had a power outage, no internet, and thought of xavie <3
rough fic, fluffy + lil frisky if you squint maybe
1.2k words
The power has been out since 7pm. A wanderer had attacked a nearby powerline that was responsible for all of Linkon’s electricity. The wanderer has been defeated, but according to team C, Tara and Matthew, the creature had really frazzled the wiring, and the city-council’s biggest electricity company is working as quickly as they can to fix it. It’s 8pm now, and it’s deadly quiet, as if the rest of the world were asleep. An unanticipated feeling of fear and excitement arose in your chest. It’s exhilarating in an odd way. No power, no wifi, no lighting, nothing. At first, you were of course devastated from the lack of wifi, realising how dependent you were on power, but you moved quickly. Joyfully lighting up as many of the old tealight candles you could find that were collecting dust in storage. You even brought out the more expensive and tasteful candles with the aromatic scents. The smell took a while to get used to, but your small apartment looked so cozy with the warm lighting, brightening up small areas of your home. It was gentle on the eyes.
Then the weather picked up. The wind roared against the side of the apartment building you were in, whistling notes that sounded more like blood-curdling screams.
This wasn’t fun anymore.
You distracted yourself, creating a comfy little nest with your blankets and a sweet pear lily scented candle on your bedside table, wafting a sweet smell you were unfamiliar with that was only slightly nauseating. You briefly considered using the remaining 31% battery of your phone life to play offline games, but that would be stupid, considering you don’t know when the electricity will be back again. Okay, so no phone…? Now what? Boredom made every passing second feel like eternity, sitting around with bated breath, silently praying for the silly power line to get its shit together. And with the wind still howling against the windows, your safe haven felt not so safe. There was no way you could sleep like this; it was still too early for your body to want to power off anyway. In the midst of considering eating food for the sake of simply doing something with yourself, there was a knock at your door, followed by the metallic chime of the lock being turned. It’s Xavier, you think. Only the blonde-haired man would still use keys in the new era of Linkon’s finest technologies, but it’s a good thing he did. Yet your happiness left as quickly as it came; the quiet world and the screaming wind and the darkness feed skepticism into your highly alerted mind. You don’t rush to greet him like you usually would, and it would be smart to remain in your room, as it was the furthest away from the front door.
You don’t hear the door opening, nor any consequent footsteps you would expect. It worries you. Heartbeat thundering so loudly, it competes with the wind. Instincts kick in. Peering over the side of the bed to watch your footing, you creep out of the blankets, moving with a slow yet precise pace. You make sure to blow out the candles in your room, coating the area with a blanket of darkness, and you wait near your bedroom door. You have no reasonable weapon, but you’ve been trained in close combat, so you brace yourself. With a lowered center of gravity and feet planted firmly and wide to balance yourself, your arms move in front of your torso, fists clenched. You have faced worse. You can do this. You can protect yourself.
You wait.
…and you wait even longer.
Nothing.
What if you imagined the knock on the door? What if no one was there and you were just going crazy from a simple power outage? Maybe you very deeply missed your knight. This is stupid. If there really was something or someone here, you would have heard it within all of this eerie silence. Gathering up your courage, you step into the hallway, and that’s when you see the richest blue in the monotonous greyscale of the night, only a few inches away from your own face. The blue duplicates and widens; eyes, they are looking at you. You shriek in reflex of being startled, hands shooting out to push away the thing in defense, but they are caught.
“My star?” Comes a quiet yet urgent voice. A familiar voice. One that soothes your clambering heart. “I came… as quickly as I could.” Speckles of light drift from the source of the voice, lighting up the speaker and your apartment. The sparkles float around like sentient things, filling the space, and you see him. Your Xavier. He adorns his tight-fitted ivory uniform, with only the smallest of stains to convince you that your lover had truly come to you as soon as he was done with whatever task he had at hand. His worried, wide eyes sought yours, his soft hands moved to cup your face, and the usually aloof expression was a little tight. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” you whispered eagerly, simply so happy to see him. “There’s no light,” you inform, and Xavier blanks before briefly nodding. “…I can see that.”
You bring Xavier into your room, now littered with shimmer, breathing back a sense of comfort. As though the stars had fallen down to grace your little world. “A wanderer?”
You hum, dragging him by the hands to your bed. “It was defeated ages ago, they’re just having difficulty fixing the mayhem it created.”
Xavier stands in between your legs when you sit down on the bed, the default position. His brilliant blue eyes look over your form over and over again, wordlessly. You can tell he's worried. "How long were you in the dark for?"
Shaking your head, you try to soothe him by rubbing your thumbs over the back of his hands, "not long at all. I'm fine, babe. Please don't worry." After all of your insistence, Xavier finally buckles down next to you, hugging your side, basically squishing you in a tight hug.
"It was windy though, but I had my candles and blankets." You chirp. "The candles made my room kinda romantic... you should have seen." As you gaze about your room, watching the floating balls of light, you compare it to the previous scene.
"Is... my light not enough? Not romantic enough—"
"Xavier!" You giggle, caught between offense and amusement. Facing your lover, you gently nudge his chest, wanting his attention. "I never said that, my love. Your light is always—" It was then your turn to grab Xavier's cute face, smaller hands spread over his soft cheeks, proclaiming your sincerity. "—always romantic. Always sweet, always loving. Always enough. It has never been less than! But!! But I was just saying how romantic the candles could also be. And how they would have been more romantic... if you were here with me."
Within seconds, those miniscule spheres of light disappeared, and your eyes couldn't decipher the shadows that contoured your room. Plump, slightly wetted lips found yours in a teasing, ushering kiss. "Mmmkay..." Groaned Xavier's sweetened voice. His body pushed forward, moving yours as it did until your back found the soft bedsheets. "I want to see them." Warm hands touched all over your body until their exploration finished at your hips, and your heart was racing all over again, air gathering largely in your chest with shallow breaths. "The candles? Will you light them for me? Or may I show you my light?"
// images are not my own, taken from pinterest, <3
first proper fic in agesssss. please let me know your thoughts!! <3
delete xavier and rafayel for stalking mc. delete zayne for abusing his power as a medical professional. delete sylus for being physically aggressive in the main story. delete caleb for the incest implications.
notice how the whole house would be mad????? NO ONE WANTS THAT. this game is a work of fiction!!!!!! it is a story. it isn’t real life. it is for entertainment.
we’ve been entertained thus far, but this is where we draw the line???
i was afraid this would happen so i can’t say i’m too shocked
there’s just so much incompetence all around. from valko’s “here damn” release announcement to assuming that his release would make the hundreds of legitimate complaints about the game disappear. there’s just so much naivety and arrogance and avarice into infold’s strategy that as long as they’re producing something, everything is unicorns and rainbows, and fans will forget their concerns about the game and other characters they’ve been attached to for 2.5 years.
that they’d choose to remove valko entirely speaks to just how irate some players were, but god. i just can’t fathom it. if they were working on him for as long as they claimed, surely they’re losing so much time and effort and money and so many resources? and what about the fans who weren’t irate and genuinely anticipated his release? they’ve pumped out all this promo and purposefully gotten players attached to him just to pull the rug out from under them. the people they were planning to siphon money from like crazy upon his release
why not continue with his release and earnestly commit to fixing the game’s other problems? why not devote equal time and resources to all love interests? why not prioritize the main story over sims 3 gameplay no offense cause it was cute? if players were concerned about him ruining their pulls, why not adjust the pulling system? every aspect of this situation had a solution. but when god created the lads leadership team he dropped their vials of competence and hoped no one would notice (we noticed.)
and last but not least i’m a really hard sell on the argument that his character and story elements presented thus far were “too dark” because…look at the other stuff in this game
i feel so hollow, mourning someone i loved in my heart yet never had the chance to know. i cant even muster the urge to crash out or be angry, i only feel exhausted. as though im watching a wild fire swallow up and destroy everything in its path and im standing in its ruins
hi! just coming on to confess that I JUST REALLY NEED TO SLOWLY SINK DOWN ON LEON KENNEDYS BIG ASS FUCKING COCK.
im actually unwell. like i think i might actually die if i dont ride that thing
resident evil requiem has been out for a while now, and no amount of straight filthy smut has been able to satiate my BURNING desire for that man. i have some stuff in the works, but they're all porn with plot and im so busy with uni so idk when ill finish em off 💔💔
also NEED more dead dove and freaked out reader cause wdym. like wdym. like what. like wdym??? LIKE??HWAT BEST BELIEVE WHEN IM DONE WITH MY FICS THE READERS GONNA BE WILD AND ANNYOYING AS FUCK
I CANT GET THAT IMAGE OF LEONS FACE PINCHING IN PAIN OUT OF MY HEAD. LIKE OMG YOU JUST KNOW HIS CUM FACE IS EROTIC ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU CUM WITHOUT A TOUCH FROM HIM
synopsis. what if you were able to completely get rid of your bully? what if you had to do just a tiiiiiiiny thing for you to be free? you’d do it, no?
pairing. bully! rafayel qi x reader
content/mdni. DUBCON. COERCION. fem!reader, implied uni!au, goodie-two-shoes!reader, innocent!reader, implied virgin!reader, implied delinquent!rafayel, dom!rafayel, bully!rafayel, mean!rafayel, pervert!rafayel, manipulative!rafayel, embarrassed!reader, ashamed!reader, MANIPULATION, looking up your skirt oop, slight groping, clit play, DACRYPHILIA, begging (m receiving), ORGASM DENIAL/EDGING (f receiving), teasing, slight praise, slight degradation, pet names (princess, good girl, little lamb), recording/taking pictures, allusion to (possible) blackmail.
word count. 2k
a/n. MEAN RAFAYEL MEAN RAFAYEL MEAN RAFAYEL. miiiiiiight write a part two where you go chase him! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
the afternoon light spilled through the high, grimy windows of the abandoned hall, illuminating dust particles that swirled in the stale air.
you should have known better than to take the shortcut through the old humanities building. but you were in a hurry, your bag full of books, your mind full of notes for an exam you could barely afford to fail.
you should have known better than to go through one of the delinquents’ favorite spot in campus.
rafayel’s voice curled around you before you saw him.
“well, well, well. look who’s wandering into the wolf’s den.”
you froze.
“a lost little lamb, so stupidly unguarded.”
he emerged from the shadows between the forgotten lockers, all sharp smirk and lazy demeanor, his uniform deliberately disheveled — tie loose, top buttons undone, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows.
he leaned against the doorframe in front of you, blocking the only exit that would give way into the new, crowded building.
“rafayel.” you managed, voice between a gasp and a whisper, hating how high your pitch sounded. “i– i don’t have time for this now.”
“you never have time for me, princess.” he pushed off the frame and walked closer, each step powerful against the wooden boards; a predatory stance against your cowering form. an attitude that deeply contrasted with his meek words. “that hurts my feelings.”
but you knew better than to listen to his vitriolic words, to that charming tune in his voice. so you backed away, until your hips struck the edge of a long oak desk, placed in the hallway for some unknown reason.
“please. just leave me alone.”
“but i like you right here.” he stopped inches from you, head tilted down towards your own, close enough that you could smell his cologne — an expensive and dark aroma that perfectly worked for him.
his fingers, always twitching with the need to feel you, found a strand of your hair and twirled it. it was almost romantic, the position the two of you were in… if one didn’t know the reality, that is.
“all flushed. all alone. no one to save you.”
what he was saying was true — he made it to be true. you had no friends to text, no one who would notice you missing. he knew it with certainty. he’d made sure of it, spreading rumors, isolating you with his cruel, infectious charm, until everyone on campus avoided you like the plague.
“what do you want?” you whispered, abandoning any hopes of being let alone without satisfying rafayel. and to do that, you had to find what his evil mind desired from you this time.
his grin widened at your question, pleased that you’d inquire about his needs. “right now? to watch you squirm beneath me.”
he cornered you further against the desk, leaning into your body and caging you with his arms. one hand slid along the table to your waist, squeezing the roundness of your body once, before trailing lower towards your ass.
you flinched and shooed his hand away, displeased by the physicality of his actions. he only laughed, amused by your reaction, as if he wanted the discomfort on your face more than the actual touches of your body.
“stop.” you hissed, voice cracking, and you pushed your body into the desk more to widen the distance between you and him. “please, rafayel. i’ll– ’ll do anything just so you leave me alone for good.”
ah, you’ve finally offered him something interesting.
his eyes glittered. “anything?”
something more interesting than your visible discomfort.
you nodded, desperate, fingers almost snapping in half from the way you were gripping the edge of the desk.
he tilted his head, pretending to contemplate his answer, pretending he didn’t already have something in mind for your pathetic self. his expression turned wicked, his seductive grin stretching into a scary smirk.
“show me.”
“huh?”
“lift your skirt.” he said it like it was nothing, pointing at the long skirt the girls’ uniforms had. making a circle in the air around your entirely covered legs. “let me see what’s under there. that’s all. and i’ll never bother you again.”
your stomach dropped, almost cramping at hearing his wish. “that’s– no.”
“then i guess i’ll see you later. and tomorrow. and the day after.” he shrugged, already stepping back, arms moving away from the desk and folding behind his neck. “and the day after. i’ll make your life a living hell, princess.”
no. no, no, no, no–
“wait.” the word tore out of you before you could think your options through. “fine. fine. just– not here.” you whispered quietly, looking around the abandoned hallway with suspicion.
he puffed, slow and satisfied, then walked back towards you. “follow me.” guiding you through the delinquents’ hiding spot to a more secluded place.
“here.”
he led you to a small, windowless storage room at the end of an adjacent hall: piles of old exams, broken chairs, a single flickering fluorescent light that somehow still worked. he blocked the door behind him with one of the chairs and gestured you to a small, intact desk near the wall.
“hop up on your throne, princess.”
you obeyed, pulse hammering against your pristine university shirt as you assumed position, taking a seat at the edge of the desk. your hands shook as you grasped the margins and hitched your long pleated skirt, bunching the excess fabric at your hips as you kept the hem up.
“ah.” the air was cold against your bare thighs and you couldn’t help out the hiss that escaped your lips.
rafayel hummed at your position as he leaned against the opposite wall, yet his arms crossed in dissatisfaction. “wider, princess. spread your legs for me.”
your face burned at his raunchy command, legs smushing together even more. “you said just the skirt.”
“but i can’t see anything.” he didn’t move, just watched you with hooded eyes, throwing spiteful comments at your weak self. “you want me gone forever? then do what i say. part your legs, let me see.”
humiliation curdled in your throat, but you, nonetheless, obeyed. slowly, trembling, you let your knees fall apart, meeting the edge of the desk with your bare skin.
at that, he finally pushed off the wall and stepped between them, close enough that you could smell that expensive perfume once more. he looked down at you, as he always does; but now there was something different about him — his eyes, darkened with mischief, stared at the thin cotton of your panties…
fixated on the damp spot that was already forming against the white material.
betraying you completely.
“my, my.” he murmured, dragging a finger up your inner thigh. enjoying the way your leg jolted at the touch. “you’re not as innocent as you pretend, are you?”
“i…” you whined from behind your skirt. “please– you said just looking–”
“and i’m looking.” he bent down, bringing his face at the level of your covered cunt. and you whimpered. “look at that. wet already. just from me telling you what to do. you like this, don’t you? being helpless?”
you shook your head, but your body disagreed, pushing out a glob of slick and making the wet patch grow right beneath rafayel’s eyes.
“fuuuck, you’re so fucking nasty, princess.”
you were too good for him now, acting like the needy, untouched woman he portrayed you as. he couldn’t help it anymore, so he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.
deciding to immortalize the moment.
“smile for me.”
“n–no!” you mustered up and immediately tried to shove your skirt down, to hide your drenching panties and your obvious arousal from the camera.
but he caught one of your wrists, grip iron-tight, and forced you to keep the skirt up for him.
“ah–ah. you said you’d do anything. remember?” he repositioned your other hand as well, successfully clearing the view, then he raised the phone, angling it between your legs. “now hold still.”
the shutter clicked. once. twice. three times. each sound a knife through your chest.
each click a new drop of stickiness on your panties.
“p–please delete those.” you begged, eyes beading with tears from the convolution of emotions that were taking over your mind. “rafayel, please.”
fuck, that only made rafayel want to torture you more.
“and why would i do that?” he examined the photos, thumb swiping across the screen and stopping on the perfect picture – arousal shining beautifully between your legs as a few brave tears rolled across your cheeks.
“you look so pretty like this. all wet and desperate. just for me.” he tucked the phone away and leaned in, breath hot against your ear as he whispered. “you’ve been such a good girl for me, princess, so i won’t send them to anyone else.”
you slumped with relief, arms falling one level down from their original position.
thinking you’ve escaped rafayel for good.
but his hand returned to your thigh, then slid inwards, one finger unexpectedly pressing against the soaked material of your panties. you gasped, from shock and pleasure, hips jerking back into his hand, head falling onto his left shoulder.
he was rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit through the fabric, closely watching how your face contorted in pleasure against his shirt.
“so sensitive.” he said, almost laughing at your reactions. “is this your first time being touched, princess? by someone who isn’t yourself?”
you couldn’t answer.
with a harsher push, your head fell back, a broken moan escaping your lips from the pleasure. without asking for permission, rafayel snatched your panties aside with two fingers, exposing your slick, swollen cunt to the cold air.
to his hungry, lust-filled eyes.
“oh, that’s it... such a pretty pussy.” he whistled, praising the body part he always wanted to see. he’d pulled the phone out again, this time hitting the screen once — recording. “quality material for my private collection.”
“rafayel–”
he pressed two fingers flat against your bare cunt, sliding through the wetness, and your protests dissolved into whines and moanes. he rubbed your clit in tight, maddening circles, not enough pressure, not fast enough, just enough to have you gushing more creamy arousal onto the desk below.
“you want to cum, don’t you, princess?” he asked, voice syrupy sweet, contrasting with the brutality of his fingers against your pussy.
“yes.” you choked, voice vibrating on the recording. “please.”
“please what?”
“please let me cum.”
he laughed at that, soft and cruel, savoring the way a few touches turned you into such a needy mess. “beg prettier.”
so you begged. you pleaded.
you dug your fingers into the desk’s edge, skirt long forgotten, tears streaming, hips grinding against his hand. your whole being focused on that point of contact between your two bodies, on the wet sounds of his fingers playing with you, on the occasional beeping of his phone recording every humiliating second.
“ngh– please, rafayel, i need it, i need to cum, please, please–”
but, oh no, where’s the fun in that?
he stopped.
just stopped. pulled his hand away. casually wiped his fingers on your inner thigh and stood, backing up, sliding his phone into his pocket.
like nothing happened.
you stared at him, chest heaving, head hurting, cunt aching and empty and so so close it was physically painful to breath.
“what– why–”
“because i just wanted a look.” he smiled, that same lazy, condescending smile, proudly reminding you of his wish. like you previously did. “you don’t get to cum, princess. not from me, at least.”
“h–huh?”
“you’ll think about this tonight, won’t you? lying alone in your stupid little bed, touching yourself, wishing it was my hand.”
he unlocked the door and stepped through, pausing for a brief second in the doorway.
“thanks for the fun, princess. and don’t worry– i’ll leave you alone now.”
“wait, wait!”
the door clicked shut. his footsteps faded.
you sat there, skirt bunched around your waist, panties ruined, thighs trembling, the ghost of his fingers still burning between your legs.
rafayel finally left you alone, but now... now you’re no longer sure you want that.
tags: @yuunileb, @xyzsbaobei, @loreleis-world, @demonicangelll, @dreamydaredevil, @glitterykingdomangel, @damianalily, @weirdothatwrites, @cherrytokkiz, @brailsthesmolgurl. if you see this and want to be added to the main taglist, please let me know!
THE TRAILER IS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME BREAK OUT INTO FULL FREAKED OUT OMEGA HEAT
OMG FUCK MEE PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
i fear im going to have to grind the most grindiest of my ability. mayhaps have to lose sleep over farming for gems. perchance may even spend money even though costoflivingcrisis???
#iwillbetouchingmyself
actually burning inside from the amount of NEED i have for them.
also the ost is so good. the aesthetic, the colouring, the design of the (not) clothes, the bgm -- everything is beyond beautiful and this makes me more lowkey scared of the fact that it could very well be possible the censorship in China, the not-so-nice "fans" of lads or straight up incels report Infold and force em to remove this event before i have the chance to even enjoy it.
please please praying to the gacha gods that we all pull and that this event stays up for its full duration
also still #crying and #throwingafit and lowkey throwing and shitting myself because i HAVE TO FUCKING GET ALL THE CARDS AND I JUST KNOW ITS NOT POSSIBLE BUT ILL FUCKING DIE TRYING IF ITS THE LAST THING I DO ON THIS SHITTY PLANET WTF
about the new event because I KNOW i can't even pull for one singlular card,( let alone ALL OF THEM. and when i tell you i VISCERALLLY NEED all of these memories. i mean it.
ITS KILLING ME HOW IN REACH THESE MEMORIES ARE AND HOW I LITERALLY CANNOT AFFORD THE WILDEST FANTASIES OF MY DREAMS AND THE CLOSEST THING TO EXPLICIT STRAIGHT PORN OF MY MEN BECAUSE IM A BROKE ASS UNI STUDENT AND WHAT THE FUCK IS THE THRUSTING--- SERIOUSLY?!?!?
omg theres just this sick feeling of dread in my belly cause i feel like im gonna cry (THROW A FITTTTT), watching the few hundreds of diamonds i have being spent to earn absolutely nothing and how all of my grinding and farming wont do shit for my 70+ pity and AND HELP MEEEEEE.
LITERALLY WATCHING MY DREAMS SLIP BETWEEN MY FINGERS
ik that other people will (HOPEFULLY) post the 5star memories but thats NOT ENOUGH FOR ME. like i NEED TO SEE MY MC getting pounced on by them.
also bad spelling cause i typed the words as the thought barely formed in my brain cause this is a #rant!
hey so recently finished s2 of frieren and i wasn't PREPARED TO FUCKING FALL FOR THAT FUCKASS GENAU??
HELLO that man was soooo bland to me in s1, i literally barely remembered the dude other than being this aristocratic elite annyoying ass mage id prob never see again and then-
LO AND BEHOLD WHO ABSOLUTELY ENCHANTS ME OUT OF NO WHERE in s2. like. you dont understand.
first i was like okayyyyy nonchalant, built tough, seen some things, #troubled man. okay he thinks he's a shit guy, his friend died and he could save him- OH HE SELFLESSLY TRIED TO SAVE A CHILD???
im gonna get onto his seggsyness IN JUST A SEC but i was really BROILING in my feels, wondering why genau feels familiar.
and then i realised, (my other husband): #leviackerman
genau wears an ascot, he's got that troubled aura that almost comes of as pretentious irritation, when really he's unsociable and ALL the grade 1 mages seem that way, and most importantly; this dude actually gives a fuck. and like.... i wasn't expecting that..??? from the way he narrated the death of his village so apathetically, to the fact that his ACTIONS disagreed with what he believes he feels so clearly. it was all really giving me flashbacks to levi, and while i didn't conciously clock that until now, i was instantly drawn to genau.
like.... i #want that, #iNEEDTHATI"MSALIVATINGSOMUCHIT"SBASICALLYTHESEVENSEASINTHISBITCHGIVEMETHATMANRN
so with that being said.... HIS MAGIC??!!?!?! THE WINGS?!?!? we're fucking in the sky, people. WE ARE.
THE DEAD EYES, the constant tired but emotionless expression, it is *ahem* doing things to me BUT ESPECIALLY HIS ANNYOYING AS FUCKING HAIR I NEED TO SEE IT DOWN AND RUINED IDGAF. that one frame in the midst of the battle, WHERE HE HAD A FEW STRANDS ACROSS HIS FOREHEAD REALLY DID MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A VICTORIAN MAN SEEING SINFUL ANKLE WTF?!?!?
#needmoregenaucontent #arethereanygenaufangirls WHERE YALL AT???
pls there has to be other PPL SEEING THE APPEAL?
this edit takes up all the space in my head:
also also also don't get me started on these three:
"what happens next isnt suitable for it to witness" IS CRAZYYYYYY
he's traumatising stellablobbu light tew 💀
the amount of plushies, including bun bun, that have been SCARRED by xavier being freaky with mc?? omgg this man would fuck mc anywhere any anytime--- LOOK AT FLOOF ATTACK FOR REFERENCE?? ILL NEVER GET OVER THE FACT THAT THEY WERE IN A PUBLIC FLOWER SHOP.
His focus is maddening. That’s the first thought buzzing in your head as you sit curled in his lap, his long arms loosely caging you against him. The glow from the monitor spills across his face, pale light sharpening the line of his jaw, throwing silver glints through his ashy hair. His eyes stay fixed on the screen, blue and unwavering, not a flicker of distraction no matter how your body shifts on him.
It should irritate you, how calm he always is—should, but doesn’t. Because the steadiness in him is what makes your pulse trip over itself, what coils hot in your stomach as you grind the tiniest bit against the thick bulge pressed under you.
“Mm.” his voice is barely a breath, not even at you—just a low hum of concentration as his fingers move over the controller, sure and efficient. He doesn’t tense or falter. His arms only tighten infinitesimally around your waist, like he’s keeping you there without even thinking about it.
The friction makes you exhale shakily, tilting forward, then back, slow and needy. You know he notices it. Still, his gaze doesn’t break from the screen. That calm, unhurried energy of his only winds you tighter.
“You’re restless.” the words slip out of him so evenly you almost think you imagined them, his tone as steady as if he were announcing a game stat. His breath grazes your ear when he says it, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
You shift again, deliberately this time, pressing yourself harder against him. “Maybe you make me that way.”
Finally, his eyes flick down to you, just for a second, sharp blue catching yours. One corner of his mouth curves, a smirk so faint you might miss it if you weren’t this close. His voice stays maddeningly calm, like he’s still talking about the game and not about the way you’re moving on him. “Then keep going. Don’t stop on my account.”
The way he says it—steady, almost bored, but with that undertone you can feel more than hear—makes your thighs tighten around him, makes you lean into his chest because if he doesn’t react, you might come undone all on your own. And maybe that’s what drives you wild about him. Not the heat of his touch, not even the strength of his arms, but the fact that he can unravel you completely without breaking a sweat.
You grind down a little harder, biting back a sound when you feel him pulse against you. He exhales through his nose, unbothered, still perfectly focused, but his lips curve into the faintest smirk.
“You’re not even trying to hide it,” he murmurs, voice smooth and maddeningly steady. A calm command wrapped in soft amusement. “Go on. I can play and take care of you at the same time.”
You don’t even realize how much you’ve been squirming until he shifts beneath you. Not a twitch, not a flinch—just the slow, deliberate press of his thighs spreading wider, carrying yours with them until you’re open over him.
He still hasn’t looked away from the screen. The blue of his eyes stays locked on the game, his hair falling carelessly across his forehead, silver strands bright in the glow of the monitor. His fingers move steadily over the controller, precise, calm—and then his voice cuts through you like silk.
“Be good.” It’s soft, level, not a hint of strain, like he’s telling you something as ordinary as the time of day. But there’s no mistaking the command woven through it, firm and absolute. His chest rises against your back with an unhurried breath before he adds, “Touch yourself for me.”
Your thighs twitch, your whole body tightening from the inside out. Heat pools so fast you can’t breathe, can’t think, because it isn’t just the words, it’s the way he says them. Gentle. Steady. Calm, like this is nothing unusual, like you obeying him is the most natural thing in the world.
The shifting colors of the screen flicker against your skin as you sink further into him, unable to resist the way his voice lingers in your head, warm and calm even when it makes your pulse race. Your thighs tremble as your hand slips lower, fingers sliding beneath the thin fabric of your panties.
You don’t hesitate. Not when the ache has already built too far, not when his lap is solid beneath you, his bulge pressed against your core every time you shift. Your breath catches as your fingertips find that swollen bundle of nerves, circling gently at first, then quicker, your body arching just slightly into your own touch.
His reaction is maddeningly simple. A quiet hum. Approval, calm and soft, as if he already knew you’d do exactly as he told you.
Your own desperation fills the quiet between you, broken only by the steady click of his controller. There’s no shame left in the way your hand moves, slipping under the soft stretch of your panties, fingers sliding slick across your clit until your hips jerk helplessly in his lap.
A broken whimper escapes before you can bite it back. Xavier doesn’t flinch. His grip on the controller doesn’t falter, his expression calm, collected, like you writhing in his lap is just as natural as breathing. That soft, steady composure only drives you wilder, heat surging through you until your hand is working faster, your panties sticking against your folds.
“Xavi…” half of his name slips out in a shaky moan, desperate and needy. You want him—his mouth, his hands, his cock filling you deep the way only he can. Your slender fingers curl inside yourself, not nearly enough, the flutter of your walls clenching around emptiness making you whine softly against his shoulder.
Your whimpers spill out unbidden, breathy and needy, but he stays maddeningly composed. The calm rhythm of his play doesn’t waver, his gaze locked on the screen, jaw relaxed. If not for the steady pressure of his arm around you—if not for the heavy, hard weight of him beneath you—you could almost believe he wasn’t aware of what you’re doing.
When his name tumbles from your lips again, whispered like a plea, you expect him to shift. To finally look at you, to give you something, anything. Instead, he doesn’t so much as flick an eye in your direction.
And god, that wrecks you. Your pussy clenches tight around your fingers, the pace of your circles turning frantic because you need it. You need his hands, his mouth, his cock, the way he fills you until you’re sobbing his name, but all you have is the thin edge of your own touch. Not enough. Never enough.
Your moan cracks with need, his name spilling from you again, softer, rawer this time. The sound barely earns a shift in his breathing. He tilts his head slightly, hair falling across his temple, blue eyes still bright on the screen.
“Good girl.” the words are so calm, so unshaken, that your whole body arches for them. He doesn’t need to look at you, doesn’t need to touch you—just the weight of his voice alone has your thighs trembling, your fingers moving faster, chasing the high that only ever feels complete when it’s him driving you there.
And the worst part—the best part—is that you know he’ll let you fall apart like this, needy and desperate in his lap, until you’re begging properly. Until you can’t take another second without him.
The slick sounds of your fingers working yourself open fill the quiet between his calm breaths, between the rapid-fire clicks of his controller. You can’t bring yourself to care how shameless it is, grinding into him while chasing the coil of pleasure building fast inside you.
Your thighs quake around his, muscles tight and trembling as the coil inside you threatens to snap. You’re caught between the desperate rhythm of your fingers and the unrelenting stillness of him, the steady sounds of his game filling the room in sharp contrast to your broken whimpers.
Then his head dips, slow, unhurried, as if he’s finally granting you a sliver of his attention. The brush of his lips against your neck is so soft it almost undoes you on its own. When your body trembles with the first pulse of release, Xavier finally moves. His lips brush your neck in the faintest kiss, and his voice is a whisper so soft it makes you shiver. “Come, bunny.”
The simple words unravel you, and your orgasm crashes through, waves of heat and pulsing need rolling over you until you’re clenching down hard around your fingers, moaning against his chest.
His eyes never leave the screen, not even as your body jerks above him, not even as your breath falls apart in gasps and cries. His tone stays calm, but there’s steel beneath it, a quiet promise that makes your body tighten all over again.
“And after this game,” he murmurs, another gentle kiss pressed to your throat, warm, his voice lowering to a promise that makes your pussy clench hard around your fingers, “make no mistake that I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been begging for.”
Your body is still trembling faintly, aftershocks running through your thighs, but the ache inside you hasn’t dulled, not even close. You need him, more than the shiver of your own fingers, more than the teasing press of his arm around you while he plays. The game, the calm—his focus—it only fuels that ache deeper, until waiting feels unbearable.
You know Xavier well enough to recognize what this will get you: his approval, his disapproval, maybe both at once. But you also know he won’t truly be angry. He never is with you, not when you’re this soft, this needy.
So you slip from his lap with care, sliding down onto the floor between his legs. The coolness of the room contrasts with the heat of your skin, and you turn toward him, resting against his thighs, your cheek brushing the edge of his shorts. His legs spread instinctively, a little wider, accommodating you.
You press a kiss against his bare skin, then another, trailing along the muscle of his thigh. His eyes remain on the screen, hands steady on the controller, as though you aren’t unraveling against him.
“Xavier…” your voice is hushed, sweet, but bold at the same time—an innocence threaded through with hunger. You know it will twist something in him, the way you sound when you beg like this. “Please… look at me. I need you, baby.”
You’re already tugging lightly at the hem of his shorts, pressing a kiss against the hard outline beneath them. His cock strains against the fabric, heat radiating through, and your breath catches. Boldness pushes your fingers lower, slipping beneath the band of his shorts and boxers, tugging them down. The sight makes your mouth water. He’s flushed, already leaking, thick and perfect for your lips.
Still, he doesn’t look down. That calm, unshaken focus makes you ache more. So you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the swollen head before wrapping your lips around him, sliding him into your mouth with desperate eagerness. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, whimpering softly at the weight, the taste.
Normally, he’d pet your hair, guide you, praise you as you take him. But his hands remain firmly on the controller. That calm composure drives you to suck harder, to hollow your cheeks and bob your head with more need, as if you can force him to break.
The game’s sounds continue in the background, but you hear it—that subtle change in pace. A click, the faint hum of completion. And then the controller is set down. A heartbeat later, his hand slides into your hair, firm and warm, finally grounding you to him. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes you down slowly, steadily, until you take him all, his cock filling your throat.
You gag softly, tears pricking your lashes, but his calm voice soothes through it, low and certain. “That’s it. Good.”
He holds you there just long enough, then lets you pull back, only to guide you down again, and again, until your throat is raw and your lips swollen. His blue eyes finally drop to you, sharp and unwavering, watching the way you fall apart on him.
It doesn’t take long before he groans, low and restrained, hips jerking subtly. His cock twitches against your tongue, and then he spills down your throat, hot and thick. The praise follows, just as soft and calm as everything else he does, but it makes your body clench like you’re about to break all over again. “Good girl. That’s exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
Your lips are still tingling, throat raw with the taste of him, when you dare to lift your gaze up at him—expecting, hoping, imagining what he’ll do to you now that his calm blue eyes have finally settled on you.
But instead of pulling you back into his lap, instead of kissing you like you crave, he reaches forward and calmly picks the controller back up. The sound of the game fills the air again, and you blink, breathless, trembling, caught between disbelief and a strange, needy ache that only deepens at his composure.
“You should have waited for me to finish the game.” his voice is level, soft as ever, the same tone he uses for everything, yet the weight behind it makes your chest tighten. “This is what you get for not listening.”
You know he isn’t truly angry. This is foreplay. He’s teasing you, stretching the ache inside you into something unbearable. But still, your lips push into a pout as the glow from the screen steals his attention back.
“Xavier…” your whisper is almost a whine, petulant and desperate, but he doesn’t look away.
“Climb up.” the words are calm, even indifferent, as though he’s telling you to pass him something off the table. “Take what you want yourself. I’m not going to help.”
The heat in your belly flares at the command, even as frustration twists in your chest. You shift back onto his lap, your panties sticking uncomfortably against your slick skin, and push the fabric aside with trembling fingers. His cock is still flushed, hard, glistening from your mouth.
You line yourself up and sink down onto him, biting back a moan as your walls stretch around him. The sensation is dizzying, almost too much after the way you came before, but the lack of his hands on you—the absence of his mouth, his touch—makes it worse.
You move, bouncing in his lap with ragged breaths, your hands clutching at his shoulders for balance. His arms remain steady around the controller, his gaze fixed on the game. It’s almost unbearable, how unbothered he is while you come apart on him.
“I’m sorry…” you whisper against his ear, your voice breaking with every thrust of your hips. “Please… help me.”
But his attention doesn’t shift. His calm voice brushes over you, soft as silk, cool as glass. “Keep going.”
You whine, your thighs already trembling, sweat beading at your temples. Each bounce gets weaker, sloppier, your body desperate for him to move, to hold, to thrust—anything. But he doesn’t. And every time the orgasm teases at the edge, it slips away, lost with your fading strength. Frustration builds behind your moans, your lips brushing his neck as you beg softer, needier, “Please, Xavier, I can’t—”
“Keep going,” he repeats, coaxing, indifferent. His composure is infuriating, intoxicating. Because you know he’ll only let you break when he decides you’ve begged enough.
Your thighs ache, every bounce weaker than the last, tears brimming in your eyes from the frustration of wanting more, wanting him. You bury your face in his neck, whimpering into his skin, the desperation in you starting to blur into something raw.
But Xavier doesn’t falter. His voice is the same calm, coaxing cadence, smooth and unshaken. “Not yet. You need to cum first, bunny. Learn your lesson.”
Your whole body trembles. His words land like silk-wrapped iron—gentle but immovable. You grip onto him tighter, whining, forcing your body to move harder, chasing the high that keeps slipping away.
“Xavi—please…” your voice cracks, soft and shaky against his throat, but you don’t stop. Your hips stutter, bouncing with uneven, desperate motions until finally, the coil snaps.
The orgasm hits, but it’s fragile, broken by exhaustion. Your moan comes out quiet, barely a sound, and it doesn’t leave you satisfied, just shaking, panting, tears clinging to your lashes.
At last, his eyes flicker down to you. Blue, steady, seeing everything. And though you’re not truly upset, not really, he reads the fine line you’ve walked under his indifference. The controller slips from his hands without ceremony, and his arms are around you in an instant, coddling you close against his chest.
You kiss him desperately, relief flooding through you, clinging to the warmth of his mouth like air after drowning. Your pout is still there, trembling, even as his body shifts, pressing you back into the couch, his weight hovering over you.
“Xavier…” you whisper against his lips, your fingers already tugging at him, needy for his touch.
He answers with action, his hand sliding down between your thighs, fingers finding your clit in slow, teasing circles that make you jolt. Then he slips two fingers inside you, curling perfectly, and the broken moan that rips out of you is louder, rawer than before.
“That’s better,” he murmurs, calm as ever, though you can hear the pleased note under it, the quiet satisfaction at how much needier you are now.
“Not fair,” you pout, stroking his flushed cock with shaky fingers, your voice caught between a whine and a plea. “You were paying more attention to the game than me…”
He hums, the corner of his lips curving as his cock throbs in your grip. He leans closer, his voice steady, low, unshaken. “Now…” his smirk deepens, “…you have all my attention.”
And it’s true. His focus is entirely on you as he pulls his hand away, replacing it with the heat of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance. His grip settles firm on your hips, anchoring you as he thrusts in deep, stretching you perfectly.
Your cry fills the room as he finds every soft spot inside you, his rhythm steady, purposeful—each thrust pushing deeper, knowing exactly how to unravel you. His eyes stay on you now, unwavering, the calm blue gaze drinking in every desperate moan, every arch of your back, every trembling pout of your lips.
Your body arches helplessly into every thrust, his cock dragging so deep you swear he’s marking you from the inside. His hands are firm at your hips, guiding you just enough to keep you steady while he sets the rhythm—slow at first, deliberate, each snap of his hips pressing into the spots that make your walls flutter around him.
You whimper, fingers clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more. “Xavier—please, faster…”
His blue eyes pin you, calm as ever even while his cock is buried inside you. That steady voice curls around your ears, soft and certain. “I’ll give you what you want, bunny. You just have to take it.”
He rolls his hips harder, deeper, the angle perfect, and your moan cracks apart. The wet slap of your bodies fills the room now, every thrust shoving you closer, every drag of his cock against your swollen walls tugging another broken sound from your throat.
Your nails dig into him, clinging, and he only smirks faintly, pleased with how wrecked you’re getting. “Needier tonight,” he teases softly, his lips brushing your cheek as he speaks, unbothered, calm even as you fall apart beneath him.
“You ignored me,” you pout, breathless, your voice breaking into another moan when his pace quickens, hips slamming harder. “Wanted you too much—”
“Shh.” his hand slides between you, thumb circling your clit with perfect pressure, the rhythm syncing with his thrusts until your whole body trembles. “You’ve got me now.”
Your orgasm crashes in fast, shattering through you with a cry, your walls clenching tight around him as your hips buck helplessly against his grip. He fucks you through it, pace relentless, holding you right on that edge where pleasure and overstimulation blur.
And when you start to whine, too sensitive, his voice steadies you, coaxing, calm even as his thrusts grow rougher. “One more, bunny. Cum for me again.”
You can’t think, can’t breathe—you can only obey. Another orgasm tears through you, soaking him, and that’s when his composure finally cracks. His jaw tightens, a groan slipping free as his hips slam into yours, burying himself deep before spilling hot inside you.
His hand steadies your shaking body, pulling you close against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as your aftershocks pulse around him.
“That’s it,” he breathes, softer now, calm again but tinged with warmth. “Good girl. Knew you could take it.”
And even as exhaustion drags you under, you smile faintly, because this time, all of his attention is yours.
IS the innocent pet animal, turned human-animal hybrid creature-oid thing STILL AN ALIVE TROPE???
i remember this being a trope popular (in my degenerative fandom spheres,) in the 2010s AND WHEN I TELL YOU I ATE THAT SHIT UP??? lived it, absolutely breathed it. AND I ALWAYS THINK ABOUT IT. but I haven't seen any fanfics with this trope recently LIKE for at least these past 3-4 years ---
AND IT MAKES ME UPSET. I loved that shit. SOMEONE PLEASEEE TELL ME YOU KNEOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT
(yer super cewl if yk about the bunny one with jeon jungkook 😋😋)
orrrr if this trope has become taboo cause... yeah.
IS the innocent pet animal, turned human-animal hybrid creature-oid thing STILL AN ALIVE TROPE???
i remember this being a trope popular (in my degenerative fandom spheres,) in the 2010s AND WHEN I TELL YOU I ATE THAT SHIT UP??? lived it, absolutely breathed it. AND I ALWAYS THINK ABOUT IT. but I haven't seen any fanfics with this trope recently LIKE for at least these past 3-4 years ---
AND IT MAKES ME UPSET. I loved that shit. SOMEONE PLEASEEE TELL ME YOU KNEOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT
(yer super cewl if yk about the bunny one with jeon jungkook 😋😋)
orrrr if this trope has become taboo cause... yeah.
