep and dragging out your pleasure into one of ebbing overstimulation. It isn’t until the very end of your orgasm that you feel him twitch inside you. 

Spurts of cum drench your walls, and Xavier holds you still as he fills you up with every last drop he has. He never wants to waste anything, wanting to stay deep inside you for hours after if you let him.

Silence sits between you as Xavier looks you in the eyes. Both of you are breathing heavy, warm air mixing between you as sweat soaks into the strands of hair at the nape of your neck. 

“Xavier.” You start, brushing his silver hair back from his forehead before taking the mask off. His cheekbones are painted pink, and you bring him down for a gentle kiss. “That was amazing. Thank you.” 

“Well, I lost.” He says simply, nose nuzzling against yours as he traces circles into your waist with his thumb. 

“But you didn’t have to.” 

“Do you…” He stops for a moment, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. “Do you really like him more than me?” 

For a moment, you think it’s silly that he’s so jealous of himself, but then you realize that it’s his persona. Sure, it’s him, but it’s also a different aspect of his personality. No, you don’t like Lumiere more. So you shake your head.

“Of course not.” You kiss him again, cupping his jaw and caressing the side of his neck. “I like Lumiere, but I love Xavier.” 

The tips of his ears deepen an even darker red as he chuckles, kissing you once more as if he couldn’t get enough. He really can’t. He could kiss you for eternity and never get tired of it. 

“Good.” He nods, his eyes trailing down your body until he lands on the place you’re still so intimately connected. Arousal courses through him, and he slowly resumes the grind of his hips against you. 

“Can I take this off then and go another round?” 

© starsforxavi

[ladhotel]

Gorgeous Misty Invasions Art from chimmyming on Twitter

https://x.com/chimmyming?s=21&t=E--mYAhoHyWN-Kup-yWiBA

[manikas-whims]

XAVIER'S ARMS

XAVIER IN A SHORT SLEEVED SHIRT 😍

this is hotter than seeing him shirtless 🥵 I'm like a Victorian Era man seeing an ankle..

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The sound of tumbling and a series of thuds echoed through the hallway of the Hunter Association building as you lost your footing at the top of the stairs. Your body bumped and rolled down the entire flight before landing in an ungraceful heap at the bottom. Xavier, who had been walking a few paces ahead, turned at the commotion.

He blinked once, then twice, his eyes widening as you simply stood up, dusted yourself off, and continued walking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Are you okay?” Xavier finally asked, his voice carrying a note of concern. He stood perfectly still, analyzing you with careful eyes.

“Just a little slip. Nothing to worry about,” you responded casually, as if commenting on the weather rather than your spectacular tumble.

When you reached him and nodded casually, he continued to stare, his eyes tracking over your form as if conducting a silent assessment.

“The impact of your fall might cause potential contusions to your left side and possible minor fractures to your wrist based on how you landed,” he stated matter-of-factly, pointing back at the stairs. “Yet you’re displaying no signs of physical distress.”

“I’ve had worse tumbles than that during training,” you replied with a shrug, continuing to walk forward.

As you dismissed his concern with a wave of your hand, a subtle crease formed between his eyebrows.

He reached out, gently taking your arm to stop your forward momentum, and examined you more carefully. His touch lingered for a while.

“Your physical endurance is... unusual,” he observed quietly. “I’ve witnessed similar falls result in hospitalization for others.”

“I’ve had worse during missions,” you said with a hint of pride, meeting his gaze.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed slightly, the only indication that your comment had given him pause. He studied you for a moment longer before releasing your arm.

“If you say so,” he said, falling into step beside you. Yet throughout the remainder of your walk, he stayed unusually close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours. At one point, he subtly adjusted his pace when you winced slightly turning a corner—a reaction so minor most would’ve missed it, but not Xavier.

“The human body often reveals what the mind attempts to conceal,” he remarked softly, hours later, offering you a small container of what appeared to be homemade salve. “For the bruising you claim doesn’t exist. Mission injuries included.”

His last words carried the faintest hint of what might have been amusement, gone so quickly you almost missed it.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The cascade of thuds drew Zayne’s attention immediately. He turned just in time to witness the last half of your tumble down the hospital’s stairwell, your body bouncing off the final steps before sprawling across the polished floor. His posture stiffened as you simply stood up, straightened your clothes, and began walking away as if you hadn’t just fallen down an entire flight of stairs.

“Stop right there,” his voice cut through the shocked silence of onlooking hospital staff, his tone commanding.

You turned around with an exaggeratedly innocent expression, eyes wide, pointing to yourself as if to say “Who, me?” despite being the only person who just performed an impromptu demonstration of gravity’s effects.

Zayne’s eyebrows knit together, clearly not amused by your feigned innocence. His footsteps quickened as he approached you in a few strides.

“As your doctor, I’m not giving you an option here,” he said firmly, moving directly into your path and effectively blocking your escape. “Come here. Now.”

“Is this your professional opinion or personal concern talking?” you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice as you met his stern gaze.

Something flickered briefly across his features—perhaps surprise—before his professional demeanor reasserted itself.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said, his expression hardening as he gestured to his office that happened to be nearby. “You just fell down an entire flight of stairs. Adrenaline can mask symptoms of a concussion or internal bleeding. This isn’t negotiable.”

He guided you firmly but gently into the room, his trained hands already examining the back of your head for contusions.

“Follow my finger,” he instructed, moving it side to side before your eyes. His expression remained serious, but you caught the slight softening around his eyes—a look of concern he didn’t bother hiding from you. “Even if you feel fine now, delayed symptoms are common with trauma injuries. The human spine isn’t designed to bounce down twenty steps.”

“Is this really necessary?” you sighed, even as you complied with his instructions.

“Yes,” he replied curtly, not breaking his concentration as he continued his examination. “It is absolutely necessary. And if you were anyone else, you’d already be on your way to radiology.”

After completing his thorough examination, his expression softened slightly. He reached into his pocket and offered you a piece of candy.

“What’s this for?” you asked, surprised.

“Sugar. Helps with shock,” he explained, pecking your forehead. “Next time, please hold the railing.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel was midway through a call with Thomas, describing his latest artistic inspiration with gestures when the thunderous cascade of your body tumbling down the stairs interrupted him. His expression froze in horror as he watched you bouncing and rolling down the entire flight, wincing visibly with each impact.

“Oh—” His eyes widened comically as you hit the bottom with a final thud. But before he could rush to your aid, you simply stood up, brushed yourself off, and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Rafayel stared at you, mouth slightly agape. He blinked rapidly, looking from you to the stairs and back again.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He ended the call abruptly, not even bothering with a goodbye, and hurried after you, his long legs quickly closing the distance. “Did you really just—? And you’re just—you’re just walking?!”

“Your face right now is priceless,” you said with a small laugh, watching his expressions shift rapidly between shock, concern, and disbelief. “Take a breath, Rafayel. You look like you might pass out.”

His face scrunched up in a dramatic wince as he examined you from all angles, hands fluttering near your shoulders as if afraid you might suddenly collapse.

“Are you okay? That looked painful…” His voice rose several octaves. “Do you have any idea how terrifying that looked?”

“I’ve had plenty of practice at falling gracefully. Well, semi-gracefully,” you replied with a casual shrug.

Rafayel’s jaw dropped a fraction further. “Practice? You practice falling down stairs?” He made a wild gesture toward the staircase. “That wasn’t graceful in any way, semi or otherwise! That was terrifying!”

When you tried to brush past him, Rafayel gently grabbed your shoulders, looking straight into your eyes, his expression still a mixture of disbelief and concern.

“Seriously? You’re just going to walk that off like it’s nothing? Like you didn’t just do a full somersault down those stairs?” He squeezed your shoulders gently. “Even cats have the decency to look embarrassed when they fall.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You scared me, you know? I thought I was about to witness a tragedy in five acts, complete with a dramatic finale at the bottom.”

“Would it make you feel better if I limped a little?” you asked with a mischievous smile. “I could throw in some groaning for dramatic effect. Maybe clutch my side like this?” You demonstrated with exaggerated theatrics.

Rafayel’s worried expression cracked slightly, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t you dare mock me when I’m genuinely concerned about you,” he said, though the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction. “Though your theatrical skills need work. That limp was completely unconvincing.”

He continued to hover around you for the rest of the day, periodically reaching out to touch your arm or shoulder as if confirming you were still intact. Later, he appeared with an ice pack and painkillers.

“Just in case,” he said. “Also, I may have told everyone to clear a path when they see you coming. You know, for public safety.”

“Public safety or my safety?” you asked wryly.

“Both,” he grinned. “Clearly, stairs have declared war on you, and I refuse to let it win another round.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The sound of your tumble echoed through the corridor of Onychinus’s base. As you picked yourself up and continued walking as if nothing happened, Sylus, who had been observing from a few paces behind, arched a single eyebrow—a rare display of surprise crossing his features.

“Well,” he remarked at the unexpected scene he just witnessed. “Such a dramatic descent. I wasn’t aware you had an interest in impromptu acrobatics.”

“Just didn’t want to make a scene,” you replied, straightening your clothes casually. “Is my dignity still intact?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a subtle smirk. “Your dignity? Perhaps partially. Your reputation for grace, however, may require some rehabilitation.”

He fell into step beside you, his usual smug smile returning as he studied your face with those piercing eyes, missing nothing.

“Most people would at least acknowledge their intimate encounter with a flight of stairs,” he commented, his tone casual yet observant. “Your nonchalance is either admirable or concerning. I haven’t decided which.”

“Would showing weakness earn me special treatment?” you asked, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of your own.

Something intrigued flickered in his eyes. “From me? Sure. Though I find your stubborn resilience equally fascinating.”

He reached out, straightening a piece of your disheveled clothing with his fingers, the touch lingering just long enough to assess for a reaction of pain.

“While I admire your endurance, even remarkable individuals such as yourself are subject to the laws of physics and biology,” he observed, his words carrying a subtle undercurrent of genuine concern beneath the calm exterior.

He gestured for you to continue walking with him, matching his pace to yours, watchful of any irregularity in your posture.

“I do hope you’re not concealing injuries for the sake of appearances,” he added after a moment. “While I appreciate your fortitude, I prefer my favorite person intact and functioning optimally.”

“If I admitted it hurt, would that satisfy your curiosity, Sylus?” you asked, your voice deliberately light.

His smile widened. “Curiosity? No. That requires a far greater mystery than your apparent immunity to staircases.” He paused, studying you with increased interest. “But my concern might be somewhat alleviated.”

“Next time,” he murmured, “perhaps consider taking the elevator if you don’t feel like walking.” His hand found the small of your back as you walked, the gesture appearing casual but actually allowing him to subtly assess if you were truly as unaffected as you claimed.

Later that evening, a package arrived, containing an ornate bottle of sophisticated bath salts. “For muscles that may protest their earlier mistreatment, despite your claims to the contrary. Consider it a reward for providing me with such an entertaining diversion to my otherwise mundane day.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The moment you hit the bottom step and stood up as if nothing happened, Caleb’s expression transformed into one of shock and concern. He was at your side in an instant, hands hovering near your shoulders as if afraid to touch you.

“What the—? That wasn’t just a stumble, that was a full disaster in motion,” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You just… fell down the entire flight of stairs.”

“It looked worse than it felt,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m fine, really.”

Caleb’s eyes widened further, clearly not buying your casual dismissal. “Looked worse than—? It looked like you were auditioning for a role as a human slinky!”

When you tried to brush it off and keep walking, he stepped in front of you, his hands finally settling on your shoulders to stop your movement.

“No, no way,” he said firmly, his authority briefly showing through his normally relaxed persona. “You know normal people actually feel pain when gravity wins, right? You don’t just walk away from something like that.”

“Fine, check me for injuries if it’ll make you feel better,” you conceded with a sigh.

He guided you to a nearby chair, kneeling in front of you to check for any visible injuries. “What happened? Did you slip or something?” he asked, his voice softening with a hint of teasing returning.

His hands gently examined your arms and shoulders, careful not to hurt you further. “Look, I need to know you’re actually okay, not just pretending to be tough. Those stairs didn’t hold back, and neither should you if something hurts.”

“Fine, it hurts,” you admitted with a slight grimace. “Happy now? But I’m still walking away from it.”

“I knew it,” he sighed. “And no, I’m not happy you’re hurt. I’m happy you’re finally being honest about it.”

He finished his inspection, seemingly satisfied that you were fine, and sat beside you, one arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “That was quite a fall, Pipsqueak. You scared the hell out of me,” he chuckled, but the worry hadn’t completely left his eyes. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time, okay?”

“I promise to at least try to stay upright,” you said with a small smile.

“I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get from you,” he said, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

As you finally convinced him you were okay enough to continue your day, he helped you up, but didn’t let go of your hand, though you noticed he maintained a vigilant watch over you for the rest of the day, positioning himself on the stair side whenever you walked near any steps.

“Just in case gravity decides it wants another round with you,” he explained. “Next time, I might have to catch you. That would be more fun for both of us, don’t you think?”

“Next time I’ll just aim for you instead of the floor,” you replied with a grin.

“Deal,” he said instantly. “I’m much softer to land on than those stairs, guaranteed.”

Based on this request.

[xayspancakeee]

father and son.

he’s so cute pls.

[ourlittleuluru]

Spring arrives... bringing... Lumiere!! ( •̀ ᴗ •́ ) و ✨

📖⬅⬅⬅

[mwphisto]

How LaDs Men Eat Your...

Pairings Include: Xavier x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Sylus x Reader | Caleb x Reader

Warning, this post contains: pretty straight forward, pussy eating!

Xavier

Xavier eats your pussy like a man starved. You didn't think he had it in him, and oh, how sorely mistaken you were. Making out had progressed into something more, daring the two of you to finally cross the line into uncharted territory.

When Xavier so shyly asked if he could go down on you, who were you to say no? Honestly, you didn't know what stars to thank for the courage to say yes, because Xavier had brought you over the edge three times with just his mouth and tongue.

Xavier eats pussy like it's his last meal, his last chance to ever taste you in such a way. He's all tongue and saliva, licking at your puffy clit so vigorously and sucking at your clit so harshly that you're shaking.

It gets to the point his entire head is moving with his tongue's motions, shaking back and forth while drool seeps down his chin, covers your cunt, and makes a mess of the sheets below your ass.

He won't stop until you're begging, and even then, he'll go longer.

Rafayel

Rafayel eats your pussy like he wants to memorize it. Just like everything else about him, he'll go down on you with some level of grace. It's kind of fascinating, the sweet noises he makes as he nuzzles your cunt with his nose, eyes locked on your face as if he is mentally sketching it out for a new art piece.

It happened for the first time in the middle of his art studio, with him on his knees and your legs spread for him on the velvet of his couch. He had taken his sweet time, causing you pure agony as he licked and sucked and bit as if he were merely testing the waters.

When comfortable, Rafayel will eat you out until you're crying. Until your clit is swollen from arousal and his constant sucking and nipping. Until whatever surface below your ass is stained or soaked with your cum and his drool. He could spent hours down there.

His fingers gripping the plush of your thighs, moaning wantonly against your quivering cunt as his hips hump whatever is closest to him in that moment. He simply can't get enough, can't stop.

And you don't think you want him to.

Zayne

Zayne eats your pussy meticulously. Years of med school and more anatomy classes than he can count, he'll joke that they all led up to this very moment. When Zayne ate you out for the first time, you genuinely saw stars and were left questioning if he had been joking or not about those anatomy classes.

He had asked you for help with stress relief, and you had initially thought he meant he wanted you to go down on him. The surgeon had a very different motive in mind, and you were over the moon when he fell to his knees before you.

Zayne studies your pussy, as if he's in awe of what he's seeing. Carefully touching, kissing, and licking every part of you. Whispering sweet nothings that you can barely make out due to the muffling of his mouth on your clit. Sucking the pulsing bud between eager lips.

Eating pussy is Zayne's favorite de-stress tactic. He'll have you splayed out on his bed, his head between your thighs, and tongue working your sweet cunt until you're damn nearly pulling his hair out of his skull because he won't relent.

He can't help it, you're his perfect remedy.

Sylus

Sylus eats your pussy like he'll die if he doesn't. He knows you have high expectations, and he is nothing if not a man of his word. So when things got heated and he assured you he could make you cum more times than you could count with his mouth alone? You were quick to accept such a promising offer.

Sylus had you stripped and on his bed in record time, evol keeping your hips down as his head remained stationed between your legs. One thing about Sylus is that he is a loud eater, he's moaning and groaning into your slippery cunt as his nose and tongue work you over the edge again and again and again.

Sylus makes out with your pussy, showering it in as much love as he does the rest of your body. His nose bumps your clit so many times you're seeing stars, crying hoarsely as his lips suction to the way-too sensitive bud and he brings another orgasm crashing down on you.

Sylus is smug about it too, kissing your cunt as you come down from yet another high. He'll utter sweet nothings, resting his nose against your pubic bone as he observes your chest rise and fall rapidly, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. Still, he's not done with you.

He's greedy, and now that he's had a taste, he's utterly insatiable.

Caleb

Caleb eats your pussy like a goddamn animal. He is feral, you're sure of it, sobbing hysterically as you physically cannot get him off of your overstimulated cunt. Damn him and that evol, you're forever at his mercy and it doesn't seem like he's letting up any time soon.

When you finally gave Caleb the green light, the poor boy came in his pants before he could make you cum. Eating your sweet pussy was enough to have him busting a load completely untouched. You took it as a compliment, finding it oddly adorable.

Caleb is cruel with your pussy, licking, biting, sucking, and spitting on it like it's his own personal chew toy. He's not satisfied until his chin is dripping with your cum, until it's soaked not only through the sheets but into the mattress below.

Caleb's evol keeps you at his mercy, babbling and begging for him to ease up. Your poor pussy so sensitive and yet he keeps going, slobbering and slurping like you're the best meal he's ever had.

Honestly? In his eyes, you are.

[tbaluver]

OH MA GAWD NEW QUINT BANNER ( April 30TH! 🤍 )

[harblkun]

Also I needed some real solars for his trials because he ONLY EVER GIVES ME BONFIRE OR BUNNY