#king xavier

Muttering the last part, your hand looked at his collarbone to see if anything was unusual about him and after seeing nothing…you continued with your routine, “Your schedule is full today, a breakfast is being served until 6:30 and you have a meetings at 7:15 and a royal conference at 8:30–“

“Cancel everything.” he replied in his monotone voice, yet you can hear the difference from yesterday. You hesitantly answered back, “…Cancel breakfast?”

You placed the back of your hand on his forehead before flinching and the heat, removing your hand immediately.

Something wasn’t right.

His cheeks were flushed with a red hue. His forehead radiating enough heat to cook an egg..and his refusal to wake up even when he was 30 minutes late for his usual routine…

The King was sick.

A gasp echoed in the room before Xavier turned his head, his eyebrow furrowed and his pout bratty, “…you’re making too much noise, make another sound and i’ll have you fired.”

Empty threats, you thought, he’s threatened to fire me over 10 times this month already. Flattening the backside of your robes, you sat down on the edge of the Caesar bed, your hand going to his long, soft hair. Grabbing a hairbrush, that was on the bedside table, you began to brush out the messy, matted locks.

“Oh my king…you’re ever so sick! Should I get you some medicine my little baby?”

“Don’t patronize me.” Xavier glared at you over his shoulder, “and you’re too loud.”

“OH. He’s ever so bratty…who knew the king could act like a child—“

Seeing his eye glow and his lightblade slightly appear on his hand was enough to make you shut your mouth, “Oo—Apologies.”

“..Don’t—“ he sniffed before coughing, “—make fun of your king..” for someone who killed over 30 enemy soldiers only 12 hours ago, he was so cute and submissive when he was sick.

The hairbrush ran easily through his hair, barely any knots coming through. Placing the hairbrush back on the dresser, you heard Xavier move, turning to placing his head on your lap. He felt so hot and was acting like a baby, you felt slightly guilty. With a sigh, you took off your gloves before using your bare hands to run your fingers through his hair, giving his head a massage. “What can I do for you? Should I get Duke Jeremiah to prescribe you something?“

He whined, hands going around your waist, “No, I’ll just—get through the day with this stupid flu…i don’t have much to do anyway.”

“…Are you sure Your Majesty? It might be worse than just a flu—“

Xavier sat up, his naked torso uncovered, shaking you his well toned body, the slightly darker scars that littered his body from endless battles, his muscular back which would look great with your nail marks.

His eyes cold, that icy blue which always made you shiver when he glared at someone or even you.

And that voice of his? So serious and stern, a voice that commands an army in less than a second. A voice that can make you feel so much better when you’ve had a bad day—

“Ah!“ You yelped, his hand holding your chin with a firm but not painful grip.

His eyes were sharp, a blue that only sent shivers down your spine, “Are you also sick? I’ve called your name over 5 times already. Or are you ignoring your King?” His glare deepened slightly, not with anger but with a playful intention.

With a shocked expression, your heads shook no, “N-no! I would never, I was just thinking about something.”

His eyebrow rose before he smirked, his hands leaving your chin and removing the duvet. Yet his body seemed too pale in the corner of your eye..

His nicely shaped abs and v-line and his—

With a gasp, your hands went to your face, “Your Majesty! I’m still here!

A chuckle escaped the man beside you, watching as your body turned around. I forgot he sleeps naked all the time!

Xavier spoke with a more playful tone, “I know you are. Why are you so shy? You’ve seen my naked body multiple times.”

“Y-yeah but not out in the open! And you never had your—“ It embarrassed you to even say, a whine filling his ears, how adorable, “…thing out as well!” Xavier didn’t even know how to react, his cute maid getting shy over seeing his body? What else could he ask for.

“You know,” he sat up before placing his head on your shoulder, whispering in your ear, “for someone who chooses my clothes, prepares my food, cleans my body in the bath, you’re really shy. You’ve touched my body before, why not examine the body you’re touching properly?”

Your eyes sprung open before you turned around, staring at him, “Huh?! Are you sure this isn’t some…weird Evol that hit you? Why are you so playful this morning?” It would make sense, he came back yesterday from a mission in a highly Evol-reactive space, but he’s smarter than that, and stronger.

It could only be two things: Wanderers or Evols.

Xavier has been fighting in battle since the day his father allowed him too, after mastering swordsmanship since he was young. He could adapt to any sword, fighting with elegance and got multiple medals and awards from his battling techniques.

He’s fought over 70,000 Wanderers since he was a teen..so they definitely aren’t a problem..then what was it—

“You know Heartbreaker?”

Oh no.

“…Heartbreaker? Yes I do, why..?”

“I found out yesterday that not only can it break a love bond…it can intensify one whenever it pleases, and that can lead rather extreme hatred or…extreme lust.”

Silence filled the room, both of you staring at each other like the palace was being robbed.

“…As you can tell, I don’t hate you so, if you’re okay with it. I have a suggestion to get rid of this…horrible feeling.

“And that is?” You tried your head before his hand went around your throat, gently holding you still before whispering.

“I bend you over my bed, fuck you raw until your cute little pussy can’t take it any longer.” He smirked, your face flushed and your eyes widened.

Even though you definitely don’t mind, it was shocking to hear from the usually stern and merciless king. Your head turned to see his teasing face, “Your Majesty?!—“

His hands pulled you closer, his lips nearing against yours, “So…deal?”

It’s only one time…

“Deal.”

“Ah!”

“Fuck—you take me so well, my queen.”

Your face was stuffed in a pillow, hands digging into the soft mattress that was currently withstanding the force of Xavier fucking you like a filthy animal. His left hand holding onto your hips, his cock digging deep into your pussy.

The right hand was on the headboard, using it to dig deeper. Moans filled the air, your voice filthy to your own ears. Your body was barely taking it.

He’s been fucking you got hours now, your pussy sensitive to the touch.

His long length was slamming into you, just touching your cervix with wet slaps, The girth stretching your pussy out. With every thrust, your body would holy forward, making you hold onto the mattress tighter and cry into the pillow.

“P-pleaseee! Your Majesty! Your Majesty—oh gosh!” a pornographic moan left your moan, high pitched. Xavier’s hands grabbed your hair, making it into a ponytail before pulling your head up.

“Yes? You glad to be— hah fuck! — taken by your Majesty?” He groaned, pressing his chest to your back, your ass pressing right onto his crotch, “Lemme see what’s going on there.”

His hands left your body. Spreading your ass cheeks and staring my down at where his dick was plunging into your cunt. He spat on the mid section then quickly pumping it into your hole.

A squeeze, a grope. Everything that he could do he was doing, spanking, slapping, squeezing, kissing—you name it. He was obsessed.

“I knew you were my love since I saw your pretty f-face! Seeing your hips in that stupid maid dress…”

Rip!! The sounds of your top being torn filled your ears over the moans and sound. of skin slapping.

“..your fat ass bouncing with your every step…”

His hand squeezed the curve of your plump rear, lowering his head to kiss each cheek. His dick slow lying down for only a moment, then thrusting back into you.

“…your cleavage always showing, or was that just for me?”

“..Just f-for you king! Oh j-just for you!! your body arched more for him, a soft but commanding laugh leaving the man behind you.

His hand went down, wrapping around our neck and lifting you up, his head on your shoulder, his hips slamming into the fast of your ass, his dick making your walls clench around him, the precum and slick escaping your hole already. His thickness still stretching you out whilst fucking you, his balls heavy with cum slapping again your clit, giving you more pleasure with every shift.

Your moans increases in the room, high pitched wails and pleads begging him to cum inside and not waste a drop. And did Xavier love it, his hips slowing. But they reached deeper, your legs trembling with every thrust, “Oh please—I wanna be filled with your cum! your majesty, i’ll—hah!— i’ll do anything for your cum!!”

“Oh yeah? Anything? You’ll take my cum like a good slut, aren’t you? This pussy’s never been stretched out like this before as it? Not the common whore, I thought you were.”

Despite being over so much stimulated, your brain made a cocky reply, “M-me? Common w-whore? Are you sure that you’re not—talking about yourself your majesty?”

His head tilted, blue eyes glaring into yours, his hand loosening down your neck, “Someone’s gotten bold.”

“Ah!”

Xavier held your hips with a tight grip, bruises forming slowly as he took a deep breath.

His body slamming into you from behind, his right hand going down to rub circles on your puffy clit, your moans encouraging him to run faster every few seconds. Xavier’s grunts barely reached your ears—jeez you sounded like a pornstar…

“Who are you fucking talking to? Is that how you talk to your king? Your ruler? Your owner? Tch, I think you’re in need of a very valuable lesson, missy.”

Slap!

The sting quickly went from pain to pleasure, your hands grabbing whatever you could, “Ah!—wait xav—mhm…”

Xavier smirked, his hand going to your waist to feel the bulge appear whenever he thrusted in, “Who do you belong to?”

Slap!

His hand landed hard on your folds, his dick thrusting at a rhythmic pace, his balls hitting your clit just right.

“You, my king! Only y-you—only you!!” a hand went to the mattress, holding onto his expensive sheets, nearly ripping them from your nails.

Slap! Slap!

“Mm..fuck! Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You!!”

Slap!

“Say my name properly, slut.”

Tears flooded from your tears, your tummy twisting with the urge to release, it was right there! Right there!!

Your head turned back, “…k-king xavier…”

Just hearing you coo his title made him proud, his lips lowered to give you a kiss, passionate. His lips gentle, his tongue barely fighting against yourself. His hand went to your back, running it down your soft skin to rest your fucked put brain, his body pressing into yours.

Moaning into the kiss, you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you to Xavier. His lips returned for a little peck, “My good girl…my Queen.”

A gentle finger rubbed your face to get rid of the mascara running down your cheek, your curls tangled up from his rough holding, your body littered in multiple hickies and handprints, your hips have no slightly brown marks from where his fingers were.

That knot in your stomach formed quickly, your moans loud when he pressed a hand on the bulge that appeared on your stomach, “…nnngh…mmmh! please—“

You tried to hold it back, clenching your pussy around his cock, but xavier was observant, he knew you were about to come, “Cmon, you know what to say if you want to cum. We’ve—hah!—done this multiple times already tonight.”

“…please can i cum king xavier? please—i’ll be a good girl! i am a good girl, i cant—i can’t hold it anymore!” You cooed, pressing your head into the pillow, your hand went back to hold his. he gladly accepted, pressing your hand into the mattress.

Xavier lowered his gaze to your body which was twitching, your hand ripping at his sheets, “Can you wait for your King? Or is it too much?”

Mumbling into the pillow, Xavier heard you whimper, “…it’s too much…”

Xavier laughed, hearing your now obedient voice take over, moving his hands to hold your hips tightly, “I’ll make you cum then,”

Once the laces come undone you aid him in slipping the heavy garment off your shoulders allowing it to pool at your feet. He takes your hand and guides you backwards until your legs buckle against his bed. Bending down on one knee, he folds your linen petticoat over your lap to slip your shoes off your feet. He touches you like you’re something precious and delicate, as if you would break like fragile porcelain should he treat you too roughly. You both know you are more resilient than that, but in this moment, when your nerves threaten to drown you slowly, his tender affection is warmly welcomed. 

Feeling very exposed, you quickly tuck your legs up and wrap your arms protectively around them. Resting your chin on your knees, you watch intently with wide eyes taking in every detail of the man in front of you as he too begins to shed his many layers. 

Then he is left in only linen undergarments revealing most of his body to you, except for that part of a man which has always been a secret. A part you can only vaguely see the shape of through the remaining fabric that still keeps it mostly hidden. The married women spoke of the pain this foreign body part could produce, how the size of the man was an important factor. But you had no way of comparing Xavier’s bulge to any other as he was your only reference.  

The mattress dips next to you and he tenderly caresses your naked calf. One would not need to know you well to see that you were scared. Xavier knew you well enough to see that you were not only scared, but perhaps even frightened. In this moment it was like he could read your mind. He knew he was large, larger than most others. Now that he was seated, he did his best to conceal his erection with the hand that was not trying to comfort you.

“We can just sleep if that is what you would prefer?”

“No.” You reply too quickly, catching you both by surprise. 

You were unsure if there was any hint of arousal left in you anymore or if it had all been replaced by this aching nervousness and fear of the unknown territory you were about to enter. An unintentional glance down to his lap sent a new wave of something through your stomach as the thin material did little to conceal what was hidden underneath. Shifting your gaze away from the most perplexing part of the male body, you take in his naked torso. Firm, angular and utterly breathtaking. 

Regardless of the strange concoction of unnamed feelings and sensations brewing inside you, there was a need and a want to finally be close to him. Was it love? The child in you who wished for a fairytale would say that this was far from it, but the adult you grew to become had begun questioning what you once assumed was the only way love would present itself.

To convince him you were ready to proceed you shuffled your way back toward the plush pillows at the head of his bed. He took a deep breath before he got on his knees and moved closer. 

Blue eyes were locked on yours as he spread your legs enough to position himself between them. Constantly checking for any doubts or obvious discomfort, whilst also giving himself some time to adjust to the new level of intimacy he never imagined he would want to share with anyone. 

“Can I take this off?” He whispered as his shaky hands lingered around the hem of your shift that had gathered around your upper thighs.

You nodded in silent agreement as you braced yourself for this new level of exposure. Yet his hands did not move. Sensing his uncertainty you quickly wrap your hands around his as they cling to the last barrier between him and your naked body. 

“Xavier?”

“I apologize for my hesitation. I want to make this a pleasant experience for you, but I find myself hindered by nerves.”

Comforted by the fact that he was not reconsidering, you move your joined hands along your sides – revealing yourself to his captivated gaze, inch by inch. His breath hitched, and his muscles tensed at the sight of your bare breasts. Feeling vulnerable, you reach for his nape, lowering his body to meet yours. Hopefully your participation can reassure him and also shield you from his curious gaze. He let himself sink into your embrace as his hands made their way beneath your body to pull you in for a desperate kiss.

Lips that were once timid and hesitant now burned with a fiery passion most people would likely never understand. A connection that was not yet clear to the two of you either and that would require more time than what little you had been given thus far. 

Xavier shuddered at the sensation of your body pressed so tightly against his. The warmth of your skin felt like returning to something he didn’t know he ever lost but he was certain he could never live without again. Your leg instinctively wrapped around him closing whatever distance remained between your aching core and the hardness between his legs. Constricted sounds of pleasure erupted from somewhere deep inside him causing his roaming hands to hungrily grab at your skin.

You lose yourselves to this newly discovered intimacy with increasingly flushed complexions and clumsy grinding movements. What remained of flimsy clothing that protected your modesty disappeared, leaving just you and him, enthralled by unfamiliar passion and aching desire. 

His throbbing cock finds its way between your folds as if pulled by a magnet and nudges against the most sensitive part of you. The sudden shock of arousal inciting loud shaky moans from both of you breaking the spell you were under.

As your stuttering breaths mingle you take a moment to bask in each other's gazes and just feel.

“I think it might be beneficial to the process for me to t-touch you. It should help prepare your body to take me.” Xavier shyly stumbles over the words as his eyes briefly flicker away from yours.

You had forgotten that particularly integral part; he was supposed to fit inside you. Somehow you managed to get this far without laying your eyes on it. A quick glance down at your tightly knit bodies still kept the size of him a secret, but you could feel him, warm and slick resting against your lower abdomen. 

“Touch me?” You whisper whilst you secretly curse every married woman you have ever interacted with for not preparing you better for this moment.

He nods softly and takes your hand in his, guiding it down to the spot between your thighs that yearns for him the most. Your eyes subtly widen as your joined hands create enough space between you for your eyes to finally see all of him. 

“Have you touched yourself like this before?” Your silence mixed with a look of uncertainty gives him your answer. “Will you tell me to stop if my touch is not to your liking?” He asks, moving his body to hover directly above yours.

You gulp but nod again. There is a mutual trust surrounding you both and with each considerate touch and question he offers you, you feel your curiosity stepping forward eager to explore alongside him, your husband.

The gentle touch of the tips of his fingers adds more fuel to the fire he already ignited within you. Your hips buck against his hand giving him the confidence to continue his movements with the addition of lazy kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

Xavier soon realizes that the biggest hurdle he must overcome might not be getting your body ready, but keeping his own under control. Your sweet whimpers, each needy roll of your hips, your hands growing bolder as they slowly glide down his back… He was losing it. Cock twitching uncomfortably against his wrist, threatening to disrupt the rhythm of his fingers. That could not happen, not when you seemed to enjoy his current pace and pressure so greatly. 

“Xavier… Xavi –” His name seemed stuck somewhere between shallow breaths and tense muscles and you were not entirely certain of what message you were trying to convey. “Xavier, I do no – ah!”

Were you already heading toward your climax? Surely not… He had not even had time to put his fingers inside you! Shit, he was struggling. Your touch, your voice, your face adorned with a look of pure pleasure glazed in a thin layer of sweat. If you did not come soon, he would.

Suddenly your hand wraps around his wrist pulling his fingers away from your most intimate area causing him to lose his balance. He barely catches himself before your heads smack against each other, instead landing face first in the pillow. Then he hears it; you are laughing. He does not know why, but the warmth of it invites him to join you.

“I am sorry, Xavier. I swear I am not laughing at you.” 

“What? Does my lack of balance not amuse you? And here I thought you pulled at my arm because you had a craving for mocking my inexperience.” He leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours before placing a gentle kiss to the tip of it. Once the giggles have mostly settled he dares to ask. “Well then, why did you stop me?”

“There was this… Feeling… It was growing in intensity, and I feared I might explode. I did not dare let it evolve further.” You pause for a much-needed deep breath. “Was I about to have an… orgasm?”

“I understand your worry. It is not an easy feat to simply let go and give in when it feels like your body is acting without consulting with your mind first.” A feeling that both of you are far too familiar with and frequently battle against. “I hope it might bring you some comfort to know that you are safe with me.”

He pauses for a moment, thinking back to that faithful day where your vows were exchanged; a day neither of you had wanted to partake in. Here he was, a few weeks later with his wife who now trusted him enough to share this moment with him. “I will never be able to change our wedding day, no matter how hard I wish I was able to go back and give you the day you deserved. I know you searched for comfort and that you could not find it in me. I hope that if we would have gotten married tomorrow instead I would have been able to provide you with that comfort. And I hope that you might at least be able to find it in me now.”

You smiled at his declaration, although his words made you wonder if your presence could ever offer him what he now offers you. Ever since your first proper conversation he had made it very clear that he did not need anything or anyone. Any emotion that required him to show his caring nature was hidden behind the cold facade of a lonely King. He had reluctantly allowed you to see more, but would he ever be ready to rely on you for anything?

“Xavier, do you feel safe with me? Would you dare to ‘simply let go’ if I am there with you?”

He observes your face attentively, seemingly in deep thought. But he already knows his answer, part of him has known for quite some time already and it makes him wonder if now in fact might be the time for him to let go and be bold, like his Queen.

He silently leans down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss filled with trust and promises. His warm breath cradles the whispered words against your ear before descending down the side of your neck along with his lips dragging across your soft skin. “Yes, my love. I feel safe with you.” 

My love…

“Do you think you are ready?” Soft pressure from his lips trail down your collarbone and renders you speechless. The tingling sensation of a light touch along your inner thigh encourages you to allow your legs to part, leaving you open to him in your entirety.

“Tell me if it hurts.” He says with a caring sternness. 

Bracing yourself for the impending pain you had been warned about, you wrap one hand firmly around his bicep and shut your eyes so hard you swear you can see stars. 

Xavier leans down to scatter gentle pecks all over your scrunched-up face. He whispers ‘relax, just relax’ over and over and you are unsure of if he is talking to you or to himself. 

After fumbling around for the correct location, he finally positions himself just right and slowly presses into you. A burning sting erupts, and you instinctively tense up. An involuntary whimper of pain escapes you, and he immediately stops.

“No, no… My love.” He retracts immediately. “I will not continue. I cannot bear it.”

“I want to. Please, keep trying.”

Considering your words carefully, he returns to his previous position. One arm bracing himself next to your head, the other carefully working his cock back inside you. Once he is almost certain he can manage not to slip out, he moves his fingers to your clit working with that same pressure and pace you seemed to enjoy earlier. 

Suddenly, you were breathing again, letting out all the tension you were harbouring out of fear. Xavier felt himself gliding more easily into your welcoming warmth and let out a relieved sigh of pleasure. 

The knights he had spent time with in battle encampments spoke of the intense satisfaction of being enveloped by their spouses. He had never imagined it would feel like this.

You still felt the sting of him as he slipped further and further inside, but whatever magic he was performing with his fingers greatly eased your discomfort. Beyond the pain, a promise of pleasure began revealing itself, like the moon would replace the sun, shielding you from the scorching rays.

Not fully trusting your voice, you placed a hand on his lower back, pressing slightly encouraging him to move faster.

“Okay… Okay…” He gulped against the crook of your neck.

His fingers reluctantly abandoned you, but Xavier was certain he would need both his arms to carry his body through the following movements. Up until now, he had been so caught up in the possibility of inflicting pain on his beloved wife, forgetting everything about his own pleasure.

Your hands were still roaming over his hips and lower back, trembling as you succumbed to impatience. Why was he still hesitating when you had been so clear you were ready for more?! Unwilling to wait any longer, you wrapped your legs around his waist, closing the remaining distance between your hips. 

“Ah!” He gasped, momentarily overcome by the intense pleasure. “Careful, my love. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“I am aching, Xavier. Please move. Please.” Restless and needy, you begin rolling your hips up to meet his that still refused to budge.

Unbeknownst to you, he had his reasons for remaining still. He was close, again. The small movements you were producing underneath him threatened to be his undoing. 

“I must beg of you, my love. Do. Not. Move.” Fearful you had done something wrong, something he disapproved of, you stopped. 

He was staring down at you now, almost touching his forehead to yours. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. All you could manage was the smallest, most pathetically whispered ‘sorry’ before you closed your eyes to discourage any tears.

“You feel too good.” He said before kissing you tenderly. “Once I reach my peak, my body will not be able to contribute like this for a while. I would have to use other methods to help you reach yours.” He kisses you again before gazing down at you almost apologetically. “I do not consider myself to be a selfish man, but right now, I cannot give you what you want. Give me a moment, then I will resume. I promise I will make it worth the wait.”

Reassured that you had, in fact not made any major mistakes, you forced your hips to remain still. Instead, you reached up and tugged his neck down so you could reach it, leaving slow, unintentionally sensual kisses along his flushed skin. Hopefully, he would appreciate your kisses to his neck the way you enjoyed his. 

“Mhmmm.” He moaned against your ear as he slowly began moving his hips. 

The feeling was overwhelming. He reached far deeper than you had been able to when he was stagnant above you. A steady pace of deep thrusts had you shivering beneath him. 

Surely this must be it, right? A few reassuring words and tender touches were all it took for you to fully surrender yourself to this man. Trust, security, and the occasional challenges that always left you wanting to pull him closer. Did you love him? Did he love you? 

With uneven breaths and shy hums of pleasure, you feel your thighs tighten around him. That intense feeling you were so fearful of was making a return. This time, you dare welcome it knowing you are safe in your husband's embrace. 

You clench around him, daring to let out the embarrassing noises you had attempted to restrain. The changes in your body and breathing alerted him to your impending release and further accelerated the pressure of his own. 

Xavier mumbled hushed praises into your skin as the steady rhythm he had maintained began to falter. 

“S’okey, you’re safe. Let go, my love. Relax” 

Your body responded to his words instantly, as if he had given you a simple task to complete. Nothing about this was simple, but he had made it easier. Your back arched, pressing your breasts against his glazed skin as a final unrestrained moan echoed against the stone walls. 

Still coming down from the aftershocks of your climax, you shakily whisper words of encouragement like he had done for you.

“Thank you, my love. You’re doing so well. I’ve got you, let go for me.”

He responded just as eagerly as you did as he thrusted deep inside you a few more times. You felt his release against your insides before his body went limp on top of yours. Your arms instantly enveloped him, and your legs remained securely latched together behind his back, not willing to part with him just yet, if ever… 

Bathed in a mixture of heavy breathing, sweat, satisfaction and safety, you felt like you were home for the first time since you left Linkon several months ago. 

After a few more moments of shared silence, Xavier bravely reclaimed control of his arms, lifting his body enough to take in your blissful expression. You met his attentive gaze with a loving smile, and he graced you with one of his own in return.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You know he means well, but you cannot help but ponder the stupidity of the question. Had your body not made it obvious enough to him that you were, in fact, doing quite well?

As your smile only continues to grow, he dares make assumptions regarding your answer. He giggles, and you are convinced no sound will ever fill you with this much joy ever again. 

Yes. This was it.

“Xavier.”

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

The room goes quiet. His smile disappears instantly, and for each passing second yours fades too. 

Panic and shock wash over him. Instinct tells him to ‘flee’, but his attempt to do so fails when he realizes your body is shackling him to you. So you let him go… 

Emptiness overcomes you, and the exposed feeling you thought belonged to the past returns to haunt you once more. You sit up against the pillows and pull your legs toward you, wincing slightly from the sore ache between your legs. 

“Sorry… I shall gather my things and return to my chambers.” 

Before you have time to shuffle off the bed, his hand shoots out to stop you. 

“Don’t. Please, stay.” 

Suddenly, the confusing labyrinth you thought you had escaped weeks ago stood before you again, proudly hiding your husband in its darkness. You needed his light to guide you back, but it was too dim to properly illuminate your path. 

His shaky exhale made you hopeful he was ready to speak, but then his lips pressed together in a thin line, and his eyes closed. He looked like he was in pain. Pain caused by your unwanted confession…

“I…” His grip on your arm was so tight you began to worry you would bruise. But you did not care. You would give him whatever he wanted just to hear him say it. 

“Say it, Xavier. Please, trust me. You are safe with me. Dare to be bold.”

He knew. He knew he felt the same as you and that he had for quite some time already. Why could he not simply say it? Coward…

Bare skin, tangled hair, ruined sheets stained with the evidence of your joined pleasure. He could still see the smile on your face with his eyes closed. If he opened his eyes, it would be lost. He needed to see you smile like that again, and he wanted to be the cause of it. Always. 

“Do you not —”

Xavier shuffled closer to your naked body and stared into your eyes with the kind of passion reserved for imagined love stories that only exist on paper. 

“I do. More than I will ever be able to understand. And I hope that one day I will not be so afraid to show you the depths of my affection.”

Then he reached out and pulled you close again. Your body had gone surprisingly cold, almost making him shiver at the contact. After those agonizing minutes of silence you were finally able to breathe again and relaxed into him instantly. 

You wanted to praise him for being honest, for daring to speak his truth, but you feared that if you spoke, he might remain silent so that he could listen to you instead of himself. 

With you safely tucked against his chest under the soft sheets, Xavier felt like he had finally found his home. Not this castle. Not Philos. No, his true home was next to you. Once his battles had been fought and won, he would show you how devoted to you he truly is. That was his promise to himself. Be bold… 

“I love you, Starlight.”

AN: This was my first attempt at writing smut and was originally a chapter in Every vanquished foe that was posted back in august, but I wanted to share it separately as well since it could almost be read as a standalone fic anyways ⭐️ Thanks for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! If anyone is interested in being added to the taglist, let me know!

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He likes to read in the morning. 

He likes his wine in the evenings. 

His sword must be polished. 

His bath must be drawn at sunset. 

Your robes must be tied like so. 

Your obedience is the King’s right, not yours. You will be perfect, and if he must ask twice…

Well, let’s not dwell on such consequences. 

You are given to the other handmaidens, all plucked from scattered villages much like your own. They like to exchange tales of their time with the King. Some are kind, others are cruel. The only thing that can be agreed upon is that his mercy for mistakes is scarce, if granted at all. 

This frightens you. 

Because you are awful. 

Despite your month of training, you cannot choose a book wisely. You cannot pour the wine from such a distance as expected, not without spilling. No matter how you try, the motions you use, the King’s glittering sword continues to smudge. The bath waters are never warm enough. You cannot perform the special knot required for your robes, so it keeps sagging by midday. 

What you can do is be obedient, but tragically, not perfect. Not the way the King needs you to be. You have labelled yourself useless, and when it is eventually your turn to truly serve him, you fear he might have your head. 

The other women don’t care. They’ve all served their time with him, and they care little for who might take their place. 

All they want is to go home. 

So do you. 

You meet with the King on your final day of training, not because you’ve been summoned, but because he manages to observe your poor form. You’re with the eldest handmaiden, and bless her sweet soul, she tries to help you. 

“Trust yourself,” she advises, her voice like a summer sky. So clear, so beautiful. “You pour the wine like so, with your hand steady,” she demonstrates for you, as she always does. Her eyes are closed, and of course, she pours it perfectly. 

When you try, your hand trembles, the wine splitting down the edge of the goblet, pooling onto the wooden table. 

You weren’t aware that he’d entered the room, mistaking the sudden silence for judgment. It is only when he speaks that you grow taut. 

“Leave.”

The other handmaiden bows, scuttling away with the other attendants. You go to follow, but the King looks at you, pinning you in place. You’ve been staring down at the floor, deathly afraid you might meet his eye. 

“You cannot pour my wine, polish my sword, nor draw my bath. Is there anything you can do?”

So he’s been told by the others. The shame bleeds into an ache. 

You’ve come to decide that the King is like his glittering blade. Pretty, but holds the promise of something sharp—that no matter how decorated, it is a weapon, and it will cut you down. 

You feel your body quivering as you hold back tears. “I can be obedient, my Grace. I can be better.”

“I do not want better. I want perfection.”

You clench your eyes shut, cutting off the threat of escaping tears. “I want to be perfect, my Grace. More than anything.” You despise the hesitation in your voice. 

“Look at me.”

The command has you inwardly crumple, so very frightened. Yet, by your word, you obey. 

You’ve never seen the King directly before, not at such a close distance, and the sight bewilders you. Pale hair flows down his decorated form, his features ironically kind and gentle. Like gemstones, his blue eyes gleam, only to shift into something spiteful as they hold your own. Heat floods through you as he slowly rakes you down, scrutinising every inch of you—the King sneers. 

“You received my letter to serve? I should rescind the offer. You are… inadequate.”

You might very well black out from the mortification. You bow to him anyway, several stray tears slipping free.  

“Nothing to say in your defense?” He sounds disgusted. 

With a gentle tone, rasped by pain, you say, “No, my Grace. I agree with you entirely.”

He walks toward you, his decorative armour tinkling like shrine bells. With two gloved fingers, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look back up at him. Your pitiful tears have soiled the fabric of his gloves, and the King clicks his tongue with distaste. 

“I am merciful today,” he announces to you, his tone pure ice. “I will keep you for one month. If you do not improve…” he does not need to finish his sentence. The threat is in his arctic gaze. 

“I will improve, my Grace,” you whisper. “I will be perfect.”

“For who?” His fingers retreat, only so he can pinch your jaw. 

“For you, my Grace. I will be perfect for you.” 

The King leans in until his nose aligns with yours. “Say it again. Slower.”

He doesn’t pull away; he’s so close that his mouth is hovering above yours, his breath warm and sweet from his morning tea.

“I will be perfect for you, my Grace.” Your voice trembles, breathy and strained by his grip on your chin. Your words brush against his parted lips as if he’s tasting them. 

The King snaps away, releasing you with impeccable speed. “Get out.”

You do not hesitate to obey. 

+++

You are not perfect, but you are better. 

When the king is bathing, you wait behind the screen, re-tying your robes over and over until your fingers go numb. When he is in the courtyard practicing with his sword, you hide behind the shields, pouring cheap servant wine into a cup, willing the motion to sink into your bones. 

You do these things, and you do not sleep until you must.

But as your time as handmaiden continues, you learn other things. You know that the King prefers his meals to be eaten outside if the breeze is light and the sunset golden, or arranged inside if the clouds hang thick. You learn that he enjoys harps in the morning, but the cello in the evening. You have these things organised, knowing his mood from the very second he awakens. 

 He does not speak to you, doesn’t even give you a shred of appreciation. Because these things are expected. And yet, during your rotation with the other handful of women, the king requests you.

“The inadequate one,” he calls you, a token of your brief interaction last month. 

When you come to him, your robes exquisite but not flawless, he scoffs. You fear it is a test, that if you misperform once more, he’s going to have your body sent back to your family in white wrappings. 

It is late in the evening when you’re next called. One of the other girls passes you by, an odd look in her eye. Not sympathy, nor jealousy… just… confusion. 

You can't help but feel the same. 

“My Grace, how might I serve?” you murmur, slipping into his chambers with tentative caution. 

Once the king retires, as do the handmaidens. That was the way of things, how it’s always been. Why are you here? 

“Come.”

You hold your breath as you approach him, willing your gaze to remain steady, fixated on an artwork beyond him. His robe is the colour of sapphires, an endless blue so like his eyes that it has your senses tingling. 

He says nothing more, but he doesn’t need to. 

Your quivering fingers struggle with his upper binds, straining on your tiptoes due to his imposing height. The world has gone silent, and the only sound that fills the room is the rustling of rich fabric. When you finish, you step away, almost pressed against the wall.

“I do not like you,” he states, so simple and so cold. 

You don’t apologise. You know how much he hates those. 

“Oh,” you whisper, pained—an accident. 

He whips his head, glaring. His ice-filled stare impales you, nailing you to that wall. Your breath becomes choked at the back of your throat. It had not been an invitation to speak, however small. 

This is it. He’s going to execute you. Bowing your head, you concede to him. “I have failed you, my Grace. You have extended enough mercy, and even still, I have failed. This month comes to an end, and I am not perfect.”

The silence that follows is charged, a swirl of dread and disgust. 

“Is this your pitiful attempt to receive a King’s dismissal?” You wince at the venom in his taunt. 

“No, my Grace,” you splutter to your defense, eyes widening with regret. “No, never—”

He raises his hand to cut you off. “You really should be. I have executed people for less.”

He is intent on wounding you, isn’t he? You feel the sting of tears, hating how pathetic it makes you. And yet, the King cocks his head, interested. “Do not hold back. Cry.”

You obey. 

You muster your misery with ease, letting them slip down your cheeks, drip down your chin. He watches you weep before him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. With a beckoning finger, he motions for you to come forward. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is hushed, but as always, so very cold. 

“I…”

He narrows his eyes, cautioning you.

A lump forms in your throat, but slowly, you whisper, “I’m crying for you, my Grace.”

His stare is sharper than any dagger. “For me?” 

You swallow the lump, hating how you’re shivering. “Because of you, my Grace.”

The King smirks. It’s subtle, barely a tug to the lips, but a smirk nonetheless. His gaze drags past you, settling on something on one of his many luxurious dressers and side tables. 

“Bring me my wine.”

With a sniffle, you turn to fetch it, but the goblet has but a mouthful left. You say as much, since there are no bottles for you to inadequately replenish. With an arched brow, he tips his chin, summoning you to come back. You freeze before his imposing frame, the goblet cupped in your hands. 

“Pour me a drink.”

Your brow knits with confusion. “My Grace?”

That sparkling arctic gaze never once leaves yours as he says, “With your tears, handmaiden.”

With a deep breath, you summon your swirling storm of self-pity, willing the tears to continue. They glide down your face, and with a gentle tink… tink… tink… they drip from your chin into the goblet. When your quiet weeping ceases, the King appears satisfied. 

He snatches the cup from your grasp, his bare fingers brushing over yours. 

You cannot suppress the shiver it elicits. 

Not once does his stare waver, demanding your entire attention as he downs the contents in one smooth motion. Your heart stutters, your stomach twisting into knots. It is strangely intimate, and you’re startled at how you wished you had more sorrow to give him. 

The tense quiet stretches on. You don't move; you haven't been dismissed. The King just stands there with his empty goblet, studying you with what you can only assume is contempt. There's a look in his eye, dark and twisted as he glares down at you. Whatever is flashing through his mind is painfully loud, especially as he takes a step back from you, shoulders falling forward. You believe he's about to speak, a muscle in his jaw twitching, lips pursing ever so slightly… but he does not.

“Be gone.” 

You slip through his chamber doors, but do not fully close them, as the sound of his grumbling and cursing has you hesitate. It’s the slightest of cracks, but it offers you enough of an opportunity to see the King tug at his royal robes, the rustling harsh and aggressive. You suck in your gasp as you see his bare torso, rippling with fine muscle and perfect skin. What truly demands your attention is what’s lurking beneath his braies. The King is painfully erect, the complete outline of his cock pushing against the thin material of his undergarments. 

You withdraw immediately, your face blooming the deepest shade of scarlet. You know you should leave, and as you turn to do so, you remember you’ve left the doors ajar. With a wince, you creep back, with curiosity getting the better of you. 

You peep once more, telling yourself that it’s so he doesn’t notice you’re still here when you click the doors shut. 

The King is seated on one of his lounges, pumping his length, head thrown back and that smooth skin of his now sheened with perspiration. Hissing through his teeth, he snaps back, glaring down at the goblet he’s discarded on the floor. 

The one you wept in. 

He’s angry—no, furious. The way he’s masturbating has your nerves ignited. He’s cursing under his breath, the hatred in his eyes as he continues to work himself. You have no choice but to wait until he’s close to finishing, his gleaming stare finally clenching shut. It’s only when he groans, such a deep and throaty noise, thick spurts of cum decorating his stomach, that you close the door, his heavy pants masking the click of the lock.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧.*

Part 2 will be coming soon! And as always, endless thanks to every single one of you who takes the time to read. I appreciate you so much 🥹

You hadn’t expected Xavier to notice you slip away; he was drowning in the attention of his ministers and diplomats as it were, and frankly you didn’t feel like talking to him. 

Especially not with the way his gaze seemed to linger on the ladies-in-waiting being paraded in front of him. No matter the millenia, there were always lesser nobles trying to curry the king’s favor through their daughters and sons. That, coupled with your lack of ties to nobility despite being the Queen Consort, was a perennial sore spot. The whisper campaign about how you seduced the Mad King, how you must’ve slept your way to being Grandis Knight and then Consort despite having no lands or titles, was evident in every hushed conversation, a persistent buzz every second Xavier held court. 

Although Xavier had made it abundantly clear that that was not the case– showering you with his affection, his words, his time, his touch– the ugly feelings were difficult to deal with, especially in front of an audience. All the pomp and circumstance of the long day meant you had way too much time to stew in your misplaced anger. 

Your favorite solution to this problem? To leave as quickly as possible so that no one would catch your mask slipping. You needed an escape from the stuffy courtiers, the polite superficial conversation.

It takes Xavier mere steps to cross the dais and you hear him come to a stop in front of the throne where you stood. You refuse to acknowledge him, stewing in your nervous energy. 

The sudden warmth of his chest against your back startles you as his arms circle your waist. Xavier sighs happily, as he always does when the two of you are alone. He doesn’t speak, instead leaving little pecks on your cheek, nose nuzzling behind your ear, long hair tickling your neck. 

“Jeremiah almost bit my head off for ignoring the ladies being introduced.”

He knows. Of course he can tell by the way you hold yourself. With merely a sentence, the worries you had been nourishing start to release.

Wordlessly, he spins you around, and he takes your hand in his, pressing a soft, polite kiss over your knuckles as if the ball was actually here and he was just a gentleman inviting you to dance.  

You pout halfheartedly, unwilling to fold so quickly. You’re only prolonging the inevitable though, because you can’t help but move into his embrace, seeking his comfort. You feel him chuckle as he kisses your hair and squeezes you in a hug before taking your hand once more right as music starts to fill the room from the outside. 

The two of you cut across the moonlight soaked room in an effortless waltz, not a beat out of tempo, his arms a strong cradle around you. The hall is silent except for your heels clicking in time to the muted sounds of the orchestra.

Midway through the third movement, a minuet this time, Xavier finally speaks.

“How can I show my dear Queen–” a step forward, your gown shimmering across the floor, “– how much she means to me?”.

 A sweeping sidestep to his right. He places another kiss over your wedding ring, mannerisms gentle, eyes anything but.

All the fight bleeds out of you as you follow his lead, letting him control the pacing, giving up your pain, choosing him instead. Xavier has so much to carry, and the two of you only have each other.

The music swells and he pulls you in close, steady hand on your back as he gently dips you, stealing a kiss to your cheek. 

“How can I show her that I would throw it all away just for her?” he breathed, eyes wide. It startles you, the determination behind his statement, as if he was repeating a sworn oath, one that kept him company throughout his journey in the heavens. 

Another kiss, this time his breath hovering just a beat too long on the curve of your chest, gaze heavy over the line of your neck, the shadows over your collarbones, taking in the way your breathing started to become heavier. When it comes to flirtation, Xavier is shameless. 

“How do I tell her, ‘The only title I want is as her husband?' ”. He plants a constellation of kisses on your collarbone, each one setting your body alight. You feel heat start to fan across your body as he traces his fingertip along your jeweled choker.

“I suppose I could always shower her in more gifts,” he muses, smiling as he pecks your nose. He rewards your giggle of delight with another.

“But I think this way is better,” he says as he leans in to finally kiss you, deeply, as if he could imprint his adoration for you onto your body. His palms reach up to cradle your cheeks, tilting it just so right as sweeps his tongue into your mouth, humming with delight when your lips part at his intrusion.

Gently, reluctantly, Xavier pulls back, pleased with how your lips are now parted, eyes half-lidded, nervously swallowing your need, no shade of your petulant earlier self. It was never actually personal. You just needed a little reminder. 

Xavier holds you cheek to cheek as the two of you sway to the violins outside, the light of your gown and the dark of his suit a study in intimate contrast. A firm suck to your earlobe has a moan escaping you, and that’s when you hear it, just a whisper above your ear. 

“Shall I execute every person who makes you feel this way?”

You freeze, a distant alarm bell sounds, just a little.

He doesn’t react, and you find his gaze is suddenly distant and dull over your shoulder. When you don’t respond, he continues, voice steady, “String them outside the castle walls because they dare make my wife feel this way?”. He says this matter-of-factly, like it's nothing as he kisses your cheek and something like fear settles in your spine alongside the arousal. He would never want you to be afraid of him, but you know him also to be a good actor.

“I’d do anything for you, you know.” 

“I know, Your Majesty.” is all you can muster as you blink owlishly at him.

But before you can speak any further he pulls back and smiles at you, eyes soft and full of affection, not a trace of malice or otherwise. Sometimes, you’re not sure which Xavier you’re speaking to. 

You take an unconscious step backward.

“Uh-uh. Don’t run from me.” he coos.

“Not you too.” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. Your heart quickens, off-kilter by the sudden change in Xavier’s demeanor as he slowly walks forward, leaving you nowhere to go but the throne. 

 He’s playing with you though, you realize, because he’s giving you plenty of opportunities to run. 

“Light can travel around Philos in 0.013 seconds”, you remember him saying once, somewhere in the murky past. 

If he was ever serious, well, it’d be over before you even knew it.

You collapse onto his seat, slightly bewildered, equal parts burning with desire and stiff with a kind of fear. 

“Ah,” he remarks, “Where are my manners?” 

He flings the tails of his jacket back, and kneels in front of you, hand over his heart.

“May I take this opportunity to show my devotion Your Highness?”

Xavier doesn’t need a throne to project authority. Even as he kneels in front of you, the picture of supplication, with his back to the door, a position anyone else would consider vulnerable; you’re the one who is pinned by his gaze, by the smile playing at his lips as his eyes trails up the slit of your gown. It’s his particular favorite, the gold thread blending in seamlessly with the ivory and traces of blue, delicate golden flowers at your feet, just like he had requested. 

“You may.” is your response.

Xavier doesn’t skip a beat, eager hands retracing his eyes. His palm comes to rest just skimming the highest point of the cut in your dress, fingertips just skirting the lace of your garter, anchoring your leg to him. Xavier rests his head on your other thigh, looking up at you from under his lashes.

“Allow me to show you then.” he whispers, hot breath ghosting over your legs. The silky material transfers the feeling straight to your center. Without waiting for an answer he suddenly reaches under you and yanks you towards him. The sudden movement makes your legs butterfly open, causing the material of your dress to pull up and bunch around your waist. 

Xavier runs his knuckle up your covered core, ignoring your panicked demands to stop as it dawns on you what he’s about to do. Right now. In the open. In the room where you’d always felt your lowest.

Thought quickly flees however, as Xavier brings the full weight of his attention onto you. He kisses right over your clitoris, laving and sucking at it through the thin fabric, ruining it for good measure before pulling them to the side.

Xavier eats you out with a ferocity he reserves for little else. He uses everything at his disposal, fingers, tongue, lips, nose to feel every part of you, sending ripples of pleasurable overwhelm throughout your body, the kind that makes you chase for more and more. It’s animalistic and sloppy as your juices and his saliva drip down his chin and your thighs, defiling the literal seat of his power.  

His iron grip holds your legs open, giving you no quarter, no way to escape his assault. You scrabble at the arms of his throne, looking for an anchor, anything. Xavier snatches your wrist, placing your hand in his long hair, carelessly knocking his crown to the floor. You’re so far away it barely registers.

Hold on to me, I always have you, is what he means. 

It’s all you can do to hold onto him. He moans when you yank, eyes rolling into the back of his skull, as he continues with fervor. Your nerves are on fire before he finally takes a break to bruise your thighs, leaving purple blossoms all over the tops of your garters, looking almost deranged with lust as he straightens up to kiss you, the scent of you all over his mouth, the taste of you all over his tongue. He looks almost rejuvenated.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from you with a gasp before diving back into your cunt.  

“Y-Your Majesty I–” a particularly earnest suck has you seeing white. 

“That’s not who I am,” he retorts instantly, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He watches the way you swirl your tongue around his fingers with rapt attention, sticking them just far enough down your throat to be uncomfortable, making you gag. You don’t miss the way his eyes darken, blue eclipsed entirely by black, as he watches you choke. You must be mad too, because that only amplifies your need for him. For this Xavier, your Xavier, the one that indulges the darkest parts of himself, the parts that do live up to his reputation, a sight only ever for you to see. 

What His Majesty wants you to know is that before he is king, he is yours. Before he is anybody, he is just Xavier. 

He would be content to do this for the rest of his unnatural life, head between your legs, two fingers slowly pushing in, grinning as you let your head fall back with a moan. He curls his fingers with devastating precision, relishing in your pleas and gasps, the little tells signalling that you wanted more. 

“Don’t be shy starlight.” the old nickname from before fills you with a kind of warmth that could only be described as divine.  

“Tell me what you want,” Xavier pleads, voice husky, “let me be a good husband and a good lover.” It makes your heart ache. 

Your words come out crystal clear. Full of surety that he wishes you would always have moving forward.

“Make me feel good. I want you to make me feel good Xavier.”

He shudders as he hears his name fall from your lips, turning to kiss the little anklet he gifted you on your wedding day, a delicate barely there golden chain. Even in the dim light the little “X” glitters as you thrash around in his grasp, arching your back off the throne as his fingers continue to pump methodically in and out of your hole. Occasionally, he’ll pull them completely out, instead dragging his hand across your folds, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver as you demand sensation from him.

Your world shrinks to the feelings that he allows you, the points of contact he allows you to partake in. He is equally as vocal as you are, the way he moans your name into your pussy makes your skin dance, sweat shimmering all over you.

It’s your turn to be in prayer, as you cry out his name over and over.

“Yes—oh god Xavier— Xavier— my angel.”

He lets you scream yourself hoarse before he adds a third finger.

You see stars, trying desperately to scrabble off of Xavier’s face as you approach your end. Some distant part of you knows that he’ll have to walk around with evidence of your sin all over him back to royal bedchambers. The more present part of you though, knows that that is a foregone conclusion, and that he doesn’t care. In fact, you know Xavier would be delighted and shameless about it.

There’s nowhere to go as he pulls you towards oblivion on the tip of his tongue.

“All over me, or nothing at all starlight.”

The contrast between the fullness in your pussy, his ringed knuckle brushing on your clit, and the roughness in his voice has you spiraling as you cum. Your orgasm is unmistakable in the way you try desperately to curl in on yourself, in the way your thighs ache, warm liquid spraying onto his chest, his hair as you buck into Xavier’s face with a cry. 

Xavier watches as you drip down the throne onto his claymore with naked, almost incredulous delight. 

“Now you’ve gotten it all over my blade…” he tutted, “wasn’t enough to just soak my clothes hmm?”

Firm fingers grasp your jaw, directing your gaze back to him. While you’ve been on the receiving end of his affection, he looks almost worse than you, evidence of your release all over his chin and hands and jacket. That, coupled with the secretive smile on his lips lets you know he is far from done.

His voice is soft as his thumb caresses your cheek. “I seem to recall allowing you to cum, but not to make a mess.”

“I recall no agreements of any sort,” you croak, still coming to, trying to catch your breath. “Has my liege picked up bad habits at court too?” 

His laugh, relaxed and unguarded, echoes across the air you two share.

“There’s also the matter of my consort getting in her head about frivolous, untrue things,” he tuts, finger tapping his lip as if in thought.

“We’re going to leave court for a spell, just the two of us,” he whispers, palms once again parting your thighs as he licks his lips, “and I’ll permanently extinguish that thought from your pretty head before we return.”  

It’s a promise as good as any oath.

notes:can't wait to get my greedy hands on all the new lore. i wrote this to distract myself from the wait (curse being in na server!). this kind of went in all manner of directions tonally i was kind of hoping to strike a balance between loving wifeguy xavier and maybe he's actually gone slightly crazy xavier. i hope he isn't too ooc! if you saw any mistakes, it's approximately 1 am and i wrote/edited the bulk of this in a few hours shh. i want to see him getting pegged on the throne too hmm.

may he come home on soft pity to everyone who wants him!

SFW

♛ since you’ve made it a habit of braiding his hair, xavier makes it a habit back. he’ll idly braid your hair while you sleep, read, write, in conversation. he’s gotten to know your hair and it’s texture enough that he’ll always notice when it’s mussed up or especially clean.

♛ shadowbind is not just his horse, it’s yours now too. he teaches you to take care of him and sooner or later the stallion is attached to you. xavier will take you on late night rides through the fields to help clear your head and get you fresh air. he’ll always let you sit in front and he’ll always hold you tight from the back.

♛ he gets you your own throne… and then teases you with it. he’ll see you sitting there like a queen and playfully kneel to you. he’ll play with you. say “fetch me some water,” the eager king is scrambling to get you a glass. “i’m too tired to walk down these steps,” the eager king picks you up immediately. while sparring you’ll land a decisive hit on his chest and he’ll dramatically stumble back and beg for your mercy. “please, my queen! i will challenge you no longer!”

♛ speaking of sparring, if there’s one thing king xavier loves doing, it’s tending to you. you point at every place he hit you too hard and pout. he’ll smile and nod. “here?” he kisses your shoulder. “where else? here?” he kisses your wrist. “where else does it hurt, your majesty?” he kisses your hip. “you seem to be hurting everywhere. do not fret, i have enough kisses.”

♛ stations himself outside of your door for hours on end just to make sure you’re not bothered by the reverants or having another bad dream. he listens to every sigh and sound. he doesn’t sleep much already, but he’d rather spend his spare time waiting on you anyway.

♛ sometimes the crown gets too heavy and annoying for him, so he asks you to make him flower crowns to replace them. each week you’ll design a new crown of different colors and intricacies for him to wear, and each crown he preserves in glass boxes on display around his castle. king xavier is more sentimental than he looks.

NSFW

♛ not too much of a patient guy… at all. if he wants you then he really wants you, he doesn’t want to wait if he doesn’t have to. he lets you know by placing his cold, armored hands on your hips and tilts you back to his front. he’s not shy with his words either. “you don’t wear armor like i do, instead you parade around in thin silk and expect me to not notice how beautiful you look.”

♛ on the throne. yeah. particularly eating you out on the throne. the throne room is so large and vast, your moans would echo out so loudly that it just makes the entire experience better. why is sex and intimacy limited to just the bedroom? this is his castle after all, and you are his queen. he has every right. but the throne is so intimate. it’s made of only the most precious materials, materials that shimmer and shine whenever you come on them. sometimes he’ll have you such a wreck that your arousal will drip from the seat and onto the floors. he won’t stop until you’re sliding off the seat but even then, he’ll hold you down and dig his head beneath your dress and drink until the seat is dry again.

♛ likes it semi-public. i’m talking not obvious but… suspicious. like if you’re in a crowd of people and stagnant for awhile… why can’t he just slip it in? he’ll give a look, one you know all too well. you could stop him and tell him to wait but… you could also enjoy yourself. “up for me,” he murmurs by your ear, referring to your dress. everything is pulled aside to be able to fill you. his body and armor are big enough to shield what’s really happening, but sometimes it’s a close call. he thrusts gently when people are talking to you or him and it makes you stutter and stumble a bit. when the attention isn’t so intense, he’ll lean down and nibble on your ear while verbally teasing you. “you’re so tight that you’re dragging me everywhere you go by my cock. excited, my queen?”

♛ one thing led to another but… you really liked his sword… and he really liked that you really liked his sword. so he wanted to see just how much you liked it. “just like that, slower,” he rumbles. xavier’s sat on a chair by your bed, watching you hump the scabbard of the sword. all the rough and bumpy details make for good stimulation on your clit. king xavier likes watching. he likes directing. “spread a bit more for me. does it feel good grinding on it? all those intricate, beautiful designs, crafted to be revered and shine bright, are now being used as your toy. maybe i’ll fight better next time if you come all over it.”

♛ favorite position: cow girl… or reverse! why? it’s the most convenient. he loves every position, but he looovvesss having you on his lap and he looovvessss watching. on his throne? cowgirl works best. on the horse? reverse cowgirl. on a field in his arms, bow bow bow, cowgirl. it’s also a very easy position to switch into other positions. your size does not matter, he’s too strong for his own good. one flip and you’re in missionary. another one, you’re on your side. it’s the best!

♛ loves draping you in his clothes. he wants you completely naked… and then he wants to throw his cape and crown on you. that’s it. he loves sex this way. the cape is way too big for you and his crown doesn’t nestle properly on your head, but he doesn’t want you to look prim and proper when in bed with him, he wants you to be a mess. it’s a not-so-subtle way of saying that you are his. not ownership, but your love, attention, affection, devotion all belong to him and him only, same way his belong to you. for too long he’s been just king. so he needs to make sure you know now that it’s king and queen.