finallyyyyyyyyyyy done with sylus's birthday art. it's late bc i was the sleepiest girl in the whole world the last few days :') too tired after work to draw
Xavier wants you to take what you need
content: ovulation, morning sex, pussy job
You wake with your thighs rubbing together, seeking the friction that had eluded you in your hazy, heat-filled dreams. Buried under his soft sheets with your face in his pillow, you're surrounded by his warmth and familiar scent, whining and rolling your hips into the mattress.
Half-coherent and driven by need, you shift, flopping your head to the other side to view your boyfriend. Xavier's soft lips are parted slightly, deep, even breaths escaping him in his peaceful slumber.
"Xavier," you mumble, poking him, tugging at his loose, white t-shirt.
He hums, fingers gliding up to hold yours, but otherwise doesn't stir.
"Xavierrr," you whine, nudging his shoulder, then shaking him gently until he grunts, brows furrowing before his eyes slowly blink open.
"Mm?" Xavier hums in question, long lashes fluttering, blue eyes glazed over and softening when you're the first thing he sees. His jaw goes slack when he lets out a yawn, and you bite your lip, warm with affection at seeing him all sleepy and cute. His voice is deeper, thick when he asks you, "What is it?"
You try to stifle your grinding against the bed, but he pulls you close, going for those habitual early morning snuggles. You hiss when your throbbing core brushes against his knee, trying not to whimper or grind down onto it.
But he senses your restlessness, gaze honing in on the not so subtle movements of your hips, your little jolts under the sheets. Xavier tilts his head, bangs falling across his eyes as he smirks into the pillow.
In one swift movement, he hooks his hand under your knee, tugging your leg over his thigh. You can feel the muscles of it flex through his thin sleep shorts, pressing up against you to silently encourage you to grind against it.
You fall into his offer easily, burying your face into his neck. His skin is so warm, so soft, begging to be sucked and marked.
Mouthing at it mindlessly, you moan his name, teeth grazing along his slow and steady pulse. A content sound rumbles from his broad chest, where your breasts nearly spill out of your rumpled tank top to push against it.
Then he mumbles, grabbing at his phone on the bedside table.
"What—" You suck in a breath, moaning as you rotate your hips, finding a spot in your dry humping that sends pleasure sparking straight from your clit to your core. "What are you doing?"
"Checking," Xavier says unhelpfully, squinting against the brightness of his phone screen in the dim light of his bedroom.
"Checking what?"
His voice is melodic, content when he replies, "You’re ovulating."
You huff, pulling back from his spit-slicked, love-bitten neck to see him smiling at you in satisfaction.
Your hand finds his chin, squishing his cheeks.
"Cocky," you accuse breathlessly, your grip landing on his shoulder to leverage yourself over him.
You straddle his strong thigh, head tossed back as you grind up and down, bouncing on it. Following that build of hot tension coiling in your gut, your own thighs squeezing and shaking around his.
Xavier hums, hungrily eyeing the peek down your disheveled tank top to your bouncing breasts. Your nipples are hard, clearly visible and tempting, and he licks his lips.
Lost in your pleasure, you miss the wicked spark of mischief in his eyes before he closes them, leaning his head back against the pillow.
"I’m sleepy."
You freeze in your eager movements, mouth agape.
"Really, Xav?" you whine, hips wiggling against him before you force yourself to still.
You wouldn't be mad if he was too tired to deal with it right now. But being this horny and wet and nearly out of your mind with it, you'd have to find some other way to cum.
Did you leave your vibrator in his drawer? He wouldn't mind if you pulled it out, right?
You're about to ask when his slender fingers brush against your pelvis, finding where your shirt had ridden up. His calluses graze along the trim of your panties, and your muscles jump in sensitivity, before he moves to shift his own shirt up.
The fabric settles around his soft tummy, and he strokes those long fingers across his smooth skin, down the trail of silver hair that disappears beneath his sleep shorts. He tugs the waistband down, revealing the gray band of his briefs, and just a hint of the mouth-watering, heavy bulge straining against the tight fabric.
"Feel free to use me as you please, angel," Xavier murmurs, blue eyes dark and fixed on you through heavy lids.
You inhale sharply, staring at him wide-eyed.
"Really?" Your fingers brush against the gray band, and you tug down his sleep shorts more to see his growing erection. "You're sure?"
Xavier nods his consent, watching you lazily, his hand curling around the back of your thigh. His fingertips dig into your plush skin, stroking higher to find where your slick had soaked through your panties, dampening your inner thighs.
He tugs you forward, encouraging you to sit yourself on where he hangs, hot and heavy between his legs. You moan at the shock of pleasure, even with the thin layers of fabric still between you.
"Yes," Xavier moans his assurance, his eyes locked onto yours. "Take what you need from me. I wanna watch you."
At his encouragement, you hook your thumbs into his briefs, pulling them down with his shorts until you finally see him, thick and throbbing, waiting for you. You drag your finger along the pulsating vein on the underside of his cock and watch him twitch, your pussy fluttering in anticipation.
You stroke him slowly, palm slick with your own spit, just admiring how ruddy his tip gets before it begins to leak precum. Your thumb circles it, dipping into his hole to watch it stick to your skin when you pull back.
His breaths are slow and even, but his hips roll gently into your grasp, his languid gaze not lifting from you for a second.
"Don't you want it?" he teases you, his slickened cock thrusting up once through your fingers, and you shiver. "It's all for you. Take it."
You hear the soft intake of his breath, matching your own gasp when you finally tug your ruined panties to the side to brush your drenched cunt against him.
Your hips roll, trapping his length between his abdomen and your pussy, encompassing him in the glide along your wet lips, languid and unhurried in the early morning light.
"There you go," Xavier breathes, his thumb rubbing along your inner thigh. "What a pretty sight. Just for me," the last part is mumbled to himself, and you bite your lip to stifle a whine.
Your breathing grows heavy, head falling back between your shoulders, vision unfocused on the star-shaped fairy lights that hang from the corner of his ceiling while you grind along his cock. You gasp each time his head notches on your entrance, trying to eagerly suck him in with each pass, and moan when he slips back out to rub against your aching clit.
When you turn your attention back to Xavier, his arm is stretched out beside his head, fingers twitching. His Adam's apple bobs, the hickeys you just left littering the side of his neck as he watches you with half-lidded eyes, fluffy hair fanned out against his pillow. Not caring about his own pleasure, just enjoying seeing you take yours.
"You're so pretty," you whisper, watching how his eyelashes flutter, his brows pinching with a quiet moan at your praise. "You know that, right? So, so pretty."
You glance down, watching each time his reddened tip reappears from under your grinding, slicker with each pass.
"Such a pretty cock, too," you praise, and you feel him twitch at your words, throbbing within your folds. "Mine."
His face is flushed when you look back up at him, aroused and bashful in equal measures.
"Yours," he breathes, and you feel yourself start to fall apart.
Your hips quicken, jerking back and forth rapidly, that cord of pleasure tightening in your core, at the base of your spine.
Honestly, you could come like this, and the longer you watch him, utterly relaxed and drinking in the sight of you, the more you want to.
You grip his cock, moaning when he grunts, and tap his drenched tip against your clit, hips jolting with the pleasure that shoots through you.
"F-fuck," you gasp.
Thighs trembling, you rub yourself against the head of his cock, using him to get yourself off. You buck against the stimulation when his leaking hole catches against your clit, circling it.
"Wanna watch you cum right on my clit." Louder moans escape you as you feel that pleasure sparking, brightening, about to consume you. "I wanna see it, Xavier, please. Please?"
You look up at him through your lashes, completely debauched and so close to your orgasm, desperate for it, and Xavier breaks.
His eyes go wide and glazed over; broken, stuttered moans and gasps escaping where he'd been biting his own lip when he cums.
You whine, watching each load flood, hot and slick against your clit. It drips down where your hand grips him, still rubbing his tip against yourself as his cum shoots from it, and you cry out, short and sharp, when you cum right after him.
The orgasm blooms from your center, warming you with each wave, leaving him drenched, from his happy trail up to his abdomen. As the peak begins to ebb, you try and catch yourself on your arm, but your limbs give out, and you collapse onto his chest as he pants for breath.
Xavier's arms wrap around you instantly, gathering you close, and you curl into him, hips still twitching from the strength of your orgasm.
He presses soft kisses into your hair, and down your face. His thumb finds your chin, and he tilts your head back, meeting your lips in a long, content kiss.
"Feel better?" he asks, warm breath caressing your lips.
You burrow into him with a happy hum. "Much better."
"Mm, good." Xavier's fingers rub soothing circles into your inner thigh before dragging up through your folds, collecting the strings of cum before pushing them into your neglected hole.
You moan from the overstimulation, holding onto him tighter as he slowly scissors them, pumping in and out.
He sounds utterly serene when he kisses your forehead, but you hear the smirk in his voice when he says, "Now we have the rest of the day to make sure you don't waste another drop."
★pairing: king of darknight!xavier x f!reader/mc
★wc: 2.7k
★content: spoilers for where stars scatter myth. smut, throne sex, piv, praise kink, biting kink, claiming. angst, internal monologue, yearning, mutual pining, obsessive & possessive xavier, with mentions of his previous lies. inspired by the gilded dreams secret times.
★masterlist
You can't recall just how you ended up in this position. It's hard to think at all with the strong arms wrapped around your waist, cool armor pressed to your chest through the thin cloth of your dress with each slow, deep roll of his hips upwards into yours.
You know it started with the clash of steel and the strong scent of iron permeating the air. Just moments ago you ran through the halls, your heart in your throat and your staff of light materializing in your hands, only for the assassins to be evaporating to dust by the time you rushed into the main hall.
And there he lounged on the throne he had always rebuked, no evidence of a struggle other than the hilt of the greatsword still clutched in one gauntlet, the other bare hand unhurriedly wiping at a smear of dark red across his cheek.
Your king. A dream long before that, a distant light of happier memories, forgotten in centuries of darkness, of waiting. And even longer before that, he had been a companion. Your dearest friend.
"Xavier," you had breathed, just for that briefest of moments where you got to see him nearly falter from the taunt of familiarity in your tone, leaving him wondering if it was yet another dream of you.
You were by his side in an instant. Like you had been trained to do, like the instincts to never be parted from him that still sang in your pulsing blood urged from you.
"That's not my blood," he brushed aside your concerns over him, and you laughed, dark and bitter under your breath.
Like you're not used to his lies. Like you're not the only two beings in this entire world with blood still rushing through your veins.
It is a strange thing, to see him bleed. Even though he is now a familiar face once more, the feelings you'd harbored for countless ages surging up like waves to crash relentlessly against the shore of your mind each time you see him now, there are still so many things you can't remember of your time together.
Had he gotten injured before? If so, were you the one to bandage him up? To heal him with your own hands, to nurse him back to health?
That was how it had started. Fixated on his blood, still wet on your thumb when you wiped it off his chin, body tensed in tune with the subtle hitch in his breath.
The rest is still a blur, intoxication from closeness that had once been so well-known, still etched bone-deep within you when you sat yourself into his lap. Setting yourself as the perfect, pretty bait.
The King of Darknight's whispers, all temptation and dark promises, wrap around you, ensnaring you to him like he was the one who set the trap. A tether of light and darkness, forces forever at play, two halves of a whole made to move in coordination.
He leans back in his throne, gauntlet curled loosely around your waist, tightening his grip on you when you easily shift forward into his chest. Following that natural instinct to stay close, to always stay together.
You struggle with his armor, on a single-minded quest to find his elusive injuries, and he doesn't let you.
He never lets you see him without those walls, to let you have all of him. Even as he himself yearns for you, as he effortlessly demands for all of you, to reclaim every little part that had been lost to him through the cruel, relentless passage of time.
From the charming, gentle prince you'd grown alongside to this Mad King, the Sinner of Philos. A mystery that tenses under your desperate, wandering hands.
It's not fair. It has never been fair with him.
You're frustrated, and he can feel it. Xavier's grip goes lax around your wrists, allowing you to toss useless pieces of armor to the ground. He lets you feel for the soft skin of him, proof of his existence, of his promised return, his body still hidden underneath dark robes that are nothing like what the man you had once loved would've worn.
All the while, he murmurs into your ear, dark words that curl around your spine and dance in shivers down it to the base. Heat pools in your stomach as he urges you on, to take what you want from him, what you need from your king.
Your wit matches his in breathless banter as much as your swords once met in friendly duels, practice bouts to exert your frustrations out in a time long past. A failed exam or an overbearing father, things had seemed so much simpler then, like there were so many places you could still run away to.
Maybe if he had taken your hand and urged you to elope just one more time, told you once more of that beautiful, little planet just for the two of you, you would have gone.
But you're here instead, rocking forward in the Tyrant's lap, hot pleasure sparking from where your clothed core rubs over the curved edge of his growing arousal, still trapped within the dark confines of this new garb of his lonely reign.
He teases you, like he'd always done. It's both familiar and entirely unknown, looking down into sharp blue eyes that watch your every increasingly desperate move with rapt intrigue that bleeds into something darker.
His own affection you'd overlooked in your youthful, blind infatuation grows teeth and claws that dig into you with hardly contained obsession, grown in the dark of centuries without you.
You scramble for the fabric constraining him as his hands glide up your legs, lifting your skirt.
There's no pretense, no buildup when the weeping head of him catches on your dripping entrance. There is only pure relief when you ease down onto him, until you're both where you had always belonged.
It's addicting and entirely unreal, to know this is your sworn knight sinking inside of you, even with the dark crown weighing atop his head as his forehead rests against yours.
His heated breaths warm your parted lips as you eagerly accept him. Your wet heat sucks him in bit by bit until he's as far as he can get, holding onto you for dear life, like he expects to blink awake to you gone again.
He lifts you slowly, as easily as he does that monstrosity of a sword that lays forgotten beside his throne now that he has you in it. You moan in unison when he brings you back down again, sinking into you as much as the reality of this slowly sinks in, as impossible as it seems to finally have this moment.
"Listen to you," Xavier sighs, pure relief and idolatry twisted within him as you sink down onto him again under his careful guidance.
His hands are as steadfast as they had always been, even as they had seen so much more violence in your time grown apart. They are gentle again when they remember the feel of your skin against his.
"You're so wet, my queen," he praises, lips skimming your ear.
And you hear it, the squelch of your body taking him intimately under the low, heady tone of his praise.
You whimper, burying your face into his hair, tangling your fingers into the long, soft strands.
"Don't say—"
He bucks his hips up, smacking his hips against yours, loud and wet, and it steals the breath from your lungs.
You suck the air back in with a choked whine when he pulls back out almost entirely, just to sink slowly back in, grinding his hips up against yours when you're seated on his lap once more.
"What was that?" he murmurs, all dark, smug satisfaction.
You punch him in the shoulder out of reflex, hearing the taunting of a lost duel from your academy days buried underneath the ingrained arrogance of an uncontested leader of a fallen kingdom.
Your face buries against his neck, sweat beading at the nape of it from his carefully controlled exertion, even as he hangs on the edge of losing it. Your tongue laps out, mindless in your consumption of him, and you both moan again when he twitches deep inside of you.
"Don't say such obscene things," you demand, your fist curling into his robe, holding onto him when he bucks up into you again, and again, jostling you in his lap with each mind-numbing jolt of pleasure.
"You don't like it?" he taunts, and you wrap yourself around him, arms around his neck so tight that you hear him suck in a sharp breath.
You relax your grip just slightly, but he holds you closer, encouraging you to claim him, to make him yours.
You hold on for dear life with each drive of himself inside of you, as far as he could reach so as to leave a space for himself in your very being, so you never forgot him again.
His obsession is thinly veiled now that you're joined like this, with the echo of forget him in your ears even as he was unknowingly making such a demand impossible. Your mind drifts farther and farther into a golden haze, reminiscent of the way he once used to glow whenever you made him happy.
"But your entire body is responding to me so well," Xavier praises, and your head tilts back.
His lips attach to your neck to plant wet kisses along the length of it when you present him with another ripe opportunity to claim you. To leave his mark so you would remember the feel of him, the weight of his presence, the certainty of his devotion whenever you were apart—which you never would be, if either of you had a say in the course of fate, try as you both did to master it.
"Aren't you?" he urges, confident even as he yearned for your confirmation, your pleasure, for you.
You moan, quietly, then louder when the nails of his bare hand slip underneath your dress to dig into the soft plushness of your thigh.
"What did you say, my queen?" his dark voice takes on a melodic lilt, teasing again, with that newfound arrogance that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine when he was seated this deep inside of you.
"I am a queen no longer," you answer instead, clinging desperately to familiar banter, trying to ground yourself as the wet smacks of your lovemaking echo in the long, empty hall. The place you'd once waited centuries for him, and where he had waited for you long after.
"This throne belongs to the both of us," Xavier assures you, kissing along your collarbone, tugging the neckline of your dress down to suck bruises into the soft skin of your breasts. "It is yours as much as mine. Do we not make such a claim on it now?"
He lifts you up with his armored hand to yank you back down onto his throbbing cock, filling you again suddenly and completely, as if to drive any lingering doubt of his affection from your mind, and you cry out for him.
"I—" you pant heavily, searching for the thoughts that successfully scatter from your mind. "We never wedded. How am I your queen?"
"You told me you would be." Xavier tugs your dress down further and bites gently around your breast, tongue flicking across the sensitive nipple, and your walls spasm around him. Your arousal gushes out and drenches his lap further, pulling a groan from deep within his throat. "You told me you would become my only important person. Do you rescind your word now that you are?"
When you have always been so? you hear unspoken in the way he possesses you until he's all you can think of, until his love is all you've known.
"N-no," you gasp out, your thighs working to meet each of his thrusts upwards in this old competitive nature, in this new dance. Your hand fists in his hair, pulling his head back, and his jaw drops open when his blown wide pupils meet yours. "I am not the one who does so."
Xavier's brow furrows, gaze darkening as he glances over your face; the determination set in your jaw, and the longing that still lingers on you like the nostalgia of a well-loved perfume, learned for so long that it lasts even now when you are finally together.
His expression softens. For a moment, you see him not as hardened, no longer a disillusioned man cursed to live for so long alone, chained with rule that he'd never once wanted.
But somebody gentler, who once grew flowers until they bloomed. A soft soul who spoke of the power of stories, how the simple act of remembrance meant a lost loved one would always be with you.
"Kiss me," he breathes, not the command of a king, but the devotion of a knight, one that had sworn to stay by your side when this throne had once been yours.
Your lips meet his, with as much disbelief and dream-like desperation as in that field of flowers. A kiss from him still doesn't feel real, even as he gives them to you again and again, whimpering softly as his tongue presses past your lips to taste you.
You hear the wet squelching of your joining, your eyelashes fluttering when his hand slips further under your dress, thumb collecting the slick of your coupling to rub against the apex of your pleasure, your thighs twitching with your breathless cry.
"Oh, fuck," he breathes near silently, moaning into your mouth with the clench of your walls around him at the sound of his pleasure, the tangible proof of your effect on him, even with the cool air of aloofness he'd put on since your reunion. "I can't—"
"I know," you whisper, clinging to him as you roll your hips against his thumb and the grinding of his cock against that spot that makes stars spark behind your eyelids. "Xavier!"
"Please," he begs, a crack in his low tone, a falter in his carefully constructed walls as the wet warmth of you consumes him. "I need you. I can't—I can't be without you, my love. Stay with me, stay—"
You kiss down his neck, biting down onto the soft, delicate skin between his neck and shoulder as you shatter around him, pulses of your release filling your mind with the pleasure of a long sought after climax, a well fought for destination finally reached together.
You cling to Xavier, sucking and mouthing at his skin as it rolls through you, moaning when you feel him follow you over that precipice to fill you with his release at last, to claim you completely.
Your heavy breaths intermingle when you kiss him once more, your hand curled into the back of his long hair, swallowing each breathy moan that you pull out of him in this intimate state. The vulnerability of it has your limbs trembling, your drenched thighs shaking with each lingering wave of pleasure that's pulled out of you.
"Stay with me," Xavier says again, still on that razor thin edge of asking and commanding, and you laugh softly against his lips.
"I should be the one to make such a demand," you counter, breathless and still aching, satiated slightly when you feel another warm spurt of his release coating your walls. "You're the one who leaves."
His lips crash against yours again, as if he can steal the words from you, make them unspoken. Even if you both know it is the truth.
"Then ask it of me," he says, all darkness and light in one, tender and obsessive in how he clings to you and gazes up at you with the eyes of an endless starry night. "Demand it of me. Take my throne, my crown, my life."
Xavier kisses you again, and you melt into him when he whispers against your lips, "It is all for you."
"Stay," you command, rolling your hips forward slowly, a keening noise escaping you when you feel the pleasure stoked again, the urgency coming to life once more between you. "Stay with me, my king."
His hand curls around the base of your neck, keeping you to him like in the flowers when he first kissed you, devouring your every kiss as he promises gently, like all the times before, "Whatever you ask of me, my queen, is yours."
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 warnings. 🔞 mdni. (afab!reader) needy dom!xavier. pwp, p in v, light degredation + praise, breeding, xav begs and is mouthyyy. baby, angel, my love used ‹𝟹
˖ .˚𑣲 xavier is a slut.
so he makes one of you. his desperation has been simmering for years, literal centuries. excuse him if he’s a bit…impassioned.
his insatiability manifests in all his quiet teasing, the sly looks and comments you have to do double takes for, the mental foreplay he does on you knowing he‘ll have your knees by your ears in a few hours. he has to build you up, make you ache, yearn for him as much as he does for you. it distracts from how whorish he can become.
“please, angel,” xavier huffs in your ear. "you feel so amazing. i- haah... i need you. i can't.. c-can't stop."
buried deep, deep inside you, every roll of his hips has you gasping just in time with his heavy breaths. your arms are hooked under his with his full weight on top of you, skin to skin just how he loves. you claw at his shoulders, marking him in a way he'll smile fondly at tomorrow. you’re both sweaty and sticky and too fucked out to care. he is on the moon.
“xaaav! hmmph- oh my god!”
"wanna cum. cum inside… fuuck, i'm gonna- please?" xavier rambles, whimpering out pleads, desperate strings of your name into your hot skin.
“pleease. ngghh— pleaseplease tell me you need it. i wanna keep you full of me. mmf- i’ll give you every drop, my love. all of it, all of me, please.”
begging as if he hasn’t been fucking his cum back into you this entire time is beyond you. he keeps going, just letting all his lewd thoughts escape faster than his brain can catch up. teeth latch onto your neck, that spot he knows turns you dumb, and you find yourself following in his footsteps. your mouth moves before your mind.
“xavier, you’re— aagh shiit! you’re such a slut!”
xavier whines at the name, a sound so dirty and broken you’d struggle to believe it came from him if he wasn’t on top of you. his movement falters, hips stuttering before he comes to a slow stop inside you. your cunt clenches around him earning you another groan before he speaks.
“fuck, i am. i am. you’re right, always right… mmh- i am such a slut,” he nods in the crook of your neck, words shaky, panting like an animal.
he sounds so needy. it makes you squirm, ready to plead for him to keep fucking you — but he rises. chest heaving, face redder than a rose and those deceivingly soft, cloudy blue eyes looking down on you.
his head tilts in usual xavier fashion, giving you that narrowed prideful look he reserves for when you’re testing him. it only mildly betrays the depravity he just showed, the way he still looks so slutty above you.
“do you th-think— aah… d’you think i’m a whore, baby?”
he doesn’t let you answer. wordlessly, nimble fingers find your clit, already so sensitive to the touch. air catches in your throat, a gasp that trails into a sweet moan that he takes to immediately, humming in agreement, like you’re meant to make those noises for him.
“and you’re not mine? listen to you. no more talking now. you’re a mess.”
he’s right, evidently, given your cries that follow. it briefly dawns on you how quick he turned things around on you, but you can’t think about that. not when the drag of his cock feels like that after he starts back up, damn near burying you in the mattress. not when you’re so close already, moans teetering on obscene, taking him so fucking well.
like a slut. like his.
“and i’m yours, your mess. cum with me, angel. please. ffuck, please.”
— authors note. dividers creds @/uzmacchiato ! first blurb back… haiii :3 ik it’s just kinda word vomit but i’m rustyyy gimme like a week! born through my sister calling him a harlot. xavier my woman of the night.
kissing xavier and calling him a pretty boy between every kiss and smiling because he’s soooo red and he’s fighting a smile back because he doesn’t wanna admit how much he loves ur compliments and then u call him ur pretty bunny and he freezes and then ur like “my handsome knight” and something in him snaps and he just flips u over and pins you to the bed and kisses u crazy style until you’re pushing him softly so u can catch your breath and his face is still soooo red but his eyes are dark and he’s staring at you like he’s gonna devour u whole …. glup
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