up for a joyride?

[xaphisto]

MAELITH. she/her. early twenties. sylus’ kitten. xavier’s darling. capricorn. loves winter and tiramisu. crochets occasionally. pink and purple. <3

only got into lads recently, so please be considerate and respectful. will work on a masterlist somewhere soon.

[pearlescenthoney]

#YOURFANTASY is finally live!

check out the terms and conditions and claim your custom-made products. this is a limited time collection.

this is a rafayel exclusive event.

this is a smut exclusive event.

limited offers:

* leave as is or specify! e.g.,

supernatural (vampire, incubus, angel, wizard, etc.);

royal (prince, knight, servant, king, etc.);

scoundrel (pirate, thief, etc.).

sex worker (camgirl/boy, p-star, prostitute, escort, etc.)

terms and conditions:

1. select TWO flavours and ONE topping.

2. divide the flavours between rafayel and reader. e.g.,

yandere! prince! rafayel x reader OR

yandere! rafayel x princess! reader OR

rafayel x yandere! princess! reader.

3. send an ask! one order per ask!

4. there will be 10 slots available. be creative when constructing your custom order!

-> see event masterlist

a/n. thank you for 2k followers! i decided to open my requests for a limited time to show my appreciation. i reserve my right to personally pick the 10 requests. the requests will not exceed 1k words.

©pearlescenthoney 2026. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

[xaphisto]

my wife @pearlescenthoney is holding such a cool 2k followers event at the moment, definitely go and check it out!!! <3333

[pearlescenthoney]

feverish

synopsis. xavier was attacked by a strange wanderer and has been with a serious cold for days. you, his sweet girlfriend, are there to nurse him back to health… you will do anything for him, right?

pairing. boyfriend! xavier shen x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, established relationship!au, kind of sub!xavier, puppyboy!xavier, sick!xavier, needy!xavier, you are his weakness and he is yours, TIT STIMULATION (licking, sucking, etc.), a ton of saliva, jacking off xavi, he cums fast lol, soft and sweet, praise, pet names (baby, xavi, good boy), allusion to more sex.

word count. 1.6k

a/n. this is a small christmas gift for my lovely wifey @xaphisto! she’s celebrating it on the 24th, so that’s why it’s out earlier than expected! i hope you enjoy this, my dear❤️ also yay, first xavier fic! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

you felt your heart clench when you saw xavier lying there, shivering beneath his duvet, his normally vibrant skin ghostly pale and glossy with sweat. untamed blond hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes, those shiny, blue orbs you adore, were hazy with fever.

with a sigh, you set down on the nightstand the bowl of chicken soup you had prepared for your sick boyfriend.

“xavi… hey! i’ve got something yummy for you.” you whispered, brushing your fingertips against his cheek to make him aware of your presence.

even with that short-timed touch on his skin, you could feel how much the cold was affecting him.

he was burning up.

“uh.” he stirred, blinking slowly at you; a soft, miserable sound escaping his lips. “h-hot…”

“i know, baby. here, let’s get this on you.”

you dampened a washcloth in the cool water from the adjacent bowl, wrung it out, and gently dabbed it over his face before folding it neatly and placing it on his forehead. his eyelids flutter closed at the cold material, grunting in pain.

“stay…” he murmured weakly, his voice a raspy whisper. his hand flopped softly on the bedspread, fingers grasping for you.

“i’m right here, i promise.” you reassured him, pulling the chair closer, but his eyes snapped open, a panicked, glassy sheen in them.

“no… here. please?” he slowly patted the spot beside him, the simple motion looking so pitifully exhausted. “j-just wanna feel you.”

the plea in his voice and the gentleness in his puppy gaze shattered your resistance. of course you climbed into the bed, carefully sliding besides his shivering form, under the duvet. he immediately burrowed into you, his face pressing against your neck.

and he inhaled deeply.

his skin was fire against yours, and his breath hit your collarbone in wheezy puffs.

“thank you.” he sighed, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you in. slowly, his head shifted downwards, nose nudging against the soft straps of your camisole, pushing it around. “so soft…”

“i’m glad, xavi.” you ran your fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb the washcloth on his forehead.

and then–

“can… can i–” his voice was even softer, a wavering murmur beneath the fever. his breath hit your sternum now, as his lips brushed against the space between your breasts. “can i just…?”

“can you just what, baby?” you prompted, your own heartbeat speeding up at the view before you — a flushed xavier buried between your boobs, glancing up at you with hope.

hope you will let him indulge.

“i want to…” he placed a small kiss on the peaks of your boobs; the fever-bright adoration in his eyes was absolutely mesmerising. “feel you… closer. please? it hurts… and you smell so good.”

the sexual innuendo was palpable, but the way he said it — so needy, so vulnerable — sent a jolt of pure heat straight to your core. on autopilot, your hands came up to pull down the straps, letting the camisole droop lower on your chest.

the cool air of the room hit your skin, and you shivered, goosebumps blooming all over.

his eyes latched onto the half-naked flesh in an instant.

“just… like that?” you asked, your voice breathier than you intended.

he nodded, a slow, drowsy gesture. “please. need you.”

that was all it took. you let the camisole slip away completely, bunched at your waist, fully exposing yourself to him.

“agh.” his eyes widened, and his lips parted with a shaky sigh. “pretty…” he murmured, the word breathy yet full of wonder.

without sparing another second, he nudged his head forward, and his hot, dry lips sealed over your left nipple.

“oh!” you gasped, your hand flying to his hair, somehow avoiding the washcloth.

it was a shock of sensations — the softness of his tongue contrasting with the sharpness of his lips against your sensitive skin. making your own body heat up to a feverish temperature.

he sucked at your boob gently at first, a tender, curious pull.

“s-still hurts.” he mumbled against your nipple as he scraped the areola with his front teeth, the motion sending pleasure spiraling down your spine. “but you’re so warm. so sweet.”

his tongue came out as a slow, hot swipe across the stiffening peak. he circled it, tasting, exploring, before sealing his mouth back over it and sucking harder. the suction was deeper, more intense, a steady rhythm that had you arching your back and pushing your chest into his face.

the washcloth slid partially off his forehead, but he paid it no mind, devoted to his task.

“that’s it.” you whispered, your fingers tightening in his hair, slightly pulling at his scalp. “just like that.”

he hummed, the sound vibrating heavily against you, making more slick drop in your panties. his teeth nipped again — gently — at the tender flesh; a sharp puncture of pain-pleasure that made you gasp louder. he soothed it immediately with his tongue, apologetic, sealing his own marks with another deep suck.

he switched to your other breast, giving it the same attention, lick, suck, nip, until both of your nipples were swollen, sensitive, and glistening with his saliva.

even in your frenzy, you felt it — a hard, heavy pressure poking against your thigh. peeling your eyes away from xavier’s adorable face, you looked down. the thin pajama pants he was wearing did nothing to hide the pronounced tent poking through the fabric.

his boner leaned heavily against you, the thick length and width as palpable as his fever.

“baby…” you squeezed out, your hand flying down to automatically press against his cock. he moaned, a deep, guttural sound that trembled through his entire body.

“feels so good.” he mumbled between your boobs, his mouth never leaving your skin. “please… don’t stop.”

and who were you to deny him?

your hand slipped in the space between his leg and your thigh, searching for the tent. your fingertips brushed against the damp fabric over his cock soon enough — his hiss was the perfect indicator.

“babyyy…” he whined, pushing up into your touch, his tip sheltering itself in between your fingers.

“oh, i’m here.” you said, your voice seductive yet reassuring, as you pressed your palm down harder against him.

he was so hard, so full, and the scent of his skin — sweat, fever, and that undertone of desire — was driving you wild. you gripped him more firmly, palming the shaft through the pants. he thrusted his hips up by instinct, a delicious, friction-seeking motion.

“oh, god… baby!” he began to babble, his sucking turning sloppier, more desperate. his heart seemed like it was banging against your own ribcage as your hand grasped his clothed cock tighter. almost making him cry. “right there… harder…”

the clothing barrier was torturous. so, your free hand fumbled for the drawstring of his pajamas… slipping your fingertips inside, brushing down against his hipbone.

he went redder beneath you, breath becoming more ragged.

“baby.” you whisper, your lips against his ear. “i’m going to fully nurse you.”

you shimmied the pants down, just enough for his shaft to be free. his boner slammed against his stomach the moment it was out of its confinement, his cock fully exposed, swollen and sopping wet at the tip.

it throbbed in the cool air once, and he began to tremble badly.

perhaps from the fever? or was it need?

“baby… i–i’m so sorry, i can’t…” he whimpered, ashamed of his undeniable arousal.

“shhh, look at me.” you guided his chin up, forcing his puppy eyes to meet yours. “i’ve got you.”

offering him the pleasure he needed.

then you reached down, finally wrapping your hand around his bare cock. it was sealing hot, like his fever had all concentrated there — it might have been that, but it was definitely also his need.

so you stroked him up and down, firm and steady.

he moaned loudly, mouth going slack against your chest, drool slipping down your boobs. as he howled.

“i… i’m gonna…” he couldn’t even finish his words. his hips started to buck, spasms of pleasure rocking his jittery body. his sucking stopped altogether, replaced by heavy, breathless sobs as he abandoned himself to your stroke.

“come on, xavi.” you urged, your whisper broken by his intense pleasure. “let go for me. be a good boy.”

the words good boy seemed to trigger something deep inside him — a high, whimpering sound escaped his lips, and his back arched off the bed into your touch. he came with a silent, trembling convulsion, cum shooting all over your hand in hot, pearly streams.

he gasped, coughing a little, then collapses back into the mattress, exhausted.

but he didn’t seem to care.

for a moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and stuttering gasps. his face was slack, a small, drowsy smile on his lips as he was finally content.

the washcloth had fallen off completely, slumped on the pillow. the soup had gone cold.

“that…” he slurred, his eyes drooping closed. “that was better than medicine.”

you giggled shortly, relieved by his improving condition, and readjusted your camisole. you swiftly cleaned up every bit of cum with the dropped washcloth, then pulled his pants back up.

like nothing happened.

“now i can sleep.” he sighed, his voice a gentle slur.

“i’m glad.” you murmured, tucking yourself back beside him after throwing the cloth in the water bowl.

he immediately snuggled back in, his eyes already closed, a profound peace settling on his features.

and now you knew you need to stay there to nurse him back to health — one steamy moment at a time.

as he drifted off, you couldn’t help but smile, your hand caressing his own as he fell into a deep sleep.

the cold might still be there, but he was finally improving.

©pearlescenthoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

tags: @yuunileb

[xaphisto]

HONEEYYYYYY omg 🥹💕💕💕💕💕

this was so freaking sweet and amazing. thank you so much for thinking of me this Christmas Eve. I'll forever be grateful you decided to invest your time into writing a fic for me🥺❤️

you felt your heart clench when you saw xavier lying there, shivering beneath his duvet, his normally vibrant skin ghostly pale and glossy with sweat. untamed blond hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes, those shiny, blue orbs you adore, were hazy with fever.

my poor poor baby oh my god. I wanna cuddle him so bad and kiss his little cute face ;((

“stay…” he murmured weakly, his voice a raspy whisper. his hand flopped softly on the bedspread, fingers grasping for you.

how could I not if u ask so sweetly my dear baby?

“thank you.” he sighed, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you in. slowly, his head shifted downwards, nose nudging against the soft straps of your camisole, pushing it around. “so soft…”

oh... COME CLOSER MY LOVE IMMA SMOTHER U

“can you just what, baby?” you prompted, your own heartbeat speeding up at the view before you — a flushed xavier buried between your boobs, glancing up at you with hope.

I'll nurse you back to health just fine if u keep looking at me like this 😊😊😊😊

without sparing another second, he nudged his head forward, and his hot, dry lips sealed over your left nipple.

OH HE WAS HUNGRYYYYYY

even in your frenzy, you felt it — a hard, heavy pressure poking against your thigh. peeling your eyes away from xavier’s adorable face, you looked down. the thin pajama pants he was wearing did nothing to hide the pronounced tent poking through the fabric.

poor baby, sick and hard??? :((( whatever could I do to help you...

he was so hard, so full, and the scent of his skin — sweat, fever, and that undertone of desire — was driving you wild. you gripped him more firmly, palming the shaft through the pants. he thrusted his hips up by instinct, a delicious, friction-seeking motion.

ughhhhh honey you KNOWWWWW what I like. goodnesssss, I love pathetic men so much jshdfjfhddfkdsjk--like yes, please thrust up into my hand WHILE FULLY CLOTHED HELLOOOOOOO????

you shimmied the pants down, just enough for his shaft to be free. his boner slammed against his stomach the moment it was out of its confinement, his cock fully exposed, swollen and sopping wet at the tip.

mmmmmm I wanna lick him so baddddddddd

the words good boy seemed to trigger something deep inside him — a high, whimpering sound escaped his lips, and his back arched off the bed into your touch. he came with a silent, trembling convulsion, cum shooting all over your hand in hot, pearly streams.

HE IS THE BESTEST BOY CUMMING ALL OVER MY HAND AAAAA

“now i can sleep.” he sighed, his voice a gentle slur.

100% canon btw LMAOOOOO.

this was everything, honey. I absolutely adored this, and this IS GOING IN THE FOLDER. HELL YEAH. thank you soooooo much! Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating today! 🥹❤️❤️

[xaphisto]

⏾ midnight rendezvous.

𓆝 ⋆. summary: you don’t like celebrating your birthday. Rafayel loves it.

𓆝 ⋆. warnings: mature content. some soft sex, fingering, needy raffy, he cums a lot, praise

𓆝 ⋆. author’s note: okie n now u still get some tinyyyy bit of smut bc I know u love pathetic raffy <333 @pearlescenthoney SMOOCHES for the birthday girl!!!!

Rafayel has always prided himself on his, let’s say, creativity.

The creativity which allowed him to be crowned top artist multiple years in a row, and the same creativity which made him come up with a thousand different reasons as to why you should be celebrating the evening before your birthday at the local five star restaurant with him instead of relaxing on your couch.

And later, long after you managed to convince him otherwise, he insisted on staying that night—with you, cuddled up into his side on the couch as your eyelids slowly fluttered close in front of the flashing tv in your living room.

You told him you’d have work the next day, that you’d need to wake up early and leave the house before he’d even start his first deep sleep cycle. Him being an artist and you being a hunter means having completely opposing time schedules—Rafayel prefers to draw at night, moonlight bleeding onto the oil paint of his canvas from the window, and you—you get tired before movies even start getting good.

It was going to be your birthday the next day, and while you didn’t necessarily like celebrating it, Rafayel was keen on staying by your side.

You’ve always dreamed of moving in together—but apartments in Linkon City are limited, and neither of you is ready to give up their own quite yet.

So, most weekends, you’d go to his place and watch him paint or he’d stay over at yours, playing with your hair while you show him that new series you’ve been obsessing over.

It started the same way today. He showed up at the door of your apartment, unannounced at that, with a rather wide smile on his face as he slid past you, settling a bouquet of your favourite flowers on your kitchen table before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

And around the time he’d normally leave, he insisted on staying for the night.

Swallowed your insincere complaints with kisses, pulled you closer to his side when your eyes grew tired, slowly fluttering closed until you fell asleep with your head resting on his firm chest.

And now, well, you don’t even really know how you ended up in this situation—a mumbled “happy birthday” is the only thing you hear before his lips press on yours for a rushed kiss, hands on the inside of your thighs parting them for him as he slides in between them.

“Rafayel, what— what are you doing?” You ask him, voice thick with sleep, your eyes blinking away the dream he woke you from.

His fingers ghost along the inside of your thigh, bunching your nightgown around your hips.

“Mmm— just stay there, hm? Just stay there and let me make my birthday girl feel good.”

You don’t even get to respond—not really, before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, smoothly tugging them down your legs. They are lace—lavender lace, and you’re wearing a matching bralette too.

It’s a set he got you a while back.

You didn’t think too much about it when you first put it on, but fate has played you nicely today.

He makes you sit up then, quickly discarding the cotton fabric of your sleepwear somewhere on the floor—and the moment he realises you’re wearing that set, his eyes quite literally light up.

They glimmer in the dim light of your bedroom’s lamp, and for a moment, as you look at him, you wonder how you even got here—figuring he must’ve carried you to bed once you’d fallen asleep in front of the tv.

“You’re— you’re wearing the set. It’s— you are gorgeous, cutie.”

Tha— ah— thank you, Raffy,” you murmur, interrupted by his head dipping, lips trailing hot kisses down your neck.

“Mmmh— so beautiful. More than I could ever wish for.” 

And if you weren’t still so sleepy, you might’ve been able to spot the slight change in his expression—the one he wears whenever he comes home from a long work trip, when he hugs you tight and handles you more carefully than his most precious art pieces.

It’s when he trails the tips of his fingers over your curves, mapping every inch of you in his brain—just to be able to paint you from his imagination later.

The look of desire, written all over his face. And his lips—they tell the exact same story.

“You don’t even know how happy you make me— “ he mumbles against your heated skin, fingers digging into your waist as his lips brush over your sternum, down to your tummy. “By just being here—with me.“ 

“I’ll always— always be with you, Raf,” you half breathe, half gasp when his thumb ghosts over your clit, gently pushing inside of you as he soothes the sting with kisses on your inner thigh.

Always. The word repeats in his head. Always with him. Forever.

Rafayel’s second hand works his sweatpants and underwear down his legs, eyes staying locked onto yours.

Forever doesn’t sound too bad as long as it’s with you.

“Such a good girl,” he praises you, withdrawing his thumb when he feels you flutter around him, sucking him in deeper, leaning over you. “Always ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes— yes, but why—“ you stutter, breath catching in your throat at the sensation of his cock dragging through your slick folds—hot and heavy, so hard you wonder how long he’s been waiting for this, how long he’s planned this for.

“Because you’re my birthday girl.” Rafayel murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, the tip of his cock bumping against your swollen clit. “And we will celebrate accordingly.”

“But work—“

“No,” he interrupts, fingers hooking underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards. “Just you and me today. Work can wait, cutie.”

“Don’t— mmph— don’t know if I can—“ you try again, though Rafayel pushing forward a few inches has you stop mid-sentence.

“Shhh. Not now.” he says, and with that, slips deeper—slowly, gradually, until he’s buried all the way inside you.

If you know Rafayel, you know he’s vocal. Moans and whimpers spill from his lips as soon as he feels your delicious warmth wrapped around him so snugly and perfectly, it almost feels like an early birthday present for him, too.

And that definitely has you forget about your previous complaints.

“Feel so good, sweetie, fuck—“ he praises, gentle, slow rolls of his hips against yours nearly making you lose your mind. Curved so perfectly, he is able to reach all the right spots that have your thighs trembling, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure.

Rafayel really tries holding back—he does. But with your sweet face staring up at him when he rests your legs on his shoulder, thrusting even deeper—he cannot help himself.

Incoherent mumbles and praises fall over his kiss swollen lips, shiny curls stuck to his foreheads as he spills himself inside of you not long after. It lasts for a long half minute, and when he’s finally done, leaving you full of him even after he pulled out, he lets his body rest on top of yours—chest heaving, fingers interlocked with yours.

“Thank you, Raffy,” you murmur, placing a kiss on top of his hair. He lifts his head then, eyes meeting yours, raising a brow.

“We aren’t done by far, honey.” he grins, straightening himself, his cock already growing hard again. “You haven’t even come yet, sweetheart.”

Your mouth opens to remind him of work and all the other things you’d need to that very day— “but I—“

“Quiet,” he scolds, thumb back on your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud. “This is your day. Let me make it special. Please.”

“Okay,” you nod hesitantly, pleasure coiling low in your abdomen, thoughts of your responsibilities shoved to the back of your head once more.

“Now, round two for my birthday girl?”

[xaphisto]

𓎩 failed surprise.

𓆝 ⋆. summary: sweet lil Raffy doesn’t know how to work a kitchen machine :((

𓆝 ⋆. author’s note: for my beloved @pearlescenthoney. I love you so so much sweetheart, (more than raffy for SURE) and I hope u enjoy. happy birthday MWAH <333

“Rafayel? Where are you? I am there,“ you call out, closing the front door to his apartment behind you. When he doesn’t answer right away, you decide to look for him yourself—and the further you make it into his living room, the more insistent the stench of something burnt becomes.

“Rafayel?” you say again, more panicked this time, heading towards his kitchen.

“No don’t come in— it’s uhh— nothing!” His voice trembles, and it really does not sound—nor smell—as though it’s nothing.

You know him too well by now. Him alone in the kitchen has never ended up well, and you remember the one time you left him alone for five minutes with simple pasta in the pan—coming back to a burnt, solid block of what once resembled food.

Clutching your hand over your mouth, you stifle a gasp at the state of the kitchen, not paying his words any attention.

There’s flour all over the wooden planks of the floor, spoonfuls of dough sticking to the marble tiles on the wall, kitchen utensils scattered across the table, and a frantic Rafayel trying to hide a bowl behind his back when he sees you enter the room.

“What— what in God’s name are you doing, Rafayel?” you ask, a confused expression carved into your features as your eyes drift around the messy room.

“Nothing! I— what are you doing here anyway and how did you get in?” he counters, a blush creeping to his cheeks when you take two or three steps forwards, thumb brushing over the tip of his nose covered with dough.

“You gave me the keys last time, Raf.” you reply wearily, eyes drifting to the cake decoration on the counter. “Anddddd you promised we’d go to beach. Watch the sun set? Remember?”

Oh, how did he only forget. Of course. He’s told you to come by and you’d both go to the shore to watch the sky turn all pretty colours, celebrate your birthday in a manner you too enjoy.

“I— you’re right, cutie.” he pouts, sighing when he puts the bowl he’s hidden behind his back on the kitchen counter. “I forgot because— because I was trying to bake something.”

“Bake?” you question, raising a brow. Rafayel doesn’t cook and definitely doesn’t bake—

“A cake. For your birthday.”

Oh.

Hence the mess.

You smile softly, suspecting the appliance he used for it short-circuited. “And the kitchen machine gave up on you?”

Rafayel’s eyes softened, shoulder sinking. “Yes. And the dough, it— it splashed everywhere, and it’s also too salty and—“

“Sweetheart— look at me.” you interrupt him, cupping his flushed face in both of your hands before you press a kiss to his lips.

Reluctantly, his watery, multi-coloured eyes meet yours, blinking away the tears about to spill over his waterline. 

“That’s so sweet of you to think about me. It’s all okay, we will fix it together, alright?”

He quickly shakes his head. “No, we should go. Otherwise the sun will set without us and I’ll ruin both of your surprises.”

Gently, you caress along his cheekbone, placing another reassuring kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You aren’t ruining anything. I guess fixing my own surprise birthday cake with my beloved is a nice twist to the evening. Besides, we can always still watch the stars together—they won’t disappear so quickly.”

Rafayel pulls you into a tight embrace, breathing in your scent. 

“Are you sure?” he whispers, voice soft and trembling.

“Yes, Raffy. We will figure it out, okay?”

He sighs, placing a kiss on top of your head. “I love you, honey.”

[xaphisto]

oneshots | ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Ⰶ CREAMY CELEBRATION.

SUMMARY: Caleb’s only task is to put the laundry in the washing machine—but not even that he can do without “losing” a pair of your panties each time…

WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT. stepcest, panty stealing, m!masturbation, getting caught red-handed, brief handjob, brief fingering, unprotected p in v, rough birthday sex, mating press, praise, creampie

AUTHOR’S NOTE: happy belated birthday to my loveliest @yuunileb!! I love you so so so much, and I hope you like this lil Caleb fic. <33

wordcount: 2,6k

“Caleeeeeeb!” you yell from downstairs in frustration, scrambling through the damp clothes of the laundry you have just retrieved from the washing machine.

Caleb and you have always split household chores fairly since your grandmother can not move as much. He does the dishes, you cook. He vacuums the floor, you scrub the windows.

He puts the dirty clothes in the washing machine, you iron them after.

But Caleb is messy, and very often, pieces of your clothes get lost. Sometimes your socks, sometimes your underwear—which would miraculously reappear the next time you do the washing.

You sigh in disappointment as you can’t find your favourite pair of panties. They are your favourite for a reason—you bought them as a set online, a limited collaboration between a very well-known model and Victoria’s Secret.

On top of that, they are thongs, made of a beautiful black lace material. They fit perfectly and hug your curves in a way no other panties do. And were expensive, too.

You are getting ready for a night out, as it’s your birthday—already running late, and now even more frustrated that he has lost another piece of your belongings.

When you called his name again and did not receive an answer, you angrily shoved the laundry aside and stomped up the stairs, brows drawn together in irritation.

How can he possibly be this messy and careless? You have scolded him more than a thousand times for the same issue, and yet he can’t seem to get it right—each time putting on that smug grin of his before saying, “yeah, yeah, pipsqueak. I will pay special attention not to lose your precious underwear next time.”

You’ve almost reached his room when you start hearing strange noises coming from the direction of his room.

This horny motherfucker.

Sometimes you really wonder whether Caleb has matured since his 15th birthday. Dirty socks everywhere, can’t prepare his own lunch, and well—this.

Normally you aren’t too keen on disturbing him during his activities—but you really need to know where he put your panties this time. So, after waiting for a few more minutes, letting the noises from his room subside, you finally push down the metal handle of his door—without knocking beforehand—and enter.

A mistake.

You gasp at the sight right in front of your eyes.

Caleb’s lying in his king-sized bed, legs spread wide over his duvet, his right hand wrapped tightly around his cock—or better, his hand and your dirty Victoria’s Secret thongs.

Your jaw drops, and the both of you are too stunned to speak for a moment—the erratic movements of his hand subsiding the second his eyes meet yours in the doorway.

“Ca— Caleb, what the fuck?” you whisper-yell, quickly shutting the door behind you before you take a few steps closer. “Are these— my panties?!”

And that bastard actually grins at the horrified expression on your face.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, not even bothering to cover himself—not when he sees how your eyes stay fixated on the leaky, swollen head of his cock. “Took ‘em out the laundry.”

“Oh yeah,” you huff, throwing your hands in the air. “That makes it so much better.”

When he doesn’t reply with anything but that cheeky smile of his which he puts on whenever you ramble about something, you continue.

“And haven’t you thought a second of just how— how wrong this is— because— because— what do you think you’re doing? How long have you even—“

“Come sit, pips.” Caleb interrupts you lazily, patting on the mattress next to him. “You need to calm down. S’ just a pair of panties.”

You stare at him in disbelief for another second before you turn to leave. You don’t know what’s gotten into him all of a sudden, and now you don’t have the time to deal with it—you are already running late for your birthday party.

However, you don’t even reach the door before a strong magnetic pull smoothly wraps around your body, lifting you into the air before placing you on the soft mattress just where he wanted you.

Again, you try to get up, but it’s no use. You’re stuck. His evol won’t let you move a single inch.

“Caleb, let me go—“ you yell, trying to wriggle yourself free, until his palm closes around your wrist tightly and you wince in pain.

“I said come sit, pips. You know I don’t like telling you twice.”

You turn your head to face him then, meeting his darkened eyes. “Caleb, we aren’t supposed to—“

He huffs a laugh. “We aren’t supposed to do this? No. And yet you can’t stop staring when I come back from a workout. Cuddle into my side during movie nights. Admit it, you want it too.”

At this point, you want to argue—want to tell him no, he is wrong, it’s not true. It’s just what happens when you live together with your stepbrother as adults. But deep down, you know he is right. Over the years, your relationship has grown into something more than it should have ever been. Whether it be stares, lingering touches, whispers when grandma wasn’t looking—silently, you’ve both craved each other for years. Yet, nobody has dared to make a move—until now.

“And the way you are staring at my cock right now only confirms it, baby.”

He interrupts your train of thoughts with yet another bold statement, and you realise that you are, in fact, staring at his dick. It’s beautiful—longer and girthier than the ones you’ve seen, thick veins popping from beneath his skin, stretching all the way to the leaking head.

You blink and swallow hard before your gaze returns to his. “I— I don’t know, Caleb.”

“Shhh. Turn off that pretty brain of yours for a bit, hm? Just follow your instincts. It feels right, doesn’t it? You and me, I mean.” He drawls, his hand easing from your wrist to cup your face, thumb caressing your cheek as he tilts your head towards his.

“Y— yes,” you whisper, still sounding somewhat unconvinced—but Caleb just takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss on the back as he hums in approval.

“Nobody has to know. It’ll stay between us, don’t worry, pips.” He reassures, gently placing your hand over his cock—and your fingers wrap around him before what’s left of your sanity can stop you. “Just one time and done—if you don’t like it, we won’t do it again.”

You nod quickly, already entranced by the sight of him—fingers tightening their grip around his length, giving him a few experimental, slow and gentle strokes.

Caleb’s lips part at the sensation of a hand other than his—your hand—touching his cock. He’s had a few hookups here and there, yes, just to blow off some steam, but this—God, he has to fight his eyes to stay open just so he doesn’t miss a single second of it.

Your pretty hands making him feel so good, just like he’s always imagined late at night and alone, cumming in yet another pair of your panties he took from the laundry. 

“Just like that— fuck, good girl,” he rasps, one hand tightly fisting at his wrinkled bedsheets while the other clings onto your panties. It’s almost pathetic how fast he feels his orgasm approaching—trying his best to hold back as long as he can, savouring every single second of the sight in front of him.

Your eyes, shining as your thumb swipes over his tip, using his precum as lube. How sweet and innocent your manicured hands look as they stroke him up and down. Your makeup, half done, of which only traces will be left after he’s done with you tonight.

And just how dumb you are to think he’d ever let you go after this. 

Caleb jerks your hand away just before he’s about to cum, his tip drooling with need and already making a mess all over your hands and himself.

“What— what’s wrong?” You ask, but before you even know it, he’s manhandling you onto your back, mini skirt bunched around your waist as he wrenches your thighs apart—leaving your lower body nearly bare to his gaze.

“Need— need to touch you,” he groans, and soon enough what few clothes you were wearing in the first place are tossed to the floor, save for your panties.

He stops you when your fingers hook into the waistband, about to pull them down your legs.

“Keep ‘em on f’ a bit, yeah?” Caleb breathes, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck, his cock resting hot and heavy against the inside of your thigh, pulsing when his mouth latches onto your tits.

You’re confused how he wants to go about it with your underwear on until he draws back slightly, admiring the wet patch that has formed on the fabric. You gasp, jerking away slightly when his index finger swipes over the outline of your puffy folds—but he’s quick to have you flush against him once more.

“Stay still, yeah?” Caleb instructs, leaning over you—eyes full of admiration as he presses his lips to yours for the first time ever. It’s slow, sweet, but also laced with something deeper—hunger. 

The next second he pumps his cock, dragging the blunt head over your still-covered pussy, soaking the fabric with his and your own arousal. He bumps into your swollen clit occasionally, having you moan and dig your nails deep into his muscular back—but he’s way too far gone to even care.

“So good— feel so good, pips.” He’s groaning lowly as he nips at your neck, fully caging you beneath his broad body as he pathetically buries himself between your clothed folds, slick sounds that come from your bodies echoing around the thin walls of his bedroom.

“Caleeeeb, please!” you whine, bucking your hips against his. “No more teasing, just fuck me!”

He halts his movement in an instant, head snapping up to meet your gaze. His eyes visibly widen at your words, and it takes him a few seconds to find his voice. “What did you— say that again, baby. Wanna hear you say it again.”

The corner of your lips lifts into a knowing smirk, and you press a kiss to his cheek. “Please fuck me, Caleb. Need to feel you inside me.”

 Something inside him snaps when he hears those filthy words come out of what he always believed to be your innocent mouth. “Fuck, pips.”

Your panties slip from your body with a sharp rip as he practically tears the fabric from your cunt, throwing them on the pile of clothes before turning back to you.

“You’ll let me fuck this sweet little pussy of yours, yeah? You want that?” Caleb croons, two of his fingers entering your slick heat at once, curling just right to find your sweet spot that has your thighs close around his hand before he roughly spreads them open again.

“Yes. Please give it to me, Cal.”

“Then you’ll have it,” he growls, slapping his swollen cock onto your glistening folds before finally, finally teasing at your entrance, slowly pushing inside your warm walls, nearly splitting you apart on his thick length. You gasp at the sting, but he’s quick to shush you with another kiss.

“Taking me so well, pips. Just breathe through it, yeah?” He purrs, barely stopping himself from grinning at just how cute and flustered you look with barely half of him inside of you. “Just a little bit more.”

Lie.

Another three inches later, and you have stopped believing in the existence of a higher power able to save you from whatever this is.

“Can’t, Caleb— no more— can’t take it,” you whimper, pain etched into your features, but he merely offers a chuckle void of emotion.

“Yes, you can, pips. And you will.”

When he’s finally buried to the hilt and you are gasping for breath between kisses and the sting, he lets you adjust for another minute or two before he withdraws gently and slowly pushes forward again.

Good God.

He keeps his rhythm gentle and sweet, slow rolls of his hips against your own as he watches you struggle beneath him, eyes watery and forehead damp with sweat. “Shhh. Doing so well for me. Relax.”

His sweet little angel, trying so hard to take him just right—and looking more than stunning during it.

“Caleb— s’ good now. Move, please.” You say in a soft voice—and who is he to deny the birthday girl her biggest wish? Slow and gentle thrusts slowly but surely turn rough and merciless, the slick squelches of his cock pounding into your soaked cunt mixing with your combined moans.

He’s no longer nice with it, instead he takes what he’s been craving all these years. You. Your pussy. Your face, features twisted with something between pleasure and lust. All the things you’ve kept from him all these years.

Caleb rests your legs on his shoulder, nearly folding you in half as he leans over you, big and strong hands buried in the mattress beside your head. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Make you nice and full of me on your special day.” 

You merely nod, brain foggy with the mess he’s made of you. This new angle allows him to reach even deeper—if possible—and each perfectly measured thrust has the bulbous head of his cock bump right against your sensitive cervix, stars dancing in front of your eyes at the sensation.

“Careful, pl—please” you hiccup, half sob, half moan, but it only spurs him on more.

“Just need this right now, alright? Be nice and still for me,” he hisses between thrusts, skin slapping against skin in rapid speed as he chases his own pleasure inside your warm pussy. “M’ sorry, pips. Just feels too good—”

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, cock twitching inside your gummy walls—and then he shifts his angle slightly, almost as if he knows exactly where your most sensitive spots are, looking down at you as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and make a mess over your stepbrother’s cock.”

And you wish his words didn’t have any effect on you. Forbidden. Wrong. Shameful.

But so fucking hot, too.

Caleb grabs the panties he’s stolen from you, shoving them past your lips before you can object—the taste of arousal and a sticky, salty mixture filling your senses.

“Caleb— fuck, please!” You cry out, muffled by the fabric in your mouth, and his thumb finds your puffy clit at once, drawing quick circles on the swollen bud—and you tip over the edge just a split second later. 

Your entire body shivers with it, mind numb with pleasure as the only thing you can focus on is how eagerly your walls clench around his invading length, rough thrusts growing near-feral before he explodes inside of you with a low grunt somewhere from the back of his throat.

Spurt after spurt paints your walls white with his release, making a mess of your combined arousal when he slowly pulls out, dazedly meeting your eyes.

“Fuck, baby. That was—you were—wow.” He breathes, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead as he settles on the mattress, appraising the sticky mess between your thighs—watching his cum slowly seep out of your weeping hole.

You only nod, legs trembling with the after-effects of your orgasm, mind still too hazy to even process what just happened.

No worries, though. Caleb’s mind is still very clear and very aware.

A broken whimper slips past your lips when two of his fingers swipe through your slit, and he pushes his sticky, fertile release back inside your sore cunt. 

“Happy birthday, pips.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are so appreciated! <33

[xaphisto]

oneshots |  xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⊹ ࣪˖ ♕ ALL MINE.

SUMMARY: everyone knows you are his. Still, you love testing his limits.

WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT. oral f!receiving, fingering, slight brat taming, overstimulation, squirting, Xavier loves making a mess out of you on his throne.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: first fic on here! in honour of his third myth, I am dedicating it to king!xavier :33

wordcount: 1,3k

“He looked at you. Touched you. Had the nerve to ask for a dance.”

You could only whimper in response. 

Xavier had you seated on his throne, legs on either of his shoulders as he knelt before you, his head buried between your thighs for what must have been close to two hours now.

You had already lost count of how many times he’d made you come.

Your thighs were a sticky mess, clit raw and swollen and so sensitive. Though, even with your fingers curled into his long, silver hair, trying to pry him away with the last bit of strength left in your arms—he didn’t show any intent to stop any time soon.

The protest caught in your throat when his tongue found your clit again, two of his long fingers buried deep inside your slick cunt—dragging along your sore walls at a torturous pace, curling just right—exactly the way he knew would drive you crazy.

It was a punishment. A punishment you both knew you deserved. You’d been testing him the entire evening—the night of the annual ball, so popular, even royalty from distant nations never failed to attend.

Princes looking for a match. For a wife.

Everyone around you, hell, probably the whole country knew you were his. He had made that clear on multiple occasions.

But people from far away weren’t quite as aware.

One man had been following your figure the entire evening. The way your sapphire blue dress, made out of the finest silk, hugged your curves in all the right places. The silver necklace with expensive gemstones adorning your exposed cleavage.

How elegantly you carried yourself, how beautiful you looked when your lips curled into a gentle smile.

And you noticed—of course you did.

You were Xavier’s, you were aware of it.

But riling him up had always been fun.

So, when the man, dressed in all black with glowing, decorative green stitches on his suit, approached you, asking for a dance—Xavier was by your side in the blink of an eye.

His hand possessively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his side, politely asking whether there was any trouble.

Recognizing the silver-haired man, the stranger backed away immediately, excusing himself with an apologetic smile on his face before he disappeared into the crowd.

Xavier didn’t leave your side after that.

And now—well.

After the last guests left, you could quite literally feel the tension shift between you two. He had composed himself until now. But when he turned to face you, his usually soft, ocean-blue eyes a deeper, darker colour, jaw clenched tight—you knew you were in trouble.

“Stealing my girl. At my ball.” He mumbled against your cunt, pushing a third finger inside of you—and before you could even muster up an excuse, saying sorry for what must have been the one hundredth time this night, he wrapped his lips around your clit, suckling roughly.

That did it.

With a broken moan, the waves of your climax washed over you once more, eyes rolling to the back of your head, your thighs trembling and closing around his head. 

Xavier’s hands wrenched them apart without much resistance from your side.

You were drained, tired eyes begging for relief. A break. Anything.

But the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t done.

“Xav, please— I can’t,” you whimpered, voice soft, laced with utter exhaustion. You tried to back up into his throne, the red, velvety cushion beneath you shimmering with sweat and your arousal—but his grip was iron, and you didn’t even move a single millimetre before he pulled you towards him again.

His mouth left your cunt for just a split second, leaking cock twitching against his silken trousers in neglect as his blue eyes drank you in. You were beyond gorgeous like this. Sitting so helplessly on his designated royal seat, forehead damp with sweat, tired eyes pleading with him.

Xavier’s lips curled into a soft smile, glistening with your slick just like his chin. “One more for me, sweetheart. One more.”

Then, his head dipped once again, tongue circling your clit, fingers slowly massaging along your welcoming walls. 

And you were too drained to even find your voice to protest.

So, the game began anew. Pressure coiling tight in your lower abdomen, his fingers working their magic deep inside of you while his lips nibbled at your swollen clit. Tongue occasionally licking up your slit, groaning against your cunt at the familiar sweet taste of you.

Sometimes you wished to curse him for how good he was at this.

Your fingers tugged at his locks as he muttered soft praises, alternating between licking and suckling. The room was dim, first sunrays creeping in from outside, catching in his silver hair.

Only then did you realise what it must look like if someone happened to barge in.

The reigning king, kneeling for the woman he desired. On his knees before his throne, head buried deep between your thighs, the wet sounds of his tongue and lips against your soaked cunt echoing around the vast space.

Hell, it was an obscene picture.

“Come on, pretty girl. Do it. Come for me,” he encouraged as one of his hands travelled up your front, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple beneath your dress.

But something else, something more insistent, started building in your lower abdomen. A heat, a pressure you didn’t quite recognize. It was as though a weight pressing down on you, first gently, though increasing rapidly.

Your lips parted for a gasp when his fingertips found a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, hands fisting tighter in his hair. As if on cue, his eyes looked up at you, and a hot, satisfied breath met your slick folds.

He did it again. And again. Until the heat inside of you threatened to escape all at once. You were dizzy with pleasure, mind hazy as your orgasm approached like a predator its prey.

It felt different. Unlike anything you had felt before.

Xavier knew.

He curled his fingers upwards, massaging the spongy spot he had found, tongue darting out to swirl around your clit before he spat on it, closing his lips around the puffy bud.

He looked up at you then. Your favourite eyes, as blue as the ocean, as deep and wise as the night sky, locking onto yours.

The next moment, you tumbled over the edge, though it felt closer to being violently shoved over it. The powerful waves almost drowned you in pleasure, and for a moment the room around you seemed to dissolve, old portraits of monarchs, tall ceilings, and golden artefacts fading into a blur.

The only thing you could feel was his fingers and mouth, expertly working you through every tremor. He didn’t let up until you slumped back against the chair as you slowly regained whatever piece of consciousness you had left.

You heard him hum in satisfaction, slowly pulling back. “I wasn’t aware you could do that,” he said in awe, keeping your thighs spread.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Look at you. At me. At my throne.”

You blinked a few times, a horrified expression spreading on your face.

His hand-tailored suit was drenched, his chin and neck glistening, and your thighs a mess.

And the throne.

God, the cushion beneath you was soaked, dripping steadily onto the ancient marble tiles Xavier was kneeling on.

Your eyes widened, and you straightened yourself to get up, but his hand pushed you back down. “I— I am so sorry, Xav. I didn’t—”

He quickly stood, silencing you with a gentle kiss.

“Don’t you ever apologize for something like that.” He murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. 

“It was—perfect.” He reassured. “You are perfect.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are so appreciated! <33