-> yandere tyrant xavier x fem!reader (based on the current xavier’s myth) || genre: dark romance, dub-con, yandere, nsfw
warnings: possessive behavior, non-consensual impregnation (babytrapping), overstimulation, dub-con language and dynamics, isolation, size kink, creampie, petnames (princess, chosen one), mind games, manipulative comfort, lingerie mention (Divider credit: @/uzmacchiato)
The wind outside howled against the stone walls of the high tower, but within the heavy velvet curtains and golden glow of the firelight, the world was quiet. Still. Too still. When the revanants urged you to slay the said Tyrant, you weren’t sure what exactly awaited you.
You sat by the hearth, dressed in soft lavender silk — a chemise too delicate to be anything but chosen by someone else, someone with power. The fire crackled beside you, but it did little to thaw the chill in your chest. You could still hear the songs and hymns sung in your praise while your heart fluttered, confusion and haze thickened in your mind like fog. You shiver.
The cold wasn’t from the weather. It was from being so far away. From home. From Philos. From everything that once made you feel free. And then if you add the blurry memories that stab you from time to time… it’s demented torture. It’s hell.
“You look beautiful like that,” came a voice behind you — low, silken, threaded with that slow, measured cadence that never failed to make your stomach twist. Xavier…
You didn’t turn to look. You didn’t need to. Sometimes you evade the harshness of his eyes, sometimes you want to match it like crest and troughs of the ocean waves.
Xavier moved like a shadow draped in royalty. Clad in black and crimson robes trimmed with gold, his dark hair fell just past his shoulders, and that gaze — gods, that gaze — burned with the kind of hunger that no tyrant should ever be allowed to possess.
“You’re quiet tonight, Princess,” he said, voice purring in your ear now as he moved to stand behind your chair. His hand slid across your bare shoulder, fingers tracing the strap of the silk. “Is the silence finally sinking in? Or are you still trying to run your mind galloping like a feeble mare?” Feeble… tsk.
You stiffened. “Help me go back.”
A pause. Then a snort, slow and indulgent. Xavier was usually a serious and stern man, but your presence made things light-hearted almost. He doesn’t want you to go back to Philos. That’s the last thing he wants.
“My Chosen One…” His lips brushed the crown of your head. “There is nothing left to go back to. Philos is ashes. And you? You’re somehow sent to me..” again. Again. Why would he let this chance go. Centuries of delirious and violent yearning had rotten his brain, and heart.
You stood abruptly, heart pounding. “I never chose this. I don’t even know who I am… I just have fragments of Philos in my memory—“
His smile was patient. And somehow twisted.
“No,” he murmured. “But fate did. And I simply obeyed its will.” Oh you… gifted to me with flesh and blood and life not waxing and waning like the moon.
With a snap of his fingers, the lanterns in the chamber dimmed. His evol, no doubt — his control reached every inch of the fortress. He circled you like a predator playing with his food, his metallic gloved hands tracing the marble pillars as he walked.
“You’ve been here for three weeks now,” he said thoughtfully. “Three weeks of warm soup, silk sheets, and me keeping my hands to myself. I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?”
You swallowed, fists clenched.
“And yet,” Xavier continued, his gaze dragging over your body with unrepentant lust, “you still pretend like you don’t feel the bond that ties us together. Like you don’t ache when I look at you.”
“I don’t want you,” you snapped.
He was in front of you in an instant.
“That’s not what your body says when you cry my name in your sleep,” he whispered.
You slapped him. So he has been watching you sleep… deliriously… the hell. Yes, you do moan and sometimes scream his name. You see a different version than this cruel Tyrant. You see your lightseeker….
The sound echoed, sharp and defiant. Your breath came in fast bursts as the silence pressed down between you.
Xavier’s expression didn’t twist with rage. It softened. Darkened. The kind of expression only a man with absolute power could afford to wear.
“So we’ve reached that point, then,” he murmured. “You’re trying to punish me. Break me. Deny me.”
He tilted your chin up with two fingers, and even though you hated the warmth that flooded your core, you couldn’t stop the tiny gasp that left your lips. “I guess I deserve it, most of it. I made you feel abandoned at a time you don’t even remember.”
“Fine,” he whispered. “I’ll stop waiting for you to admit it.”
He swept you into his arms like you weighed nothing, ignoring your yelp, and laid you down on the massive four-poster bed, draped in red and black sheets. The same bed you hadn’t dared to sleep in yet.
“Xavier—” you began, but he covered your mouth with his own — a slow, possessive kiss that stole your breath and made your thighs clench. His tongue moved with cruel precision, coaxing your body to respond even as your mind screamed no.
“You can pretend all you want,” he growled, breaking the kiss. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. Heard the soft little moans you make at night.”
He pulled your silk chemise down, revealing your bare chest to the cool air and his greedy gaze.
“And I’ve waited long enough.”
You pushed at his chest. He didn’t budge. Meek and fragile. Almost pathetic. Almost like you wanted & yearned for it.
“You’re going to take this, Princess,” he whispered, “and you’re going to learn exactly what it means to be mine.”
He shed his robe slowly, deliberately — his broad chest and taut muscles bathed in firelight. His belt came next, and you turned your head, heat creeping up your neck in spite of yourself.
He grabbed your thighs, spreading them wide, the silk riding up to your hips. You whimpered, both from the shock of exposure and the sheer power of his grip. It was sure to bruise at your thighs purple.
“Don’t make me bind you to the bed,” he warned, voice far too gentle to sound like an actual threat.
He slid his fingers between your folds, and you hated the way your hips lifted into the touch. A smug grin plastered over his face. “See? Pathetic and needy but you wouldn’t admit it would you?”
“Already wet,” he purred. “See? Your body knows who it belongs to. Wish your stupid mind could accept soon.”
You bit your lip, trying to contain the sob building in your throat. He was too much — too big, too close, too certain. And too good.
And then he was inside you. Before you could blink, you could resist, or you could mentally prepare yourself to actually accept him. All your thoughts are numbed down.
He didn’t give you time to adjust — just slow, stretching pressure that had your back arching off the bed, mouth open in a wordless cry. He bottomed out with a groan, his grip bruising on your hips. Thick cock with veins eager with centuries of contained lust. You would be his broken doll tonight.
“Shh, Princess,” he whispered against your throat. “Let me fill you up. Let me make you a mother.”
Your eyes widened in horror. Somehow mingled with anticipation, too. You couldn’t even understand what you wanted at this point.
“Oh, I can,” he said, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. “And I will.” His weight made the force of his thrusts delicious and delectable, thick cock scraping against your velvety walls. Over and over and over and over—
Each thrust was a claim — brutal, deep, consuming. He fucked you like you were a vessel for his legacy, like your body existed only to carry his heir. Like all the torture he went through needed an outlet. Like he finally can show you how crazy you’ve made him.
“You’ll be round with my child by the next few months,” he growled, his breath ragged as he fucked you harder. “No more Philos. No more running. Just you. Mine. Forever.”
Tears spilled down your cheeks. But so did slick.
Your body betrayed you — hips rising, walls clenching, every overstimulated nerve lighting up. He felt it. Smirked.
“That’s it, Chosen One,” he murmured. “Come for me. Let me breed you properly.”
You tried to resist, but your climax hit like a storm — your back bowed, a broken sob ripped from your throat as your body spasmed around him. And he didn’t stop.
You lost count after the second orgasm. He flipped you on your stomach, lifted your hips, and drove back into you like a man possessed. Your legs trembled. Your vision blurred. m
“Take it,” he growled, voice low and animal. “Be good for your Tyrant. Isn’t that what I am? Your Tyrant Xavier who will annihilate everything on sight if it dares to take you away from me again.”
And when he finally tipped off the edge — with a deep groan and his seed spilling hot and thick inside you, he stayed buried there, holding your shaking body against his chest.
“You’ll carry our future,” he whispered against your ear. “You were born to. You came back to me for it. You’re my second chance.”
You sobbed once, exhausted, broken. But even then, he didn’t let you go.
He wrapped you in his arms and covered you both in the heavy crimson duvet. His hand rested low on your belly, possessive and warm.
“You’ll see, Princess,” he murmured as you drifted into sleep. “In time… you’ll thank me for this. All in due time.”
And even though you don’t understand Xavier’s feelings, even though you wonder what made him this way. When your memories would come back, maybe you’d be happy that your sparring partner is still by your side…
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