Xavier X Reader - Blog Posts

So cute!

drunken confessions | xavier

synopsis : After finals, you and your friends head to your usual barbecue stall to celebrate—only for your longtime crush, Xavier, to show up unexpectedly. A few drinks later, he drunkenly (and then soberly) confesses he’s in love with you, turning a chaotic, hilarious night into something unexpectedly sweet and unforgettable.

content : college!au, comedy, fluff, another crackhead energy writing

writer’s note : i’m enjoying this type of writing too much. I think i’ve watched too much How I Met Your Mother. (This is the fic version of this)

Finals were finally over.

You threw your arms into the air like a victorious gladiator leaving the academic coliseum alive. “Freedom!” you cheered, walking down the campus path flanked by your equally war-torn comrades.

“God, it’s finally over,” your friend moaned dramatically to your right, sounding like she was about to crumple to the pavement.

“Right? We have to celebrate!” the one on your left chimed in, already scrolling through food delivery apps as if her life depended on it.

You chuckled, adjusting your backpack like a soldier laying down arms. “You guys go ahead. I need to shower—get this stress off me. Usual spot?”

They both nodded, disappearing into the horizon with the determination of people about to inhale an irresponsible amount of meat skewers.

Cut to twenty minutes later, you emerged from your dorm freshly showered and wrapped in your favorite jacket—the one that made you feel marginally less like a zombie.

You made your way to the holy grail of campus hangouts, the barbecue stall.

Ah yes, the sacred grounds of burnt chicken, cheap beer, and emotionally unhinged exam rants.

You stepped into the familiar haze of grilled smoke and MSG, and two seniors waved you over, already parked at the corner table with a spread fit for a post-war feast.

You lit up immediately, sliding into your seat like it had always been waiting for you.

The food smelled divine, the beer was cold, and most importantly—finals were over.

Banter filled the air as skewers were devoured. Eventually, the chaos mellowed, and the group began talking about future plans—internships, travel, sleep, mostly sleep.

That’s when the friend to your right leaned in with all the grace of a gossiping gremlin.

“Maybe Y/N will finally confess to that cute upperclassman.”

You nearly inhaled your drink through your nose.

You smacked her arm lightly. “Xavier is just a friend,” you said with all the conviction of a bad liar, even as your face turned a spectacular shade of red that had nothing to do with the beer.

You sighed in relief. At least the subject of your ongoing emotional crisis wasn’t—

“Oh hey, look. It’s Xavier,” one of the seniors announced casually, tilting their head toward the entrance.

You froze.

You turned.

There he was.

Xavier—silver hair soft under the glow of the stall lights, hands in his coat pockets, that calm, unreadable face that haunted your thoughts way more than was socially acceptable.

The first time you saw him, you forgot what your own name was.

Your soul left your body.

You lunged for your friend’s arm like you were going down with the ship. “Why is he here??” you hissed in a voice three octaves higher than normal.

She shrugged, entirely unbothered.

“I dunno. He’s alone though. Wanna invite him over?” Her brows wiggled like the devil’s own dance.

“No—!”

Too late.

A senior had already stood up and was walking over.

You watched, helpless, as he approached Xavier.

Your stomach folded in on itself.

Xavier’s eyes scanned the table—and then, like fate personally hated you, they landed on yours.

He smiled. Just slightly. Just enough to ruin your life.

Then he nodded and turned to follow the senior.

You screamed internally, gripping your friend’s arm again. “He’s coming! He’s coming over here!”

Your friend leaned in calmly. “Don’t worry. Just act normal.”

You stared at her, deadpan. “I don’t have a normal.”

She snorted—loudly—and you could already feel impending doom approaching.

“Hey, you can sit here,” she chirped sweetly, standing up and offering her seat like a traitor with no conscience, despite the death glare you were very clearly aiming at her skull.

Xavier murmured a quiet, “Thanks,” before settling down right next to you.

Right next to you.

There went your pulse.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice so calm it made you want to simultaneously scream and crawl into the nearest dumpster.

You turned your head, smiling a little too stiffly. “Hey,” you replied, sounding more like a malfunctioning toaster than a functioning human being.

Then, in a move of pure survival, you downed the rest of your beer in one desperate gulp.

From your left, your friend immediately started snickering. Snickering.

You didn’t even look at her.

You just sent a slow, withering glare in her direction that said, I hope your next skewer falls in the dirt.

She only laughed harder.

Xavier blinked, a little amused. “Rough exam?”

“No,” you said, still trying to recover. “Just… social interaction.”

“Ah,” he nodded, like he understood completely. “Terrifying.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

Then your friend—not knowing the value of peace and silence—stage whispered, “Just kiss already.”

You reached for another beer. Or maybe a skewer. Or maybe a time machine. Anything to get you out of this.

“I hope you trip and fall,” you muttered loud enough for your so-called friend to hear, punctuating it with another desperate gulp of beer.

She only cackled harder.

Next to you, Xavier chuckled under his breath—quiet, warm, unfairly attractive.

You caught the slight curve of his lips as he picked up a skewer and took a bite, looking far too composed for someone who just sat next to a human panic attack.

“So,” he began, casually, like this was a normal night and not a social emergency. “What was your last exam?”

You blinked.

Brain, Say words.

Mouth, “…Yes.”

He paused, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes?”

You cleared your throat, scrambling. “I mean—econ. Not yes. I didn’t mean yes. Unless… yes to the exam. But no to—uh, wait, what was the question again?”

Smooth. So smooth you were practically sandpaper.

Xavier raised an eyebrow, amused. “I was asking about your exam, not proposing marriage.”

You choked on your skewer. Your friend howled with laughter.

Somewhere deep inside, your soul quietly filed for early retirement.

A couple more beers—and the gentle numbing of your social anxiety—and you finally found your voice.

Actual sentences started leaving your mouth.

You laughed. You cracked a joke.

You even made eye contact.

Progress.

Xavier, for his part, listened attentively, nodding along and asking questions with that same soft interest of his.

The conversation flowed easier than you’d expected, the awkward tension slowly dissolving into something… almost comfortable.

Until his fourth glass.

That was when you noticed it.

His cheeks were flushed, just a little pinker than usual. His gaze lingered too long on things that weren’t all that interesting—like the table, your cup, your face.

He swayed a little as he reached for another skewer, missing it by a good inch and playing it off like the plate had moved.

If it were anyone else, you might not have noticed.

But it was Xavier.

And you totally hadn’t memorized the way he carried himself or anything.

His composure was still there, somehow—his tone even, his voice calm—but his body? Oh no. His body was absolutely staging a rebellion.

You leaned in slightly, brow raised. “Are you… drunk?”

He blinked at you, then squinted like he was trying to read your face through a fog. “I’m perfectly fine,” he said, placing the skewer onto his plate with the delicate precision of someone who had just lost depth perception.

You stifled a laugh. “That’s not even your plate.”

He looked down. “Ah.”

Your friend, now watching from across the table like this was premium entertainment, whispered, “He’s gonna confess. I feel it.”

You turned to her with narrowed eyes. “If he does, you better start planning the wedding since this’ll be your fault.”

“I’m not drunk,” Xavier insisted, his voice smooth and composed, like he was delivering a formal report instead of swaying gently like a tree in a light breeze.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped. “Oh yeah? Can you still drink?”

He nodded—slowly, like he had to process the question through a slight fog—and then reached for his cup with the determination of someone about to win an Olympic medal in denial.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the full-body urge to scream at how unfairly cute he was being.

All around you, the chaos was beginning to unfold.

Your friends and a couple of the seniors were starting to slump, leaning into one another with flushed faces and increasingly bold declarations of love for fried chicken.

One guy was trying to sing to a soy sauce bottle.

You were tipsy yourself—lightheaded, warm, giggly—but still functioning.

Xavier, though?

Xavier was in a league of his own.

He still sat upright, in that proper, princely sort of way.

A little hunched forward like he was concentrating deeply on not tipping over.

His fingers rested delicately on the rim of his glass, unmoving.

But his eyelids… oh, his eyelids were betraying him. Half-lidded, heavy, with the softest, dazed look. Like he’d drift off mid-sentence or start quoting poetic nonsense about the moon.

He blinked slowly, like the concept of time had just become optional.

You glanced at him—and promptly had to grip the edge of your chair to stop yourself from swooning like a Victorian lady in a corset.

Because this was criminal.

He was a soft flush of pink and sleepy eyes and subtle swaying, still trying so hard to be composed.

And you, poor mortal you, had to pretend like you weren’t enchanted by every second of it.

“You okay?” you asked, gently, quietly.

He turned to you, blinking slowly, like your voice was music.

“…Your eyes are really sparkly,” he murmured, out of nowhere.

You stared.

Your brain short-circuited.

Your friend across the table dropped her chopsticks in delight.

“What?” was the only semi-functional sound your brain managed to produce.

Xavier just blinked at you, slowly, like he hadn’t just casually dropped a romance-novel bomb in the middle of your beer-stained dinner table.

Your entire face ignited. Your soul, body, and spirit were currently rotating in a microwave.

You tried to laugh it off, punching his arm lightly in that awkward, ha-ha-we’re-just-buddies-right kind of way.

“U-Uhm, nice one,” you stammered, cheeks blazing, “Ha ha…”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even pretend like it was a joke.

Instead, he kept swaying gently in place, silver hair a little messy, his blue eyes half-lidded but unwavering—like he was trying to memorize your face in 144p resolution.

And then, he did it.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, slurring ever so slightly.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Your brain rebooted. “I’m sorry, what?”

He tilted his head lazily, looking dead serious in the way only drunk people and toddlers could manage.

“No,” he corrected softly. “I am in love with you.”

It wasn’t even dramatic. No violin swell. No romantic sparkles.

Just Xavier, stating it like he was confirming his name on a test paper.

Your entire body malfunctioned.

Across the table, your friend audibly choked on her drink.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Mostly because your thoughts were somewhere between did he just say that, what do I do with my hands, and oh no he’s so pretty when he’s drunk this is unfair.

Xavier blinked at you again, that tiny sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really warm,” he added, like that was relevant.

You were going to ascend. Or pass out. Or maybe both.

All you knew was, finals were over, the beer was too strong, and Xavier—your Xavier—just confessed to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Without warning, Xavier reached up—slow, a little wobbly, but with full drunken confidence—and gently tapped your cheek with the back of his fingers like he was checking if you were running a fever.

“Even your face is warm,” he mumbled, slurring just enough to make your heart explode.

You short-circuited.

“Y-You can’t just say stuff like that!” you blurted, eyes wide, voice pitched several octaves above sanity.

He blinked at you, completely unfazed, expression dead serious. “But it’s true.”

Your brain actually lagged.

Which part?

The part where he said he was in love with you?

Or the part where your face was warm?

Because frankly, both were devastating, but only one had you questioning the very fabric of your reality.

He was still staring at you—head tilted slightly, like a confused puppy but hotter—while your internal organs were folding into themselves like origami.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Failed.

Somewhere in the background, your friend whispered, “I knew it. I knew it,” like she’d just won the love confession lottery.

“I like being around you,” Xavier says, like he’s commenting on the weather.

Calm. Collected.

Unbothered by the fact that he’s casually dismantling your nervous system.

He pauses, gaze drifting downward to his hands like they just revealed a deep cosmic truth to him.

Then, in the same sleepy, matter-of-fact voice, he adds,

“I believe that also means… I love you.”

And that’s it.

That’s your cause of death.

Not the beer. Not the stress of finals.

But this. Xavier, casually confessing like it’s just another Tuesday.

You practically combust. “X-Xavier, s-stop!” you stammer, hands flailing like you could physically swat his words out of the air.

He frowns immediately, the expression so heartbreakingly sincere that you panic harder. “Should I take it back?”

“NO!” you blurt, horrified at the idea, mortified that you said it so fast.

He blinks, then—smiles. That slow, boyish, ridiculously soft smile that should honestly be illegal.

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, he flops sideways with all the grace of a tranquilized swan, landing directly on your shoulder like it’s the most natural ending to a love confession.

You sit there, stiff as a board, heart pounding loud enough to scare birds out of nearby trees, while everyone else continues drunkenly yelling about chicken wings.

Meanwhile, Xavier is peacefully nestled into you, blissfully unaware that you may never recover from this moment.

Ever.

You instinctively reach up and steady him when he starts to slump off your shoulder, your hand cradling the back of his head like it’s muscle memory.

He hums—hums—in approval, nuzzling a little closer like a sleepy cat that just decided yes, this is home now.

Externally, you manage a calm, nurturing expression.

Serene. Unbothered.

The image of someone who’s got it all under control.

Internally?

You are screaming.

Full-volume, running-in-circles, kicking-the-wall kind of screaming.

The kind where a tiny version of you is throwing confetti and another one is passed out face-down on the floor.

Because Xavier—Xavier—just confessed to being in love with you, smiled when you told him not to take it back, and is now peacefully passed out on your shoulder like you’re his favorite pillow.

You glance down at him, at his soft silver hair brushing your jacket, his lips parted slightly in sleep, and that barely-there smile still lingering like he fell asleep mid-dream.

You want to die.

You want to frame this moment.

You want to scream some more.

Instead, you just hold him a little tighter, letting your fingers rest in his hair, and pray to every celestial being that no one at the table is taking photos.

Yeah, they definitely are.

As the barbecue stall starts closing up, your friends slowly stumble out one by one, still giggling, hiccuping, and occasionally bursting into spontaneous song.

Xavier, meanwhile, is still half-asleep and draped over you like a very warm, very handsome weighted blanket.

You gently coax him to his feet, letting him lean on you as you guide him outside.

Your friends snicker as they pass, waving like little gremlins of chaos.

“Good luck!” one sings.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” another adds, immediately tripping over the curb.

“Wait—guys—seriously?!” you call after them, but they just cackle and disappear into the night like the unhelpful heathens they are.

You turn to Xavier, sighing. “Hey, can you still walk?”

He nods—slowly, dramatically—like a prince trying to prove he’s still fit for battle. You start leading him back toward campus, his steps wobbly but determined.

“I don’t know where your dorm is,” you murmur, glancing at him, half-expecting him to pass out again mid-stride.

Instead, he straightens up a little, eyes still sleepy but focused now.

Then he turns to you—completely serious—and says,“I can sleep with you then.”

You. Burn.

Not just blush. Burn. Entire face. Neck. Soul. Torched.

You stop walking, staring at him like he just suggested marriage and tax forms.

“W-What—Xavier—no—what?!”

He simply blinks at you, unbothered, totally calm. “You said you don’t know where my dorm is.”

“That doesn’t mean the solution is my bed!”

He tilts his head. “It’s efficient.”

You are seconds away from combusting. “You are not allowed to be drunk and logical.”

He just smiles sleepily. “Is that a no?”

You throw your hands up. “It’s a blinking red question mark, Xavier!”

And yet… you’re still guiding him toward your dorm.

Because let’s be real—you lost control of this night the second he said your eyes were sparkly.

After several chaotic, borderline slapstick attempts to keep him from collapsing against your doorframe, you finally manage to wrestle your key into the lock and swing the door open.

Xavier immediately leans all his weight into you like a dramatic Victorian faint.

“Thank God my dorm mate isn’t here,” you mutter, half-dragging, half-guiding him inside.

He makes a content little noise before unceremoniously plopping onto your bed—limbs sprawled like a cat who’s claimed a sunbeam.

You let out a breath, briefly debating whether you should be concerned or impressed.

You rummage through your desk drawer for your water bottle, muttering something about hydration and not letting attractive upperclassmen die on your watch.

“Okay, sit up, come on, just for a second,” you say, gently propping him upright with one arm while pressing the bottle into his hands.

To your mild surprise, he drinks obediently, eyes fluttering shut with every sip like water was the most spiritual experience he’s ever had.

You smile a little despite yourself. “There we go. Good job. See? You’re still alive.”

You set the bottle down.

Only to be yanked by the wrist a second later as you let out a surprised, “Whoop—!” And stumble forward—right into him.

He wraps his arm around you like it was part of his plan all along, his face now way, way too close, that ridiculous sleepy smile on his lips.

“I got you,” he mumbles.

You freeze.

Brain, Critical error.

Heart, Left the chat.

Entire body, Flushed like a broken toilet.

You stay frozen, hovering awkwardly over him while his arm stays wrapped around your wrist like it belonged there.

His grip isn’t tight—just secure enough to say don’t go yet.

“You’re warm again,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded but locked onto yours.

You open your mouth.

To say what, you have no idea—something stupid probably, like “so is the room” or “that’s called body heat, genius.”

But before you can embarrass yourself further, Xavier shifts, just enough so he’s sitting up properly.

And then he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

Not with that sleepy, slurred haze from earlier, but something quieter.

Steadier.

Like there’s still a buzz behind his eyes, sure, but his words… they come out clear.

“I meant it, you know,” he says softly.

You blink. “Meant what?”

His thumb brushes lightly along the inside of your wrist, absent-minded and devastating. “What I said back there. About being in love with you.”

The air in your dorm goes still.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears, and you’re suddenly aware of everything—his closeness, the smell of his cologne, the fact that he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in this world.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” he continues, voice quiet. “You’re the first person I look for in a room. You make everything feel… lighter. I didn’t mean to say it like that tonight—like a drunk idiot.”

You swallow.

You can’t think.

You can only feel.

And you feel everything.

“But it’s true,” he finishes. “All of it. I love you.”

And there it is.

Real. Sober. Out in the open.

No laughter. No slurring.

Just Xavier, slightly flushed and slightly unsteady—but honest.

Your chest tightens. Your cheeks burn.

You don’t know what to say.

But he’s still watching you, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

And suddenly, it hits you.

You’re not screaming internally anymore.

You’re melting.

He watches you for a moment longer, as if waiting—maybe for a response, maybe just to make sure you heard him.

But when you don’t bolt out of the room or push him off the bed, something in his expression softens.

Then he smiles.

That small, satisfied, heart-wrecking smile like he just crossed the finish line of something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

Without another word, he tugs gently at your wrist, pulling you into him. You stumble forward—again—and this time, he wraps both arms around you in a warm, grounding hug.

One that’s a little loose, a little sleepy, but completely sincere.

And then?

He flops backward on your bed, dragging you halfway down with him.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles into your shoulder, already halfway to dreaming, his breath slow and even.

Just like that—confession dropped, walls down, chaos behind him—Xavier falls asleep holding you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You lie there, heart pounding, brain fried, limbs refusing to move.

Because you just heard the words I love you.

And now, you’re the pillow of the boy who said them.

Morning after Long Work Days

CONTENT: a little suggestive ... which it is not as this will get a Part 2. Fluff, sleepy weepy. Mainly FLUFF and Comfort...

The first rays of sun slipped through the closed curtains illuminating the room in a warm yellow orange glow. I have been up since a long time but not able to move or shift and my arms and legs have numbed out by now. Why you may ask…

Well, the problem is, there is this 6ft boyfriend of mine practically sleeping on top of me and I don’t have a heart to wake him up or move him and just … I have giving up at this point. This has been going on since 4:30 am, but one thing I can say, he looked peaceful enough for me to just …… (deep breathe) appreciate him.

The sunlight hit his face just at the right angle to illuminate his features, Xavier lays on my chest, like an ethereal god. The last few days were hard for both of us with the amount of wanderer appearance and night duties we both pulled through, barely resting and just going on and on. And looking at both of us walking around like zombies at the association, Jenna at last called us to her office and told us to get a leave. Both me and Xavier didn’t remember how we returned home or if we ate anything or even bathe. I just remember somehow, I got those leather straps and work clothes off and just wear one of Xavier’s hoodies and shorts and falling on bed, and then as I drifted off, I did feel a oh so light kiss on my forehead and being enveloped in a warm embraced and soon I was out like a light.

And now, here I am being crushed by my 6ft boyfriend Xav, who looks much better and I am happy that he got is much deserved rest. This sweetheart of mine couldn’t even take a proper nap in past 1 week. Looking at his face, his mouth just slightly open, his chest going up and down sync with my heartbeat, his arms hanging loosey around me, legs dangling off and his face on my neck. It felt good to be trust like this by a person. A person, even if everyone says “Xavier is the best hunter out there, Xavier this, Xavier that…” treating him as something dangerous, or a lethal weapon, but in the end of the day, he is too a person who needs to rest which he doesn’t get much due to his active hearing or alertness. Therefore, seeing this idiot of my bf, forgetting the world and sleeping soundly like a baby on top of me, yes, he a person to me first before he is the best hunter in Linkon.

Thoughts like these were running wild in my head as I slowly caressed his head and ran my fingers through his hair. Letting out a heavy sigh and deep in my thoughts, I didn’t feel him shift closer to me until I felt a soft and feather like kiss on my neck followed by him nuzzling his nose and sniffing me.

“Stop that brain of yours from overthinking, its going to break soon enough.” He said softly.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I asked him letting my fingers graze his back, along his spine which sent a shiver down his body as he shifted again and at last faced me.

“Why you up now?” he said nuzzling into my chest like a literal cat and a laughter bubbled out of me.

“OH, my handsome sweet pie, love of my life, cutie of a boyfriend.” I said pampering him with kisses on his hair and forehead... getting cute aggression just by looking at him and how soft and cuddly he looked.

“Ahhhhh ahhh…. Nooooooo…. Not yet” he said with a shriek as I attack him and embrace the shit out of him, murmuring words of nothing and everything, and he tried to protest that he didn’t like being pampering, but THIS IDIOT LIKED IT. I knew it. He acted as he repelled it but leaned more closer to me as I continued on with my playful assault on him. And he did let me, until I found my arms being pinned on my side.

“Seriously Xav…” I looked at him. Those night blue eyes looking right at me. There was a gleam to it, a liveliness to it which was gone this week. I let out a deep sigh, kissing his crown saying “Welcome back my prince charming” with a small smile.

He stilled for a moment, before relaxing again, “Why welcome me back? I was here…”

“Yeah, you were, physically, but mentally you were exhausted as f… and ya” I said caressing his head and scratching his scalp lightly ‘but that liveliness and happiness was not there… which are back again as you … I hope you did get some good sleep?”

“SOME GOOD SLEEP? No... I had the best sleep of my life today honestly. “He said with a laugh and at last rolled off me. I grunted slightly shifting to my side and saw him looking at me.

“What?”

“It looks painful” he said with a amused face.

I playfully hit his head ‘Its all your fault but ya ... I don’t mind it” I smiled at him.

He embraced me again kissing my nose and then my lips before I stopped him. “Not now… you smell and I don’t remember if we brushed out teeth or what not … Sorry”

“You denied me KISSES? And even EARLY IN THE MORNING? I have been betrayed.” He said with a exaggerated sigh “Betrayed by my own star… what a terrifying thing to wake up to. This is not my reality. Come here … lets sleep again and wake up in our reality where you let me kiss youuuuu” he said trying to hug me again but I slipped past his arms and sat up.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T GET UPPPP…... Plweaseeeeeee”

I let out a laugh, “Idiot… get up now. We didn’t bathe yesterday and I feel dirty all over.”

He looks at me with his classic smirk… “Are you perhaps suggesting something to me sweetheart?”

“MAYBE… but my idiot of a boyfriend won’t get up so…” I trailed off and got up from the bed to go to the washroom.

Soon after, I heard a knock on the washroom door and then saw Xavier’s face poke out, “Is the offer still valid yet?’

..........................................................................................

Sooooo.. even if i am swamped with college works due to exams and having writers block since forever, I made a line art of xavier yesterday night and

EARLY IN THE DAMMASS MORNING MY INSPIRATION HIT ME LIKE A SNOWSTROM

Hopefully you guys will this 😅, wanted to write a fanfic for so long and I at last did...

Might post this on AO3 🫣😵‍💫

But whatever

ENJOYYYY

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XAVIER. ꒱‎

lazy humping. ⋆ grinding yourself on him. ⋆ missionary w your legs closed. ⋆ freakydeaky. ⋆ thigh fucking. ⋆ kissing & eaing you out. ⋆ to your satisfaction. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ exhibitionism.

SYLUS. ꒱‎

taking it w no complaints. ⋆ handsy when handling you. ⋆ size kink. ⋆ using your throat to his liking. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ cute girl treatment. ⋆ chained & ruined. ⋆ had to add this in.

ZAYNE. ꒱‎

riding him in the bathtub. ⋆ tease me, baby. ⋆ clit rubs. ⋆ lingerie fucking. ⋆ late night heat. ⋆ in the shower. ⋆ undressing & stripping you down. ⋆ blowjob in cute bunny ears.

RAFAYEL. ꒱‎

stay still. ⋆ kitchen counter. ⋆ backshots & the plushies witnessing. ⋆ fucking you into the mattress. ⋆ fingering selection. ⋆ stretching your holes out for fun. ⋆ a wins a win.

Xavier Head-canons

• Hi Pookies! Just know this just for fun and I want more friends who enjoy Love and Deepspace!

No minors! This is Female Reader x Xavier!

Xavier is the type of boyfriend who is willing to spend hours at a bookstore with you. Hand in hand as you two drift into different aslies. You both gravitate toward a book that neither of you two has read but have heard much about. “I think you’ll love it,” you say as you hand him a philosophical book. He sneaks a kiss at your kind gesture and holds the book you picked out for him. The constant connection you both share for the love of novels keeps the conversation going. Passing by the spicy romance, you can’t help to pull a book out of curiosity. Flipping through pages of the book you land on a erotic part. You read a glimpse of the erotic part feeling the need to finish it. You could feel Xavier behind you reading the page. He lets out a small “mhm” as he his hand goes to your waist. You can’t help but giggle as you quickly close the book. “You know you should buy that book. Maybe we can try a few things out.” He says as his warm breath goes to your neck. You playfully roll your eyes as you grab his hand to go buy both books.

You were tossing and turning the entire night. Not being able to sleep even with Xavier next to you. You sigh as you sit up, grabbing your phone to check the time. The bright screen making you groan, seeing how late it was. You decide why not just get out of bed to watch some videos. As you’re about to get up Xavier realizes you’re awake. “What’s wrong? You can’t sleep?” He says softly with his eyes trying not to shut. “Yeah and I have work in the morning.” You say pulling the blankets on you again. Xavier notice your frustrations and smiles. He walks over to his small piano he has in his room. Your eyes follow him as you were curious what he was going to do. Xavier gives you a soft smile as he begins to play the piano. The melody is gentle, like a lullaby.

ME AND XAVIER HEHE

Zayne is so caring help I love him

As of now after seeing the cat boy memories, I will right for love and deep space. (all the main boys except for raf…i don’t like him..)

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9:35 pm 8/21/2021. UPDATED: 4:50 pm 11/01/2024

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ABOUT MYSELF

•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• •┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• •┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈•

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My name is Nessie!! I am a 21+ afab bisexual female <3. Welcome to my corner of the internet! Coffee addict, book lover, and gacha game enthusiast! Cat Lover!!!!! Engineering Major, even though I enjoy literature much more. I will write anything under the sun!!!! (As long as it's reasonable of course :3)

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Requests are OPEN!!

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The fandoms I will/might write for:

Hoyoverse games (HSR, Genshin, ZZZ)

Wuthering Waves

DC (Mostly BatFam and Teen Titans)

Love and Deepspace

May add more stuff as I discover my interests!!

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Rules for my lil' elves!!!

I write fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort. Most of my fanfics will be x fem!reader or gn!reader, but I also write for fandom ships ✮⋆˙

All the characters I write for are 18+ and above ✮⋆˙

May write yandere upon request, but I am not into it that very much ✮⋆˙

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Well that's all for now!! I will start posting from tomorrow onwards and gradually take in requests ✧｡٩(ˊᗜˋ )و✧*｡

I will be looking forward to see what everyone comes up with in the requests box!! ฅ/ᐠ˶> ﻌ<˶ᐟ\ฅ

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just fell to my knees

hello! good day to youuu, can i make a request for the lads men? in which reader is not the mc and here's the prompt: having to beg them to do something with you then seeing them doing it with mc willingly, sorry english is not my first language but pleaaaseeee 😭 i love some angst.

Bitter

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Watching the one you love partake in what you once pleaded to share—a quiet betrayal—feels like an arrow through the heart, swift and merciless. (angst, no comfort)

A/N: Thank you for the request, it came out more as a drabble. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

What a bitter, gutting thing it was—to stand in the shadows and watch him shine for someone else. To see the light in his eyes, the easy laughter, the quiet devotion as he did for her what he had never done for you.

The one thing you once begged for. The one thing he had denied you.

But not her. Never her.

She was fate’s beloved, the one woven from the same celestial thread as him, bound to him in ways you never could be. You had always told yourself to be rational, to be understanding. Xavier came with a past. He came with baggage.

And inside that baggage, nestled close to his heart, was her.

The woman you would envy until the world turned to dust.

And yet—how could you ever bring yourself to hate her? When she was made of kindness, of soft edges and warm light? When she looked at you with nothing but affection, oblivious to the ruin she left in her wake? She was an angel. A blessing. A curse.

And fate, it seemed, had always been on her side.

So there they were, walking side by side, woven together so seamlessly it was almost poetic. Almost cruel. Her bags in his hands, the weight of them carried so effortlessly—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, when you had asked for the same—just a simple day together, just a moment of his time—he had sighed, shaken his head, told you he was too tired. That work was too much. That he simply couldn’t.

But now, watching him with her, you couldn’t help but wonder—did she take his exhaustion away? Did her presence breathe new life into him in a way you never could?

The answer settled deep in your bones, cold and unrelenting.

Your friend beside you said nothing, only looking at you with that quiet, suffocating pity that made your stomach turn. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing to soften the truth you had known all along.

You were not his first thought in the morning. You were not the name on his lips when he passed a garden of wildflowers. You were not the presence lingering in his mind when the world grew quiet.

And you never would be.

You had spent so long fighting against it. Xavier loves me. He chose me. The words had been your lifeline, a fragile, trembling thing you whispered into the silence. But even your friends never seemed convinced.

And now, neither were you.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You turned away.

No confrontation. No desperate pleas for an explanation that would only come laced with half-truths and empty reassurances. What good was honesty when it had never been yours to begin with?

When he came home that night, his lips still curved with the ghost of a smile, he found an emptiness he had never felt before. Your things, your presence—gone, as if you had never been there at all.

And in your place, only a single note remained.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Because clearly, it was never me."

And Xavier, poor Xavier, would stand there, reading those words over and over, grasping at the fraying edges of something he had never truly held onto.

But then again—

Xavier had never noticed his wrongdoings.

Not until there was nothing left but the weight of his own ruin.

Zayne

Zayne—or Dr. Zayne, as she called him—had always been a good man. A gentleman in every sense. Caring, affectionate, endlessly considerate.

But never for you.

His tenderness felt practiced, his affections routine. As if he wasn’t loving you, but fulfilling some unspoken obligation. A kindness given not out of devotion, but out of mere habit.

And you had tried to ignore it. Swallowed your doubts, convinced yourself you were overthinking.

Until you saw them together.

Her.

The one fate had tied him to. The one who never had to ask for his attention, because it had always belonged to her.

Her laughter lit up rooms before she even stepped inside. Her eyes gleamed like sunlight catching on water—brilliant, hypnotic, impossible to look away from. And neither could he.

And then, there was the picture.

A simple post, one she likely uploaded without a second thought, oblivious to the quiet devastation it would bring.

There she was, sitting in his office. Smiling. At ease.

Sharing lunch with him.

Something you had never been allowed to do.

You had asked once—just to drop by, to see him, to spend even a sliver of time together in the place he spent most of his days. But he had refused, brushing you off with a gentle but firm, “I don’t want distractions.”

And yet, there she was, sitting across from him, urging him to eat the food she had made, as if she had every right to be there. And maybe she did.

They had known each other forever. That was what you told yourself—Of course, they’re close. Of course, they understand each other in ways I never will. You had tried to accept it. To be understanding.

But then you saw the way he looked at her in the picture.

The softness in his eyes. The quiet, unguarded devotion.

Like she was the only one who could unravel him, the only one who could slip past his carefully built walls.

You had spent so long trying to do the same, but you never even made a crack.

And so, that was the moment you made a promise to yourself.

You would not be someone’s second choice. You would not collect the scraps of his affection while she—effortless, radiant, destined—was given everything you had ever wanted.

And Zayne noticed.

He noticed in the silence. In the missed calls that went unanswered, the messages left on read. In the bouquets left wilting at your doorstep, the petals curling at the edges.

Roses.

Her favorite flowers.

Not yours.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Zayne was never the gentleman you thought he was.

Or perhaps, he was. Just never for you.

Or maybe—maybe it was fate itself that was cruel.

Rafayel

Something inside you cracked, splintering like fragile seashells beneath careless hands—shattered beyond repair, beyond mending.

It wasn’t a sudden break. No, it had been slow, creeping in like the tide, eroding the edges of your love bit by bit, pulling pieces of you away before you could even notice you were unraveling.

And now, the final wave had come, and it had taken everything with it.

Because there he was—your Rafayel—kneeling beside her, smiling in a way you had longed to be the cause of.

The sight alone stole the breath from your lungs.

You had spent so long pretending not to notice. Ignoring the way his gaze always sought her out, the way his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to her. You had swallowed the ache, told yourself it didn’t matter.

"That’s just the way he is," you had whispered, time and time again.

But it had never been the way he was.

It had only ever been the way he was with you.

And now, you knew why.

Rafayel hated cats.

You remembered the way his nose had scrunched when you had once tried to feed a stray by the docks, the way he had flicked his fingers as if to ward the creature away. “Little beasts,” he had muttered, half-amused, half-disgusted. “I don’t understand how you humans tolerate them.”

You had laughed then, nudging him playfully. “You’re just jealous they’re cuter than you.”

And yet—here he was.

Crouched beside her, cradling a trembling kitten in careful, delicate hands, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His touch—usually teasing, fleeting, always just out of reach—was steady, warm, tender.

For her.

Not for you.

Something cold curled around your ribs, sinking deep, making it harder to breathe.

It was never about the kitten.

It was never about the things he couldn’t do.

It was about the things he never wanted to do for you.

And watching him now, so unguarded, so effortlessly kind, made you wish you had never met him at all.

Rage and sorrow burned through your veins, curling beneath your skin like a sickness. You wanted to rip that stupidly charming smile from his face, wanted to demand why he had never looked at you like that.

But there was no point.

So you turned and walked away.

Ignoring reality, just as you had once tried to ignore fate.

But fate never ignored you.

And something in the air told you—Rafayel wouldn’t either.

Sylus

Sylus had never been an easy man to love.

Sharp edges, cold precision—every move calculated, every word spoken with intent. He was not a man swayed by sentiment, nor was he one to entertain trivial affections.

You had known this from the start.

And yet, knowing had never stopped you from wanting.

So you learned to take what little he gave you—stolen moments in the dead of night, whispered conversations where he let the ice thaw just enough for you to believe there was something beneath it. But always, always, he kept his distance, his affections measured, restrained.

"This is who I am," he had told you once, when you asked why he never let himself soften. "I don’t have the luxury of being gentle."

You had believed him.

Until now.

Until you saw him, standing there in the dim glow of a high-rise restaurant, his head tilted ever so slightly toward her. The woman fate had written into his story, the one whose presence seemed to unravel him in ways you never could.

His fated one.

And in front of them, two untouched glasses of wine.

Wine.

The very thing he had refused to share with you.

"I don’t drink with others," he had said once, his voice clipped, final. "It's a pleasure reserved for my time alone."

But now, here he was. Sharing a glass with her. His fingers resting idly against the stem of his glass, his expression unreadable yet undeniably present. He was here. Fully. With her.

A man who never entertained distractions, utterly enthralled.

The way he looked at her—it was something different. Something you had never been granted. There was no calculation in his gaze, no careful restraint. No cold, distant amusement.

Just quiet acceptance. As if she had been meant to sit beside him all along.

And that was when you knew.

You could tear yourself apart, try to become everything he had ever wanted, and it still wouldn’t matter. Because fate had already made the choice for him.

And it wasn’t you.

Still, you lingered a moment longer, letting the pain settle, letting it carve its lesson deep into your ribs.

And then, without a word, you turned and left.

Because you, too, could learn to be cold.

Caleb

Caleb had always been warm. That was the problem.

He had a way of making you believe you belonged there—tucked into his arms, held close by quiet promises and easy smiles. He made you think you mattered.

But there was always her.

His childhood best friend.

Not bound by fate, not chosen by some cosmic force—just there. Always. In every story he told, in every old memory that made his eyes soften with something you could never quite reach. The one who had been with him before you, the one who had held his hand through storms you’d never even known existed.

And you told yourself it wasn’t a competition.

Until the night you saw them.

The neon lights of the karaoke bar cast the whole street in a soft glow, music and laughter spilling from inside as you walked past—until something, someone, made your steps falter.

Through the open doors, past the booths and glowing screens, you saw him.

Caleb.

Standing there, microphone in hand, singing.

With her.

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

"I don’t like singing in front of people," he had told you once, shaking his head with a sheepish smile when you begged him to join you for just one song. "It’s embarrassing. I just—I can’t, okay?"

But now, here he was.

Swaying slightly, smiling as their voices blended together in a song you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t perfect—his voice cracked in places, he missed a beat or two—but that didn’t matter. Because he was trying. Because he was enjoying it.

Because she made him feel safe enough to do what he had never done for you.

Your stomach twisted.

It had never been about singing.

It had been about you.

You should have walked away then. Should have swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back, should have spared yourself the cruel spectacle of watching them.

But you didn’t.

You stayed long enough to see the way he laughed when she nudged him playfully. The way he looked at her, unguarded, free. The way she reached for his hand without hesitation—because she knew it would always be there, waiting for her.

And for the first time, you realized—maybe you had never been holding his hand at all. Maybe you had only been grasping at the space he left behind.

Something cold settled in your chest.

You didn’t wait for him to notice you.

You just turned, and left, without a sound.

And Caleb, too caught up in a song meant for someone else, never even saw you go.

BASHFUL DAWN

Xavier is exhausted after fighting against Soren and reliving his past. You try to help. [XAVIER X READER FLUFF]

THIS POST CONTAINS: Xavier X gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, Xavier is implied to have self-esteem issues, talking about feelings, cuddling and snuggling, my take on "Voyage of the Outcast" story chapter.

Enjoy.

BASHFUL DAWN

After the report of the college incident and the device left by Soren, Xavier had been missing from your life. The last day you two spoke seemed like a dream now, when he promised he would tell you everything.

Xavier always lies. Bile rises to your throat right after you wake up in the morning, plagued by the memories of your (boy)friend. Even though Xavier lived literally on the floor above yours, it seemed an invisible wall had been put between you.

You knocked on his door the following afternoon, but no response. You hadn't seem him in the Hunters Association for work either, Captain Jenna's brow furrowed in concern, but brushing it off like a "well earned rest". When you left the apartment to feed the stray cat, there was already a bowl of food in its telltale place. You visit Philos, inquiring poor Jeremiah to where his friend might have been. The man was sweating cold, saying he didn't know. Things reaching a breaking point when you visited your garden, the one you saved from a Wanderer oh so long ago.

It really felt like he was gone from your life, barely any signal of life to say he was there at all.

After a few days of trying to pick yourself up (Tara truly was a wonderful friend to hear your rants and watch your comfort movies), you see a familiar bedhead leaving a convenience store with five bowls of hotpot in hand.

"Xavier?" His lustrous blond hair was now matted and lifeless. His blue, shiny eyes did not reflect any light anymore, and his lovely white sweater, the one you stole and wore so many times, was almost falling from his shoulders.

He looked terrible.

"Hi." He says, still not meeting your gaze. You wanted to yell, scream, grab him by his arms and ask where the hell he has been. Even so, seeing him like this made your anger deflate like a sad balloon. "Are you okay?" You ask.

Xavier lifts his head, shocked. Guess he wasn't expecting that reaction either. "I was the one who ghosted you. I'm the one who is supposed to be making amends." He concludes and falls silent again. "I'm sorry. I keep messing up."

This version of your lover was nothing short of terrible. You had never seem him look so defeated. "Why didn't you reply to me texts? My calls? I dropped by your place so many times." Street lights and car honks were all around you, but you coudn't find yourself to care. In fact, your world seemed just too quiet.

"Let's go to my place. I guess I owe you an explanation." No more words were exchanged during the walk, and maybe you prefered it that way. The last thing you want is to make a fuss in front of the whole building.

The inside of Xavier's apartment was messy. Some dirty dishes here and there, unfinished books scattered around and no calm music playing. His trustworthy cleaning robot, the one he would not stop talking about a while back, layed gathering dust in a corner. The entire place seemed pretty much unrecognizable.

Xavier put some water to boil for his hotpots and sat beside you on the fluffly couch. "The first thing I should do is apologize. No one should go missing like that, especially after what we went through." You hum. A sign for him to keep going. "I tought things would be better if I tried to solve them by myself. No matter what, I want you to be safe. And happy."

"What makes you think I don't want to be part of this? Of finding things out with you?" You squish his face gently between your hands. He goes limp in your hold, content. "It's dangerous, and I don't even know if my plan will work at all."

"If you tell me what the plan is, then I can help you." You say matter-of-factly and raise a brow. Xavier's face scrunches and he laughs. His voice was a little hoarse, but beautiful as always. How you missed that.

"What do I have to say to make you understand we are in this together? Don't think you're getting rid of me so easily." He closes the distance between you, holding all of your body close against his. "I would never want to get rid of you."

Your lovely silence was interrupted by the sound of metal clanking against each other and the smell of something burning. "Xavier! The water for the hotpot!" You both look at each other with newfound horror before sprinting to the kitchen.

Some things never change.

-

The hotpots were delicious, even if you scolded him for eating instant food for a week straight. You both made a promise to clean the apartment on the following day and start putting things in order. Slowly.

"Thank you for being here. And not being mad." You think a little before replying. "I am mad, I won't deny. But I also like you a lot and don't want to lose what we have. If you promise me to be more open about what you want and what you need, we'll be alright."

"Okay. I'll try." Xavier takes a deep breath. "I love you." Thank goodness your boyfriend didn't have a phone right now, because your face was priceless: eyes open and mouth agape. "I love you too."

You two end up sharing a bed that night. His room was messy like the rest of the house, but you promised to fix it in the morning. As so, all the lights were turned off and you hugged Xavier from under the covers. Everything seemed alright in the world.

When the sun arrived the next morning, you two were still holding each other close. No matter how dark the night, there would always be stars to guide the way, and the morning would surely arrive. You hold Xavier a little tighter and drift back to sleep.

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MAKE UP TO YOU

XAVIER'S "FLUFF ATTACK" INSPIRED FANFIC; F!MC AND M!XAVIER;

The following post has sexual content! Includes: kissing, praise kink, nipple teasing, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex. All characters in this fanfic are consenting adults. Proceed carefully and do not attempt to recreate these situations in real life.

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This is my first smut fanfic and comments are appreciated!

To be fair, it took you a second too long to notice Xavier went missing. There were so many beautiful cat butlers around you, fighting for your attention until your vision was crowded with car ears and tails.

They weren't what (or who) you were looking for. But no matter how many times your eyes scanned the room, the messy blond hair of your lover was nowhere to be seen. Where could he be?

Your train of tought was interrupted when another fluffly head plopped beside you. A young man with black fur looked intensely into you, approaching very slowly.

"Sorry, I'm not interested." This was not the first (and you suspected not the last) time a cat paced around the room looking for attention. It was your idea to have this kind of date with Xavier, but now you regretted it terribly.

The man's fluffy ears went down, and he quietly got up to be somewhere else. You sighed in relief. Why wasn't Xavier with you? Did he find a caretaker he liked more for this event? The tought made you sad.

You get up and try to sneak outside. The afternoon sun greets your skin in a pleasant way, and the chirp of birds is a nice change of pace compared to the consistent buzz of the ar conditioner.

Soft sunrays illuminate a head you know very well. He was hidding behind a big bush full of flowers, and you almost didn't see him if not for the lovely tail creeping behind it.

"Hello, Xavier. I was looking for you." His ears flicked like butterflies. He definitely heard you, but didn't turn around. Was he... upset?

"Why are you out here? Too many people inside?" You gently run your hands through his lower back, creeping up until you squeeze his shoulders and reach his new cat ears. Your fingertips explore the skin from base to tip, and Xavier shudders.

"Oh." He begins. "So now you remember to be gentle with my ears." The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. Right at the beggining of the evening, you might had tugged at his ears a little too strongly.

You mutter a "oh, no" and your caresses stop. When your lover turns around, his blush spreads from his cheek to beneath his collarbones. Tail moving like a whip behind him, he inquiries:"We don't stop halfway when it comes to these things, right?"

"If I pet your ears the way you like, will you forgive me?" A smile creeps on his face. He positions closer to you and lowers his head. "I am sorry for tugging at your beautiful ears earlier, babe" He almost headbutts your hand and comes closer. "You are so cute like this I lost my sense of strenght." He is gasping in your hold. "Can I make up to you?"

"Yes. Yes yes please." His hand finds yours, and they slowly travel to his chest. You snuggle your palm between his pecs and he moans quietly. You look down for a moment and see his hard-on through his breefs.

"Can my lovely cat butler answer me something?" You move your fingers slightly to the side and find his erect nipples. You gently tease them through his shirt while he gasps, pupils overpowering the blue in his eyes. "Where you jealous?"

Xavier gags. "No." He tries to distract you by reaching under your own shirt. Desire was already pooling in your lower stomach since you heard his beautiful sounds.

"Then why did you run away? Did I neglect my most precious butler?" He stops and you use this as an opportunity to run your hands lower, holding his waist. "Y-your most precious? Don't you have others?" There is no bite behind his question, just hurt.

"Can I tell you a secret?" You palm at his erection. "You're my favorite." He moans louder this time. "And I can show you."

In the blink of an eye, you remove his pants and bend down. "Oh God, right there..." He guides your head as you give kitten licks across his shaft. You moisture the slick and saliva before attempting to put his lenght in your mouth.

"I don't want you to spend time with the other stupid cat butlers anymore." He hiccups every time you suck his dick and there are tears trailing down his eyes. "I want you to be with me and only me." He gives a few shallow thrusts in your mouth and reaches his peak.

"Okay." You reply after (almost) recovering your voice and your breath. In a second, you are wrestled to the ground and feel a hot mouth on yours. Xavier rubs his angry pink erection on your stomach, still seeking relief.

He tries to grind onto you and lower your pants at the same time. As graceless as that may be, he is holding your thighs and approaching your soaking core in no time. "I want to taste my favourite thing too."

You scream when he begins to eat you out. His saliva and your juices make wet slurping sounds echo through the garden. He insistently runs his tongue flat both against your entrance and your clit. You won't last long if he keeps going like this.

"Xavie, you're still hard. You don't have to do this if you don't wan-" He interrupts you by making out fervorously with your pussy. You look into his eyes and he sucks on your clit when you do.

You explode in his mouth and he drinks it like it's the air he needs to breathe. There's no way of being sure wich way is up or down while you ride the waves of your orgasm.

"Can we go one more? I need you." His erection nudges you. Both your lips meet gently this time, but that too becomes desperate as you cling to each other.

"Yes. I would never deny my star anything." He lines up at your entrance and gathers moisture from your release. His head slowly enters and you're already out of breath. "You're so special to me, you know that?"

Halfway. There's a drop of sweat running through your forehead. "You feel so good missed you so much wanna fuck you so bad." He mumbles as he tries not to go all the way in one thrust. Your heat envelops him so deliciously.

"I need you too, Xavier. So hurry up and just-" You meet his thrust and he bottoms out with a groan. "So full. Wanna be so good for you!"

He begins to move and there are stars under your eyelids. "I also have to tell you a secret." He confesses. His deft fingers run to your clit and begin playing with it.

"You're my favorite too." Relief washes over you. Of course Xavier loves you and vice versa, but hurting him is the last thing on your mind, even if inevitable.

"No going away." He commands. "I want you to feel this. To be here all the time with me". He is being such a bully, cock nuzzled deep inside and trying to split you in half. The way he kisses and sucks every patch of skin he can find is such a contrast to what you two are doing.

"My star, I'm close-" He gasps and digs his hands on your hips to ground himself. "Can I finish inside?"

"Yes, come inside. I want you to fill me up!" The tought and Xavier's thrust are also sending you over the edge quicker than what you would like to admit. His dick twitches for the last time and your insides are painted white.

The feel of his release pumping inside is the last push it takes for you to reach your second orgasm. Both of you scream as your peak flows through.

When you regain your senses, Xavier's body is coiled around you like a snake. His tail is also holding one of your legs in place. You hear soft snores coming from the person beside you, and his temperature is slightly warmer than yours.

"Xavier? My love, we have to get up." His ears flicker like butterflies, but he doesn't open his eyes. "It's already night."

Stars shimmer above you. It is possible to discern some constellations, even close to Linkon's city pollution. "We can take a nap at home." That seems to be a good enough argument for Xavier, since he opens his eyes and carries you in his arms in a flash.

"I can't believe inviting you for a nap is the best way for you to do something." He quirks his eyebrows in a mischievious way. "I can also be persuaded with snacks."

Of course.

Even if, eventually, you will have to go back to your life in Linkon, and Xavier won't have his beautiful cat features anymore, you are sure your relationship is stronger because of the moments you shared. As long as you can figure out what to do. Together.