Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.
Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader
Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex
Word Count: 12,000~
Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.
AO3 Link
You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.
Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand. Â Youâre oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol.Â
âMission completed. We should report back.â
You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.
âI want to test out my guns some more.â
His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head.Â
âThere will be more Wanderers tomorrow,â he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. âLetâs go home.â
This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say?Â
Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns.Â
You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna â pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavierâs reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners â then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.
Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago.Â
Itâs rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your familyâs death.Â
Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given youâd walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home.Â
This path you go along every day has become special in that time. Itâs full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did.Â
In that way, you were a fortunate person.Â
It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when youâre fighting Wanderers, youâre not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. Itâs safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions.Â
Therefore, youâre unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. Heâs always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.
âChin up, Xavier. Weâre almost there.â
âIâm exhausted,â he says.Â
You donât need to hear him say it to understand. You think youâve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.
âMy next solution is carrying you by the way.â
A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. âI donât think you could carry me.â
âYou dare doubt me?â Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldnât mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. âIâm very strong.â
âI think it would make more sense if I carried you.â
âI can walk.â
âI donât see why that matters,â he says with a yawn, and you smile.
âAre you sure you wonât drop me?â
âIf itâs a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then Iâll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,â he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesnât have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels.Â
You thought he was joking when he said heâd carry you home but that doesnât stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline.Â
His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck.Â
âAre you alright?â he asks.
Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he canât see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.
âJust hungry.â
For his part, Xavier doesnât question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what youâre in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.
You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you donât recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.
âHow about that one?â you ask.
Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. âItâs not that great.â
âHow do you know?â
âI tried them out.â
You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. âWithout me?â
âI was going to bring you something back, but they werenât very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.â
You know he canât see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him. Â
âAre you asking me to cook dinner for you? Iâm quite exhausted after all that running around,â you tell him sarcastically.Â
He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, âIâll cook for you today.â
Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If thereâs one thing after all these months you learned, itâs that Xavier is aâŚcreative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didnât mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, heâd be in the kitchen much more often.Â
âOn second thought, Iâll cook.â
âYou still donât trust me,â he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. âIâll handle the cold stuff, and Iâll leave the meat to you.â
âDeal,â you say, nuzzling your head against his neck.Â
When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done.Â
You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. Itâs routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving.Â
It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them.Â
So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later.Â
âIf you feed them, theyâll never leave.â
You canât help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birdsâ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that heâd miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. âI have experience with things that donât leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.â
Itâs hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. âLast I checked you moved in with me.â
That silences you. Thereâs no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet.Â
The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you.Â
With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.
This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and itâs smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavierâs room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser.Â
Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. Itâs ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.
Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You donât protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.
It doesnât take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you.Â
The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. Thereâs absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesnât say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day.Â
With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush.Â
Itâs times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. Itâs also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you donât truly know a lot about him.
Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. Youâve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. Itâs true that you once accepted the fact youâd never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in.Â
Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didnât question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldnât give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside.Â
So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, youâre not surprised.
Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. Itâs a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.
Itâs incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he wonât tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still arenât close to him in the way you want.Â
Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous.Â
                                       Â
Thereâs only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings.Â
It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime.Â
By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, youâd nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. Youâd never get anywhere if you didnât face him.Â
Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. Itâs still dark in the house; you hadnât bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness.Â
For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side.Â
You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar.Â
Itâs a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, youâd immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief.Â
You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door.Â
It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day.Â
Youâre thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants.Â
In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, thereâs a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didnât bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time.Â
Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. Itâs a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than youâve been alive.Â
It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. Itâs hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association.Â
âI didnât think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,â you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. âYouâre terrible at taking care of yourself. Canât cook. Canât stay awake. Canât tell someone when youâre going out. I bet you didnât even lock the door when you came in. âŚWhat if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?â
You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didnât complain, youâd get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him.Â
He looks so peaceful.
Thereâs no tension, no crease to his expression. Itâd be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it werenât for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.
âIâll let you sleep, but youâre getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I wonât cook breakfast for you,â you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. âIâll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, Iâm letting Jeremiah have first pick!â
With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs.Â
Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. Itâs no use. Itâs all empty threats. Youâll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and youâll fold just like origami paper. Youâll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And youâd never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else.Â
Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavierâs personality works. Heâs reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and heâs known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work.Â
They didnât see. They didnât see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they werenât aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.
It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it.Â
âYouâre lucky I like you,â you mumble to him.Â
As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop.Â
The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. Itâs a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when heâs asleep.
You donât let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. Itâs warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.
With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how youâll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you donât make it two steps before thereâs a tug at your arm.
You yelp as youâre pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. Youâre left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable. Â
His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. Thatâs the look of a predator, of the associationâs strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that youâre the prey.Â
Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isnât until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.
âWhy worry about Wanderers following me home when youâre so much scarier.â
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time youâve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesnât hurt.
He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. Youâre unsure what heâs planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage.Â
The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, âI donât remember giving you permission to kiss me.â
Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. Itâs a notion you canât appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.
ââŚYou were awake the whole time.â
He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didnât face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at youâŚ
âNot the whole time.â
With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. âThatâs not the point!â
With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, youâre able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ thatâs currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin.Â
You donât like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you canât think of a word more fitting for the way heâs treating you, is too one-sided.Â
âIt was on the cheek,â you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. âIt was friendly.â
To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and thereâs a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away.Â
ââŚIs that what it was?â
You nod. âI wasnâtâŚgoing to do anything else.â
Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and thereâs a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer.Â
âIn that case, is it okay to return the favor?â
He doesnât give you the time to answer. Heâs already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as youâre squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his.Â
âWait!â
Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesnât dissipate.Â
âWhat's wrong?â he asks with a sigh. Youâre sure itâs not a true question. âAm I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.â
The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbitâs trap.
âIâthatâs!â
âSo, you were misbehaving,â he concludes from your sheepishness. âI guess that means I need to punish you instead.â He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. ââŚI didnât think you were that sensitive there.â
Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where youâre more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.
âDonât hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?â
You can hardly think of a response to that. Itâs true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you donât notice his hold on your wrist weakening. Â
âMy weaknessââÂ
Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.
âIâm kidding,â Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. âI was only curious as to what your reaction would be.â
The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. âYouâre cruel.â
âAm I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,â he reminds you.Â
âI wouldnât have to if you didnâtâyouâre so frustrating,â you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.
âIâm sorry,â he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until youâre nearly seated in his lap. âDonât be mad. I only thoughtââÂ
âXavier?â
âDid you really mean it then?â he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feelsâŚweak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. âThat it was in a friendly way?â
Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes.Â
âIf you meant itâŚif you truly wanted to kiss me,â he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that youâre all he thinks about. âThen you should have woken me up.â His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. âI wouldnât have rejected you,â he swore.
He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, youâre so hesitant to accept. Even now, youâre unable to respond.Â
This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when youâre this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion.Â
He tests the waters, not knowing if heâll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss.Â
Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away.Â
âThere. Weâre even,â he says, but to you, thatâs far from the truth. Youâre far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights heâs been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs.Â
The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like youâre afraid heâll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.
His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesnât reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. âAre you trying to get more?âÂ
âAm I being too greedy?â you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips.Â
Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses.Â
His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesnât need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal youâve had in weeks.
Youâre hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, youâre able to calm down and readjust the pace.Â
âI think weâre both greedy,â he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time heâs slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.
There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that wonât know release until heâs inside of you.Â
Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong.Â
Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.
You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. Theyâre replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress. Â
Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, heâs just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time youâve felt this high.Â
âXavier,â you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. âWhat are we?â
Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and thereâs a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. âWeâreâŚwhatever you want to be.â
âI want to be with you,â you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought.Â
Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. âYou are with me.â
âYou know what I mean.â
âI donât,â he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, âI want you to tell me so thereâs no mistake, and you canât take it back later.â
You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time youâve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. Itâs too late to turn back now that youâve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side.Â
But why would you when youâre so close?
âI want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether thatâs having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, andââ
âAnd I love you,â he answers. Youâre not sure if youâre jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.
âI donât want anything to be between us. I donât want any more secrets or hidden things. Iâm tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isnât boyfriend and girlfriend.â
âOkay,â Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place.Â
âOkay?â
âI want that too,â he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, âgirlfriend.â
Youâre accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when youâre overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, itâs welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. Itâs validating to know heâs been just as nervous as you.
Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back.Â
âSlow down,â you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. âI didnât get a chance to absorb all that,â you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.
âI have a better way to help you understand.â
The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. Itâs painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust thatâs dripping from you. Â
You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need thatâs bubbling inside you.Â
Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. âArms up,â he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.
He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. Youâre not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air arenât filling it.
He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, âJust thinking where to start.â
Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands.Â
Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword heâs taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years.Â
They drag.
Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room.Â
âHere,â he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. âMaybe here.â
You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. âXavier.â
The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; youâre overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, youâve been wanting him to touch you forever.
Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.
It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. Youâre no longer sure if heâs marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body heâs claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, thereâs no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.
âLetâs start here,â he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.
âAbout time you decided,â you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.
âI canât help if I want to touch all of you,â he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didnât think you were capable of until you met him.
Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses.Â
âMore,â you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?
He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of whatâs enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head.Â
Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin.Â
Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isnât until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize heâs been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast. Â
âYouâre still being cruel,â you manage between moans.Â
âI think Iâm being very fair,â he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth.Â
When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down.Â
Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.
âWanted.â
Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.
âTo.â
He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.
âWith you.â
With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. Thereâs a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly.Â
âSo bad.â
Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. âXavier, baby,â you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.
Your mouth goes dry at the sight.Â
You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there.Â
âMy most sensitive spotâŚis my legsâŚâ
It doesnât take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. âAre you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isnât wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.â
âI said no secrets,â you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. âIf you were listening, you should know youâre still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.â
âIt wasnât on purpose,â he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. âI wasnât expecting to go anywhere.â
Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, youâre not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again.Â
âThatâs not going to work this time.â
Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. âPlease give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,â he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps itâs the slick trailing more between your folds.Â
âYou only got until morning to make a case for yourself.â
âIâll make you forget by then.â He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face.Â
He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg. Â
âSilly,â he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt.Â
You donât often hear Xavier curse but thatâs what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.
It takes him more effort than heâd like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.
He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole.Â
It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How heâs so obviously turned on when you havenât nearly returned as much as heâs been giving you.Â
He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you werenât expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily.Â
He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know thatâs exactly what he wants.
At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. Youâre not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens.Â
The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.
âYouâre too loud,â he comments yet he doesnât stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. âYouâre going to wake the neighbors.â
âSince when have you cared what the neighbors think?â you barely manage to whimper out.Â
âIâm not worried about them. I just donât want anyone else to hear what only I should,â he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.
His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didnât mind.Â
HoweverâŚ
His fingers werenât enough anymore.Â
Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesnât stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back.Â
Having the worldâs strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream ofâfirst as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.
You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether heâs shocked or curious you donât know, and you also donât ask to borrow his power.Â
âYouâve been having too much fun,â you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. âFor my turn, Iâll attack here and here,â you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.
Thereâs a hint of worry finally when he sees youâre aiming for his weak spot. âIf youâre trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.â
âMore like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,â you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.
âYouâre pretty forward today.â Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. âAre you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?âÂ
You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didnât already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than youâve ever been.Â
Your eyes soften. âAnd if I said it was you?â
âThen, you can use me all you want,â he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.
It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. Itâs so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain wonât let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.
His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit.Â
âYou, youâre soââ he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. Itâs not on purpose but you canât help yourself; youâre aching for him just as much as he is for you. âHah, please...âÂ
His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.
âNot yet,â you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.
His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines.Â
âAnd you call me the cruel one.â
He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. Itâs strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan.Â
âPlease,â he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what heâs doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. âPlease let me have you?â
It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. Thereâs a split hesitation when it registers that youâre actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance.Â
You press downward anyway.
The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.
âLetâs take our time,â he instructs.
You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce.Â
âGood girl,â he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. Itâs not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.
When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll.Â
âThere you go,â he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, âJust like that,â he rasps out.
 Â
As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.
You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, youâd lose control.
You feel so full. Itâs a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.
Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isnât until now that you recognize how bad youâve been needing this.
Needed him.Â
Youâre still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and heâs not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him.Â
The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts.Â
He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. Youâll both be each otherâs undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.
Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit.Â
The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and heâs never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it. Â
His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought heâd never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm.Â
The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that youâre coming down. Â
âI take it youâve finished,â Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think youâll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.
âIâm not finished,â he reminds you.Â
You look down at Xavier; youâd been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didnât realize he hadnât cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.
Youâre still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.
Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. Itâs an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you.Â
You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms.Â
âI want to hear you,â he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you.Â
His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.
Xavierâs breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if youâll have marks in the morning.Â
You donât really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties.Â
Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier.Â
âXavier,â you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy.Â
Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. âYouâre so beautiful and all mine.â
Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but itâs hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.
His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.
Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. Thereâs going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. Heâs already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft.Â
Xavier doesnât even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isnât as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts.Â
Youâre hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. Youâre overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.
Youâre quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you itâll be bigger than the last. Youâre right. When you come undone again, itâs with a shrill sob. Youâre too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.
Heâs still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know thatâs the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You donât think you could survive a third round.Â
âXavier, please, no more.â
âWhatâs wrong?â he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it.Â
âToo much,â you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you. Â
âI didnât catch that,â he coos defiantly. When he notices that youâre being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. âWhatâs wrong? Is it aching?â
You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.
âItâs not funny!â you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic.Â
âYouâre right,â he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold. Â
âWhere are you going?â
Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he mightâve gone. When he returns, itâs with a rag dangled in his hand.Â
âA boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,â he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. Itâs a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. âIt feels better already, doesnât it?â
âI guess,â you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like heâs teasing about your neediness.Â
âYou donât have to be embarrassed. Itâs my fault youâre a little sore.â Heâs definitely taunting you, but you donât have the energy to fight about it. âAll done,â he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you.Â
It isnât the first time heâs been this affectionate, and it wonât be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time youâve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, thatâs part of the reason.
âSomething on your mind?â
âNothing. Iâm really happy,â you explain.Â
âIf it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,â he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. âIâll need another bandage if you keep doing that,â he complains weakly.Â
âYou only have yourself to blame!â
Xavier sighs. âYouâre always right,â he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear.Â
âI donât believe you.â
âAre you really doubting your boyfriend?â he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you.Â
Itâs finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. âIâm stillâŚnot used to it yet with you being that.â
âYou will get used to it the longer weâre together. The same as I will.â Xavier sighs, happily so. âAlthough, we might run into the same problem again.â
You blink at him. âWhy?â
Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, âFirst comes love then comes marriage as they say.â
He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. âArenât you thinking too far ahead?â
âMaybe,â he agrees but thereâs no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. âBut I loved you since we met.â
âXavier, please,â you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow.Â
He canât help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. âEspecially that,â he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep.Â
You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the dayâs events.
The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isnât enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isnât time yet. Itâs hard not to rush when this is the closest heâs ever been to the one thing he truly wants.Â
Xavier guesses heâll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. Itâs okay, he tells himself, itâll work out this time. Heâll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars.Â
And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes youâll say yes.
I somehow missed the posting of this year's ZK Month prompts until like, the very end of last month and even though I hadn't drawn a thing this year I knew I'd regret not participating. So please accept my silly comic! <3
Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, noncon, physical coercion, outdoor sex, inappropriate use of 5th Gear
A/N: My second ever commission and the lovely donor was kind enough to give me permission to post it for everyone else to read. Thank you for a great experience, @avidbroswer!! đЎđЎđЎ
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Letâs help Luffy, theyâd said. Â
Weâre a crew, theyâd said. Family.Â
You donât feel very much like family when youâre running for your life from the very captain youâd sworn loyalty to. Or at least, youâre pretty sure that the strange figure with white nimbus cloud hair is your captain. Youâd watched it happen from a (questionably) safe distance, when he suddenly transformed in a surge of sparking static electricity that made your skin crawl like it was trying to escape from your bones but itâs still hard to believe that it was really him. Even having seen the reality of it with your own two eyes doesnât make it any easier to accept.Â
Luffy was supposed to be a dark haired, dark eyed youth in the prime of his life. Not this uncanny version of him that giddily laughs with boisterous amusement while he ping pongs about so violently within the craggy mess of scorched earth in the wake of his battle with Kaido that you can feel the massive chunks of rock slamming into the ground as much as you can hear it. One after another, from the left and then the right, they just keep falling in an almost continuous rain of rubble and ruin. The resulting shockwaves very nearly take you off your feet more than once but you force yourself to keep running even when your sore legs scream in protest, aching from the exertion. It was the only choice you really had at this point.Â
And itâs not lost on you that this is technically your own fault for getting so close to the fight but youâd wanted to help. All that talk of family and crew, and unwavering allegiance to the Straw Hats had clearly infected your brain because youâd rushed straight into the danger zone despite knowing good and well that you were the only one close enough to make it in time. Now you were the one who needed help and it wasnât going to arrive soon enough to do you any good.Â
What an idyllic fool youâd been.Â
âAh!â You suddenly get tripped up in all the rocky debris laying across the ground and fall to your knees with a seething hiss. Your palms come back scraped where theyâd shot out to catch you but youâve managed to avoid taking the brunt of it to the face. Thank the stars for lifeâs smallest miracles.Â
Panting heavily, you just sit there amongst the broken wreckage and detritus for a harrowingly long beat, trying to catch your breath. You can still hear the chaotic destruction of Luffy â or the man who had once been Luffy â bouncing around like a rubber ball behind you, completely unimpeded by the laws of gravity or common sense. It sounded like he was having a blast.Â
Maybe that was good. Maybe he hadnât even noticed you yet, so lost within the mess of demolished land and too tiny a speck to even draw his attention. You had a chance to escape then, if that was the case.Â
Any such hopes quickly fizzle out when his uproarious hooting and hollering abruptly rushes towards you, getting louder and louder until your eardrums start to vibrate. You suck in a sharp, nauseated gasp and slap your hands over your ears as you twist around to look behind you. Just in time to watch Luffy sail overhead like a shooting white comet. The kickback from his high velocity speed hits you seconds later, tearing a shriek from your mouth when the wind hits you full force and as solid as any wall.Â
Too busy ducking down with your head between your knees to protect yourself from the sting of flying rocks, you donât get to see how he manages to pivot his momentum mid air and land a couple hundred yards away. You hear it though. You feel the shock of impact too, when it races through the ground to make the rubble underneath you tremble. It goes quiet then, and unnaturally still. Suddenly all you can hear are your own labored gasps.Â
You hesitate to do it but, realizing you have no other option, you slowly lift your face to peer out over all the fallen debris. Standing at a distance, Luffy just looks at you with a fiercely manic edge in his now golden-yellow eyes that makes your veins ice up. Youâre more certain than ever that this cannot be your captain. He should have been giving you the usual bright faced, happy go lucky grin he always did when he inexplicably came out on top against all the odds that were stacked against him. Not this â viscous leer of victory.Â
But if this wasnât Luffy then who in the seven seas was it?Â
âHave you come to celebrate with me?âÂ
His voice isnât quite the same either. More raspy, like the weight of immense power flowing through him was putting strain even on his vocal cords. You donât think you like that any more than you like the way heâs eyeing you up as if you were a stuffed pig on a roasting spit. Even for his bottomless pit of an appetite, youâd never seen him look at another person quite like that.Â
Cautiously slow, you straighten up out of your defensive huddle. Work to get your feet under you without taking your attention off him for even a moment and then stand so you can prepare to ⌠what, run again? A lot of good that had clearly done you.Â
âI donât think itâs time to celebrate just yet.â You tell him softly. âWe need to find the other Straw Hats. Make sure theyâre all okay. You still remember them ⌠donât you, Luffy?âÂ
Your emotional plea only succeeds in giving him a momentary pause. âBut I have so much energy left. I just want to dance and shout, and jump into the air! Youâll join me, wonât you?âÂ
He takes a step towards you, a rather aggressive one at that, and you quickly back up. Something told you if you didnât agree to go along with this he was going to try and force you into joining in on whatever constituted his idea of merrymaking. Unfortunately you werenât sure if youâd survive that, given the state of all the crumbled boulders littering the ground on this now desolate stretch of land.Â
âNo, Luffy. Not right now. We have to - -âÂ
With an abrupt jerk, he lurches forward as if to launch himself at you. His rubbery legs momentarily struggle for traction on the ground, as if they couldnât quite decide what consistency they wanted to be, but you donât plan on sticking around long enough to find out. Feeling like youâve forgotten how to breathe, you spin around and make a mad dash for it, barreling straight into a dead sprint.Â
Itâs a resounding effort in futility.Â
You donât even make it three whole steps before he slams into your back hard enough to take you right off your feet.Â
Thereâs a split second moment of shock at how fast heâd managed to close the distance, and then the ground is rushing up at your face again.Â
That dizzying blur of vertigo inducing free fall coupled with the way your vision tilts on its axis very nearly has you spewing your guts right then and there. But if Luffy picks up on the dire, sickened tinge coloring your wounded grunt he certainly doesnât act it. He just flings his arms around your middle, alarming in their fleshy elasticity and yet still familiar to you, then hauls you up against his front before you can slam into the rocks.Â
Everything happens much too fast for you to keep up with any of it. Your brain is reeling, still trying to recover from the impact of his body colliding with yours and the subsequent head rush that followed. So stunned you canât even find the wherewithal to protest his treatment of you let alone try to fight your way free. Unable to do anything else, you simply allow your limbs to bonelessly flail when he takes a handful of eager steps forward with you in his arms.Â
In the next moment Luffy spins you out away from him, snagging your wrist to stop your momentum and make you jerk to another abrupt standstill. The yank on your shoulder causes it to pop, splintering pain racing up your arm as you cry out. He doesnât care though. He either doesnât care or he doesnât notice, because he just pulls you right back into him again, hard enough to make you collapse with a teeth rattling jolt against his chest.Â
âCome on!â He laughs, loud and frenzied, his hold on you much too tight where itâs shackled around your wrist. âDance with me! Arenât you having fun?âÂ
Teeth gnashing to fight back the nausea, you bring your uncaptured hand up and brace it against his shuddering frame. Youâre more than just a little surprised to find his heartbeat hammering out a sharp, almost violent staccato against his ribcage, so powerful you can feel it thrumming through his skin. It reminds you of an endless procession of war drums. Too many to count and impossibly loud, their ferocity equally intimidating and awe inspiring.Â
What in the world had happened to him?Â
You donât have the privilege of lingering on that question for very long. Couldnât afford to, as you try to get your tired legs situated under you again so you can stand on your own. âYouâre hurting me, Luffy. We donât have time for this right now. Just let me go. Please.âÂ
But he doesnât even seem to register what youâre saying as a plea at all.Â
A snickering, raspy laugh rattles up out of him, and you vehemently push at his narrow chest with your uncaptured hand. Shove him as hard as you can. He still doesn't budge though, simply reaching up to snag that wrist too so he can forcefully spin you around in his arms. You feel sick with the rush of motion coupled with the fatigue and throbbing pain in your body but thereâs nothing you can do to stop it. Heâs too strong, too wild, too lost in whatever manic high heâs slipped into after his fight with Kaido.Â
Tightening his grip to lock you against his front, Luffy moulds himself to the line of your back with such an unnatural, rubbery motion that you find yourself fighting not to wretch even as his mouth finds your neck. He nuzzles at you for a brief moment, just brushing his lips over your jackhammering pulse before angling his nose towards the spot just behind your ear. The breath he draws is slow and savory, and he seems to hold it in his lungs for an unnecessarily long time.Â
When he at last sighs out, displacing some of the loose flyaways in your hair, an unmistakable rumble low in his chest accompanies it. âMmm, you smell good. Like victory.âÂ
What the hell was that supposed to mean? âLuffy, just listen to me ⌠donât do this. I - I donât really understand what's happened to you but we can figure it out together. Weâll fix it. I promise. But you need to let me go or - -â
âLet you go? But weâre having so much fun. I want to have even more fun with you but youâre not a fighter, not like he was. And you donât want to dance with me either.â
He sounds dangerously close to pouting when he says that last bit and you give a halfhearted twist in his hold, testing for any slack. Itâs no good though. For as little effort as he seemed to be putting into it, his arms were like iron shackles where theyâre criss crossed over your body. Dammit.Â
âWhy?â You seethe in frustration and fast mounting panic. âWhy wonât you just go back to normal, Luffy? This isnât like you!âÂ
His frame shakes behind you with the giggles that rise within him, making his whole body vibrate like a mercilessly shaken soda bottle. It quickly grows, rapidly multiplying and expanding until he at last throws his head back with a cackling peel of laughter aimed up at the sky. Itâs much too close to your ear and deafeningly loud, reigniting your desperation to get away from him, but your wild thrashing just causes him to laugh even harder. Like he found it hilarious that you were scared and trapped against him.Â
âI canât!â He howls, belly laughing so ferociously it makes you jerk in his hold. âI canât go back until Iâve used up all of this energy! It feels like Iâm going crazy but it feels good too! Amazing even! Iâve never experienced anything like it before! I want to keep going but you canât fight and you wonât dance with me ⌠but thereâs something else we can do together, isnât there?âÂ
âWhat are you ta - -â
He releases you so suddenly you donât even realize youâre crumpling to the ground until your butt has already hit the rocks, surprising a yelp out of you. Fresh pain immediately races up from your backside in a blinding starburst and you outright hiss as you gingerly start to angle yourself onto your hip in hopes of taking some of the pressure off of where it hurts the most. You donât quite make it that far though.Â
Luffyâs hands are suddenly on your shoulders, shoving you forward to sprawl out rather inelegantly on your front. He follows you down, pinning you to the destroyed ground with his body weight, and you immediately start to panic in earnest. Your captain didnât look like much more than a lanky beanpole at first glance but he was so densely packed with muscle that he felt like a sack of bricks on top of you. It makes it hard to breathe and the quickened, gasping lungfuls of air you suck in donât exactly help. Your chest constricts painfully tight as you struggle against him, forgetting all logic and reason in your blind desperation to get away from him.Â
He doesnât even seem to notice though, still just as unbudging sprawled out over top of you as heâd been when the two of you were standing. No amount of kicking your legs or bucking up underneath him even gives him pause, and his greedy hands fumble down to your waist where they squeeze tight enough to rip a hurt shriek from your throat. This doesnât cut through the manic haze spurring him on either. He doesnât even waver.Â
âWhat are you â stop that! Have you lost your mind!âÂ
âIâm sorry.â He snickers, not sounding very sorry at all as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck again. Another deep, savory inhale. Another rumbling exhale right against your pulse. The faintest growl that trails afterward is new though and you go painfully still under him, hardly even daring the blink despite all the grimy dust kicked up in your desperate fight for freedom.Â
Youâd never, ever heard such a sound come out of him before. It scares you perhaps most of all, and youâd seen many a frightening and unsettling thing since stepping foot into Onigashima. Somehow this just really took the cake though.Â
âIâm sorry,â He says it again. Contradicting this, his callous worn fingers dip into the hem of your pants and start to tug at them, jostling you with each insistent pull. âIâm sorry, heheee. I just canât help myself. If I canât have you I donât know what Iâll do. Youâll help me calm down, wonât you?âÂ
Your mind struggles to process that. He was asking you to help him? Not with words or medicine, or even the endless supply of food he would have otherwise asked for had he been in his right mind. He wanted your body.Â
So thatâs what it was then. What it all boiled down to.Â
If he couldnât fight you and you refused to dance with him then that left only one other option. He was going to fuck it out of his system. Anything to get rid of all the excess energy running through his body, making him vibrate like a lit fuse on top of you. It made a certain amount of sense, you supposed, but that didnât mean you had to like it.Â
Curling your hands into tight fists against the rocks, numb to the abrasive sting, you draw a rattling breath to center yourself. It doesnât do much in the way of good. âPlease donât do this.âÂ
Itâs like he doesnât even hear you, a grunt of victory puffing out of him when he finally manages to get your pants tugged down over the curve of your ass.Â
âPlease.â You gasp, the sound wet and faltering.Â
Completely ignoring you now, Luffy reaches further down to fumble with something lower while his opposite hand possessively curls around your hip to keep you in place. You hiccup rather sadly at the distant sound of rustling clothes, almost completely lost under the violent pounding of blood in your ears, but thereâs no missing the fleshy nudge against the back of your thigh that soon follows. It leaves a sticky smear where it touches you, inspiring an eruption of horrified goosebumps in its wake.Â
You donât have to look to know whatâs touching you. The innate knowledge of whatâs happening and who is responsible for this paralyzing fear that grips your aching heart in a chokehold is horrible and suffocating all at once. Stinging tears spring up and well in the backs of your eyes but you clench your teeth to try and stifle the terrified wail threatening to claw its way up your throat, knowing it would only sound hysterical.Â
On one hand you almost couldnât believe this was really happening, even though the reality of the situation was staring you right in the face. It just seemed almost too implausibly awful to be real.Â
But on the other, Luffy wasnât exactly known for his self control or restraint. You knew this. Had even found it charming at one point or another, so you brace yourself for the worst. It just might be the only thing that ends up saving you.Â
âCaptain - -â
âIâm sorry.âÂ
Heâs suddenly between your legs, pressing up into you from behind. You go ramrod stiff against him, your whole body clenching in genuine distress, but it does very little to stop him. Like heâs done it a million times before, or perhaps thanks to the instinctive muscle memory bestowed upon every man with a working cock, he pushes right in on your entrance until cunt slips start to part under the pressure. A thin, tremulous groan escapes him at the first kiss of your hot guts against the tip and then he just keeps pushing. Even when your muscles tense up and try to keep him out. Even when he meets a great deal of resistance as your body tries its best to reject him. If anything he almost seems to take it as a challenge the same way he would another combatant or a roadblock standing between him and his goals.Â
In this case his goal is clearly to sink himself in you right down to the hilt, and he just puts more effort into his cause the more you try to fight it. Leans his weight into you until it feels like your poor cunt is taking the full brunt of his mass. The resulting stretch of your inner sleeve is painful and drawn out, taking much longer than it otherwise would have had you been even slightly prepped for this.Â
Your mouth hinges open but nothing comes out for a prolonged moment as the tears break loose to streak down your face. It feels like heâs tearing you in half! Either he was much bigger than youâd assumed heâd be or by virtue of how tightly your interior walls were squeezing him â or even some terrible combination of the two â it was like you were being split down the middle. You couldnât even breathe through the choking discomfort of it and a threadbare, sobbing little mewl dislodges from your throat when he at last manages to shove himself past that first barrier.Â
Full penetration is much easier for him to achieve after that but itâs no less painful, and you cry out when he snaps his hips forward once, twice, and finally lodges his length the rest of the way in on the third. A pleased huff slips out of him as he settles on top of you, a fresh wave of giggles quickly following suit. It was like heâd gone mad. So wrapped up in the raving power that had turned his hair white that he can only laugh about it even while heâs buried balls deep in your body.Â
That short lived pause is all the respite you get though and Luffy is soon moving, rutting into you with quick, sharp little jabs up into your guts. You shriek at the top of your lungs, clawing at the ground while you kick out behind you, but he ignores this the same as everything else. Lying prone and trapped under him, all you can do is take it.Â
âWaah â why are you doing this, Luffy? It hurts! If ⌠if the others find out about this - -âÂ
âI know, hahaaa. I know. Iâm sorry, but I canât stop. You feel ⌠this feels amazing! Almost as good as fighting Kaido did!âÂ
You seethe at that, trying your damndest not to get caught up on it right now but that proves to be more than a little difficult. He really didnât see any difference between fucking and fighting? Somehow that seemed so typically him, and you think you would have probably joined him in laughing about it under better circumstances.Â
But better circumstances wouldnât have found you being roughly jostled back and forth on the ground by his eager, jack rabbit thrusts. The motion of his hips lacks any and all refinement with no technique to speak of, and yet that doesnât stop you from seeing stars every time his cock blindly rams into your upper wall. It punches the air from your lungs and materializes out of your mouth in the form of heaving, strained bleats of distress that quickly climb to a higher and higher pitch with each second that goes by. Not for the first time today, you feel like you really might throw up.Â
âOoh, thatâs âŚâ He suddenly gasps, lets out a half strangled groan, and drives himself into you even harder. Faster. The force of his pelvis slapping against your upturned ass rapidly grows to a steady, almost constant blur of stinging swats â plap, plap, plap, plap â and you shriek at the rapidly swelling pressure on your gut. âOoh, thatâs good. Thatâs good! It feels so good! I - I canât - -âÂ
Without warning, your pussy abruptly floods with wet, sticky warmth. He hadnât even given you a chance to beg for him to pull out.Â
Your eyes widen to the approximate size of dinner plates but he just keeps pistoning his hips even as the rest of his shuddering frame gives a series of little jerks to thoroughly empty his balls into you. He shows no signs of slowing down or tiring any time soon though, his limitless energy evidently far outpacing his obvious lack of experience.Â
Itâs a hard thing to wrap your reeling head around just how quickly everything has happened and yet thereâs no mistaking it for what it is. The sensation is completely foreign to you but you innately understood it for what it represented, what it could potentially mean for your future. Youâre not half as relieved to have it done and over with as you are terrified of what it meant.Â
Even more confounding, however, is that it doesnât so much as make Luffy slow down let alone stop now that heâs painted your inner sleeve a thick, creamy white. Not the orgasm itself which, considering how much he fills you up, should have thoroughly drained him for the time being, nor the possible repercussions of allowing himself to shoot off inside of you like that. He just keeps going without a care in the world, like it wasnât his problem and he still had more than enough stamina to keep up the harried pace heâd settled into for the foreseeable future. The only sign of it burning up any of his energy at all is the slightly labored quality his breathing takes on, but thatâs it.Â
Realizing that this ordeal is still far from over, you give your body a twist and try to angle your cunt away from the constant attack of his cock. âH - hold on a minute, what ⌠aagghhh, what are you doing, Luffy? You - - you canât just cum inside like that, you idiot!âÂ
âCanât stop! Heheehe, I canât, I canât, not when you keep squeezing me like that!âÂ
All but wheezing at the intense pleasure of thrusting into the sticky mess heâs made of you, Luffy presses himself flush against your sweaty back and circles his arms around your middle. You brace to shove him off, or at least try to, but you donât quite make it that far.Â
Catching you completely off guard, he yanks you up against him and practically throws himself back onto the ground. The sudden lurch lodges your stomach in your throat, and you let out a frazzled scream as you land on top of him. That he cushions the impact with his rubbery body only comes as a slight relief when you were struggling just to get your bearings straight, disoriented and stunned in the aftermath of his impulsive decision when you unexpectedly find yourself blinking up at the sky.Â
You start to pull yourself upright, wincing, only to quickly realize heâs still got one arm looped around your waist to keep you held in place on top of him. The other is â you gasp when you glance down to see him already fisting his cock in hand, guiding it back to your entrance where it had slipped out in that rush of movement. Itâs still achingly stiff and unrelenting, like he hadnât already spilled his seed in you only moments ago, and your heart painfully wrenches with the fresh wave of dread that comes over you.Â
âW - wait, please donât - -â
The head of him finds your cunt, pressing back up into you again, and you outright sob when he mercilessly snaps his hips to impale you on that stiff length once more. You sway unsteadily at the fresh stretch, trying to decide if itâs better or worse in this position, but gravity soon proves itself your enemy when the weight of you on top of him firmly sinks his cock even further into you than before. It feels like heâs tickling at your ribcage like this, but all you can do is give a wounded little mewl and try to steady yourself. Undaunted, he reaches up to tug your pants the rest of the way off.Â
âLuffy,â Sniffling sadly, you fight him as much as you can in your physically exhausted state but itâs no use. Your bottoms come off to leave you bare and exposed from the waist down, sitting upon his cock like a whore on her rightful throne.Â
The tears quickly start up again, streaking hot tracks down your flushed, sweaty face while he gets himself situated underneath you. His hips lift, nudging you just a pinch higher so he can brace his feet underneath him while his hands come around to anchor around your love handles. Then, heâs moving again.Â
Completely unconcerned by your crying, Luffy flexes his legs to thrust up into you and the same fleshy slap as before quickly rises loud in the air again. Plap, plap, plap, plap. The wet squelch of your seeded cunt sucking him in deep on every upward plunge joins in, adding to the obscene cacophony of noises even as you toss your head back to sob at the sky. You can hear him grunting underneath you, clearly enjoying himself quite a bit, but you couldnât say the same. Your body was already a sore, achy mess of bruises and scrapes, and this certainly wasnât helping. You were just getting more and more tired by the minute.Â
âNnghhnnn, please, captain. Please donât cum inside again, I ⌠Iâm begging you!âÂ
The only response he gives is a low, rumbling groan that seems to bleed into you and reverberate endlessly inside your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together as if to block him out. But of course it doesnât work. Given the way he stutters over a raspy hiss of your name he actually seems to like the way it makes your walls tighten around him, unintentionally though it may have been. There was really nothing you could have done to dissuade or stop him once heâd set his mind to something, and it seemed he very adamantly had his sights set on using your cunt until his energy reserves finally wore out.Â
Distantly, you wonder how long that will actually take.Â
âYouâre mine, youâre mine, youâre mine,â He chants underneath you, again and again, even when his hands tighten around your hips to guide you into bouncing right along with him. Having no other choice, you snifflingly spread your legs wide and brace your feet on the ground, moving with him despite the throbbing ache in your muscles. âMine, mine, mine. My prize. My treasure. My woman!âÂ
He viciously slams his pelvis up at the end, further punctuating his claim on you, and the sharp stab of his cock rips a wild shriek from your mouth. âN - no, captain, please! I canât â I donât want it! Not like this! Youâre not ⌠aaghnn, youâre not Luffy! Youâre not!âÂ
The only response he gives is a deranged little laugh that makes his cock jump where itâs wedged inside you. That push on your upper wall makes the tension running through you double and then triple, your heaving gasps coming a little quicker now even as his hands travel up your body. You canât stop him like this when your own were propped behind you along his flexing stomach to help you maintain your balance in this precarious position. Itâs not hard to figure out what his intentions are though, and you screw your eyes shut so you donât have to watch him grab hold of your top.Â
A deafening riiiip tears through the air when he shreds it, the poor cotton helpless before his far greater strength. He leaves it hanging from your shoulders in tattered pieces as your tits bounce free, the stiffened tips already aching and strained long before he greedily palms at them like a starved man clutching at a lifeline. The blinding friction of his calloused palms and fingers on your teats makes your cunt spasm around him and you wail, screaming for someone, anyone to save you from your captain.Â
Unfortunately for you, help was still a long ways off and Luffy wasnât even close to running out of steam.
The new chapter of Chainsaw man was funny as hell but Iâm genuinely stressing out over that last panelđ Yoru kickin Denjiâs nuts and in his face demanding chainsaw man! It takes me back to Denji being so depressed about the women he likes and how they try to kill him cause heâs chainsaw man.
Now heâs definitely gonna put Asa in that group;-; like nooooo denji her feelings for you are real!
Fr đŠ she been fightin hard, lost an arm and everything. She said that they agreed to explain everything to Denji first before they ya know, got down to business;-; so Iâm hoping yoru can behave long enough for Asa to process things and talk openly to Denji about her own situation. FUJIMOTO GIVE THEM 5 MINUTES PLZ
The new chapter of Chainsaw man was funny as hell but Iâm genuinely stressing out over that last panelđ Yoru kickin Denjiâs nuts and in his face demanding chainsaw man! It takes me back to Denji being so depressed about the women he likes and how they try to kill him cause heâs chainsaw man.
Now heâs definitely gonna put Asa in that group;-; like nooooo denji her feelings for you are real!
Synopsis: Megumi doesnât have a need for friends, let alone a lover. But upon getting his first crush, he learns some new things about himself, like maybe he cares more than he thinks.
pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x GN!Reader
content warning: SFW, potential friends to lovers, Megumi sorting out his feelings sort of stuff because cynical, overthinker Megumi is my favorite Megumi.
If you were to ask Megumi, he didnât have any need for friends. And he has been asked before by people like Gojo and his sister. The answer was always the same. He prefers being alone. People were too complicated. Too selfish. Too good. Too everything, really. And he was, well, himself.
Even after arriving at Jujutsu High, itâs still unnerving to him to have someone talk to him so earnestly, like his eyes werenât permanently fixed with irritation, like he wasnât constantly avoiding others, like he didnât wear indifference like a new fur coat in the height of winter.
Itadori was an unexpected exception. An outburst of emotion intravenously linked him to the other boy, the golden strings of their destinies twined and knotted together on Fateâs spinning wheel.
You, on the other hand, have no reason to befriend him. Heâs never had anything to offer others in return for their company, which never bothered him until he met you.
Megumi questioned what it was about you that allows you to get so close. So, he lets you talk, chattering his ear off in the covered walkway hosting the vending machines.
He studies you inch by inch, searching for something in the bright expression on your face and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile; he still doesnât know exactly what heâs looking for. Your motive â the reason for wanting to talk to someone like him?
âWhatâs your favorite color?â you ask.
âI donât have one.â
It may sound like a rude dismissal of your question but it's the truth, the painfully boring truth. Heâs never put much thought into trivial things like that. The fact settles heavily in his stomach and rings hollow in his chest like when his sister said heâd never learn to make friends if he didnât put himself out there.
Back then, Megumi pretended not to have heard her. In truth, it bothered him when she said it, only for the feeling to quickly fade away before he even left school that day. That strange void he felt back then always seems to resurface at the worst of times.
âWould you say that you like black or silver better? How about blue?â
Megumi looks down and plays with the tab on his orange juice can, avoiding the thing about you that makes him want to hear you talk. Megumi has no need for friends. Attempts at friendship arenât appreciated.
âTheyâre all fine,â he grumbles out. Itâs the maximum he allows.
Megumi doesnât have a type. Itâs another one of those trivial things heâs never bothered to think about until his head was literally cracked through the pavement.
He knows all about types though, and he knows as much as he cares about romance from the bad to the good. Sweaty palms, blushing faces, pounding hearts were all reoccuring themes in his books.
Megumi never thought heâd have romantic feelings for anyone, no matter how fleeting. He reckons he isnât capable of it. He just isnât wired that way.
Itâs comforting in a sense. It means he didnât have to worry about attachments. Sure, he loves his sister, and Gojo, well, he cares for his benefactor, but heâs never considered the older man someone he felt okay investing all his feelings into. People his own age were complicated enough; adults were worse, his father was worse; the little he remembers anyway.
When he thinks about the way he met Gojo who too conveniently saved him from the Zenâin clan in exchange for becoming his student, itâs hard for him to let his trust flow purely even after all this time; even when Gojo took it upon himself to do Megumi favors like putting Itadori's room right next door (another thing Megumi didn't appreciate).
Megumi blames his long-seated resentment for the reason his heart starts to work overtime the day you present friendship bracelets to everyone. Theyâre fancy; many steps above the cheap kind that youâd find at some discount convenience store with plastic alphabets and random beads and symbols. He assumes a couple of the pieces might be real.
Kugisakiâs is green, shining on her wrist like emeralds. Megumi thinks it suits someone like Kugisaki, who would undoubtedly love to be covered in jewels. Itadori has a similar one, rotating with a pattern of red and opaque white pieces.
Standing in that hall, drowning out the conversation between Kugisaki and Itadori about who has the prettier bracelet, Megumi realizes heâs next.
It starts when you step in front of him; thereâs a cautious tone to your voice when you say his name because you already know: attempts at friendship arenât appreciated.
It's with a roll of anxiousness, the one that always comes with the mystery of whether his exchange with someone will be positive or negative and the skeptic thought in his head that reminds him most people always want something in return, that makes him throw up a wall.
âThese probably arenât your thing but I made one for you too,â you preface. âI hope you like it. I wasnât really sure what to put on it so I made some guesses.â
Youâre right. Friendship bracelets arenât his thing; needing a token like a bracelet to prove your relationship to someone is asinine. Itâs against what is supposed to make a friendship special. Strong friendships should need no words, right?
Most importantly, he doesnât need it, and thereâs no reason for you to give him one.
âYou keep it,â he starts. However, itâs already too late as you grab his arm and slide the trinket over his hand.
âI donâtââ he starts again; thereâs a bit of surprise in the way you look at him, the way everyone stops and looks at him actually. This quickly becomes one of those times where itâd be easier to go with the flow than to fight the current. âFine.â He clears his throat. âOnly because you already made it,â he explains more fully, stifling the embarrassment that wants to bubble from his chest with so much attention.
Like before, he finds himself too focused on watching you, the way your eyes soften from surprise and rejection to shining stars. He thinks this must be how the protagonists in those books feel when heat creeps up their neck. Those books also left him sorely unprepared that it would go past neck to his face and ears.
He breaks away from the situation, finding a way to retreat into the background to shield himself from the gooey feeling permeating the air. He drops his gaze to his arm, focusing on the bracelet with his name accompanied by a repetition of blue and silver, connecting the twoâfourâof you together.
Megumi fixes his sleeve over the bracelet, but he canât hide how painfully aware he is of the charms rolling against his skin.
It was both a pleasant feeling and completely alien.
It broke.
Megumi was a bit reckless against a low-level curse, and it broke. He didnât even realize it until after the battle was over and one of the silver charms were rolling under his foot.
It shouldnât have been a big deal. It was bound to happen eventually considering this line of work. Yet, he still picked up the few pieces he could separate from the gravel, and the entire ride home his wrist feels unreasonably bare.
Thinking about how he messed up makes him annoyed at himself, especially when he wonders what youâd think if you noticed he wasnât wearing it. Youâd probably think he tossed it somewhere; that he didnât like it. He liked it. The same way he likes to listen to you talk on car rides home after missions or when you ask him to hang out with you and the others or when you read all the books he recommends with the protagonists that are quickly becoming too relatable with every skipped heartbeat and tongue-tied word. Heâs frustrated to acknowledge why thatâs the case.
Itâs only been three months since the start of the school year, he thinks. It took only three months for his thoughts to start drifting to his classmates, with you almost always center stage in them.
When he arrives back at the school, he finds your room and knocks on your door. He shows you what little remains of the gift you gave him, as if he needs to immediately absolve himself of any wrongdoing.
âDo you want me to make you another one?â you ask cautiously.
Megumi can guess why youâre hesitant considering he only accepted your gift because of peer pressure. He still believes gifts like this are silly and unnecessary.
ButâŚ
âIf you wouldnât mind.â
He wants it.
So, he goes into your room where he watches you begin the process of making him another bracelet. You ask him which accessories he would prefer, and like always he doesnât have much preference other than what you think is best. As long as it isnât too silly, of course.
He gives his undivided attention to how your fingertips pour over your work kit and the many square boxes filled with different miniature shapes before you carefully pick out one with a little dog face.
âI think this one is good,â you whisper to yourself before continuing your search for another complementing bead.
You smile as you work. Itâs nice. Cute even as you bite down on your lip in concentration; and right now, he isnât quite sure what to do with that information other than note the way it makes his palms feel clammy especially when he notices your eyes lift back up to his.
Megumi notices a lot about you actually. He notices how you always go out your way to get his, well, everyoneâs opinion on everything. He notices that whenever you share your snacks with everyone that you always save ginger for him. He notices how your gaze lingers on him when you ask if everyone is in one piece after difficult missions. He also notices how your finger stops over a silver square, one with a little black heart carved in each side. He wonders, perhaps too hopefully, if the charm is just one you think heâd like or if it means more than that.
âWhy do you always keep trying to talk to me?â he asks, fighting the urge to beg you to stop getting stuck in his mind so much.
Your head snaps up from what youâre doing.
âWhat do you mean? Weâre teammates,â you answer simply.
âArenât missions enough? We donât need to interact aside from that.â
You pinch your eyebrows at him, and thereâs a frown on your face. âSure we do.â
âThereâs no reason.â
Itâs not like he ever saved your life, not like Itadori. Itâs not like he has a somewhat familial relationship with you, like Gojo. Youâre not his sibling or his parent; heâs not the friendlist either so thereâs no reason to try to get closer any more than necessary, and thereâs no reason for him to be feeling so nervous right now.
âHow about because I like talking to you? I think youâre pretty funny, and youâre a kind person.â You shake your head, laughing. âI donât know. I just like being friends with you.â
Megumi doesnât know what he was expecting. Some deep explanation why you keep trying to get close to him? Some selfish excuse from you that he could use to warrant pushing you away. A reason to justify why he likes you so much? A reason to hope you like him just as much?
Maybe.
There doesnât need to be some special reason for you wanting to be his friend, which means he doesnât really need a reason either.
âI see.â
âFinished,â you say, holding out his newly made bracelet to him. âI poured some of my cursed energy into it, so it wonât break so easily next time.â
Megumi feels calm once again when he feels the weight and roll of the beads on his skin again; the aura of your curse energy humming through it makes the connection back to you much more noticeable.
âWhat about me?â you ask, drawing his attention. âDo you like being friends with me?â
Megumi canât answer that, not because he doesnât have an answer, but because he feels like his tongue weighs more than lead as you lean closer into him.
His eyes find your lips, soft and parted. This is the first time heâs gotten the urge to kiss someone. It makes his stomach whirlwind, and he quickly finds a way to answer you without having to look at you as he picks at one of the charms.
âCan I make you one?â
The next morning, Megumi decides to go out with you and the others for breakfast, which in hindsight was a mistake as Itadori points out the new accesory youâre wearing on your wrist.
âHey, you got one too now.â
You smile, holding it up proudly. âMegumi made it for me!â
âMegumi?!â Itadori blurts out.
âMade it for you?â Nobara asks with raised eyebrows and a hand on her hip.
âHe did a really good job.â
Itâs like the time before when you first gave them their gifts, and everyone is looking at him again. âI didnât do anything special; a monkey could do it,â he mumbles out.
Itadori is the first to crack a laugh followed by Kugisaki. Then, the two of them start muttering and teasing him in unison.
âHeâs so modest,â Itadori points out.
âLoverboy,â Kugisaki whispers.
âCan we call you Megumi too?â Itadori asks.
Megumi doesnât have the patience to consider whether the other boy is being genuine or not as he grits his teeth and growls out a quick âshut upâ before konking Itadori on the head to prove his point. Itâs enough to make them leave him alone for now as Itadori accidentally trips into Kugisaki from the force.
âThat was completely unnecessary, Fushiguro,â Kugisaki grumbles as she pushes Itadori off and stands back to her feet.
Megumi sighs.
This is why he doesnât want friends.
âDid you just sigh at me!â
âIf thatâs what you heard,â he tells her.
âYou better sleep with both eyes open!â
âIâll be sure to do that.â
Yet if itâs those two then he guesses having friends isnât completely unbareable.
Suddenly, Megumi loses focus at the timbre of your laugh.
âYou guys are starting early today.â
Youâre still laughing at them, harder now actually, and itâs precious. He throws his gaze to the wall as if heâs ignoring Kugisaki and not trying to hide the heat blooming on his cheeks when you glance at him, making him aware that heâs the reason for your laughter.
Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his thumb over the bracelet and the heart you left behind there.
Friendship is something heâs coming around to. Having a crush for the first time, well, he still needs work on figuring that out.Â