xavier’s starlight

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caleb ❀༉‧₊ he comes in slow, expecting to find you napping, maybe scrolling, but the moment he steps into the room, he stops mid-breath. your legs are spread, hips rocking gently, hand working between your thighs like you’re in a trance. you don’t see him at first—eyes closed, mouth parted, breath stuttering in that way he knows. and fuck, he should’ve left. should’ve said something. but he doesn’t. he just watches, cock twitching in his sweats as you moan his name softly into the empty room. when you finally open your eyes and spot him there—flushed, frozen, a little stunned—your fingers pause, but he crosses the room before you can say a word. kneels beside the bed, cups your face, whispers, “don’t stop, baby. i want you to cum while i’m watching. please.” and when you obey? he kisses your trembling lips the entire time your body falls apart.

xavier ❀༉‧₊ he freezes in the doorway like he walked in on a secret. like he saw something holy and didn’t know if he was supposed to look. the way your hips lift off the bed, fingers working sloppy and fast over your clit, breath hitching, face flushed—it’s more than his brain can process. you’re touching yourself. thinking of him. he starts to back away, face burning, but then you gasp his name and it stops him cold. “xav—please…” and he doesn’t know what you’re asking for, not really, but he comes back anyway. quiet steps. heavy breath. sits on the edge of the bed like his heart’s about to break through his chest. and when you whimper again, thighs shaking, he reaches over with trembling fingers, brushing your wrist. “can i… can i help?” he doesn’t even need to move—just watches you finish right there, panting, soaked, eyes locked on his, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

zayne ❀༉‧₊ he leans in the doorway with a slow smile, arms crossed over his chest like he’s caught you red-handed—like you wanted him to find you like this. and maybe you did. the second he sees you—head tipped back, hips grinding against your fingers, breathy little curses spilling from your lips—he knows he’s not stopping it. he likes the show. likes knowing he made you this desperate without even touching you. “couldn’t wait for me, huh?” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter open, wide and needy, soaked in guilt that he loves. you try to sit up, to cover yourself, but he’s already crossing the room, grabbing your hand and pressing it back between your legs. “nah,” he growls, voice rough, lips against your ear. “keep going. i wanna watch you make that pretty little mess for me.” and when you cum? he’s already got his cock out, already ready to bury it in you. “round two’s mine.”

sylus ❀༉‧₊ he doesn’t speak. doesn’t move. just stands there in the hallway, watching through the gap in the door like he’s dreaming. you’re lying back, one leg bent, two fingers soaked and working over your clit in tight, desperate circles. your other hand is gripping the sheets, body twitching, breath caught, and you’re whimpering his name. not once. over and over. like it’s your mantra. like you’re thinking about him while you fuck yourself. his cock is hard, leaking, aching—still untouched. he knows it’s wrong to just watch, knows he should go or say something or do something, but he’s stuck there, lips parted, breath shallow. and when your hips jerk, back arching, a choked sob escaping your throat—he comes in his pants. no friction. no hands. just your voice and the look on your face when you fall apart.

rafayel ❀༉‧₊ he walks in and sees you laid out across the sheets, knees bent, fingers buried between your thighs, lips parted around a broken moan. and he stops. just watches. eyes dark. arms folded across his chest like he’s deciding what to do with you. and you freeze, breath stuttering, hand slowing—but he shakes his head, soft but firm. “don’t you dare stop now, sweetheart.” sits at the foot of the bed like it’s nothing, like watching you fall apart is just part of his night. and then he reaches forward, pushing your knees wider, thumb brushing your inner thigh. “good girl,” he murmurs as you cum, body twitching, thighs squeezing around your hand. “that’s it. show me how bad you needed it.” and when you’re done, breathless and flushed, he kisses your trembling fingers and says, “next time, you let me do it for you.”

caleb — his fingers ❀༉‧₊˚ he’s so careful with them at first, stroking soft over your inner thighs like he’s easing you into a bath instead of getting you off. he kisses you the entire time—on your shoulder, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—while two thick fingers push slow and deep inside, curling with that same practiced rhythm he uses when he’s calming your anxiety. he watches your face the whole time, murmuring low praise, forehead pressed to yours when your hips start to twitch. and when you cum—wet, tight, breath caught in your throat—he keeps them there, fingers coaxing you through it while he whispers, “you don’t need anything else right now. just this. just me.”

xavier — his thigh ❀༉‧₊˚ you were teasing him. straddling his lap during a movie, grinding just enough to get a reaction. but xavier’s the one who turns it filthy—grabbing your waist, shifting you onto one of his thighs, and whispering, “go ahead, then. use it.” and you do. you try to stay quiet about it, but it’s too much—the way his muscle flexes under you, the pressure against your clit, the way he just watches you with wide, blown-out eyes like he can’t believe you’re really doing this. he doesn’t touch you anywhere else. doesn’t even kiss you. just lets you rock your soaking cunt against his jeans until you’re whining into his neck and shaking in his lap, absolutely undone.

zayne — his tongue ❀༉‧₊˚ you told him you didn’t need sex, just wanted to feel good. and he said okay. said “c’mere then, lay back.” like it was nothing. like he wasn’t about to put his whole soul into eating you out until your voice cracked. zayne’s tongue is everything. he groans when your hips roll up, when you grab his hair, when you cry out like you’re overwhelmed. and when you cum, he doesn’t pull away. not even close. he groans and licks you through it, nose bumping your clit, arms locked around your thighs to keep you there while you sob into your fist. “one more,” he murmurs, already sliding back down. “lemme taste it again.”

sylus — his bulge ❀༉‧₊˚ he was just sitting there—hood up, legs spread, pretending to read something while you shifted restlessly in his lap. you were the one who moved first, grinding slow over the thick bulge in his sweats, and he didn’t stop you. didn’t say a word. just went still. let you do it. and god, the way it felt—warm, heavy, thick and perfectly placed beneath the soft fabric—you couldn’t help it. your panties were already soaked. his cock twitched under you every time you rolled your hips, and all he did was exhale, eyes low, voice barely audible when he finally whispered, “don’t stop.” he never pulled it out. never asked for anything. just let you rut against him like you were in heat, soaking through both layers, crying out when you finally came with your face buried in his hoodie. and even then, he didn’t move—just held you tighter. let you grind through it. let your mess sink into his clothes. he came untouched minutes later. but he didn’t tell you that until hours after. voice quiet. flushed. “i couldn’t help it.”

rafayel — the toy he bought you ❀༉‧₊˚ he sits back on his elbows and watches—still dressed, still calm—while the toy buzzes between your thighs. it’s sleek, curved, pink. something he picked out with far too much confidence, pressing it to your clit with a smirk like he already knew what it would do to you. and it does. your legs are trembling, body twitching every time he presses the button to turn it up, voice cracking as you sob, “please—please, rafe, i can’t—” but he just shushes you gently, palm on your thigh, thumb stroking your skin like you’re being so good for him. “you’re almost there,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “show me how pretty you look when you cum.”

Pt1.

I thought of this and moot helped me complete it <3

Xavier would tag along with you to the nearby makeup store without a single complaint (he's just happy following you anywhere tbh), his quiet presence a steady comfort as he holds the small cart in his hand, letting it fill up with palettes and glosses while you excitedly browse the aisles.

He'd offer his hand as a willing canvas for swatching every shade that catches your eye, his skin warm and soft under your fingertips, murmuring soft encouragements like “That one suits you well,” Or “This one really brings out your eyes.” as you blend colors across his palm, turning the mundane errand into a shared adventure.

Back home, Xavier would pull you onto his lap with a gentle tug, settling you close as he closes his eyes in quiet trust, allowing you to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing his cheeks tenderly before you lean in to trail kisses over them, each one stamped with a different lipstick from the ones you'd bought together. Soft pinks fading into bold reds, leaving a colorful mosaic of your affection that makes him smile faintly, his arms wrapping around you to hold you even nearer.

he’s sitting on his bed, legs spread wide, back against the wall, shirt long gone, sweatpants shoved low on his hips, and his cock’s standing tall and thick against his abs—veiny, flushed, leaking like it’s been dying for your pussy all damn day.

and you’re hovering over it, naked, trembling, shy fingers clutching his broad shoulders, your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips.

“relax,” ichigo murmurs, voice low, calm, coaxing, even as his cock jerks between you, impatient. “i got you.”

you nod, biting your lip, but the nerves are eating you alive.

it’s not that you don’t want this. you do. you want to ride him. want to feel him deep and hot inside you, want to look down and see that cock disappearing into your cunt while his hands roam your body. you just… don’t know how. every time you try to lower yourself onto him, your thighs shake, your body hesitates, and you whimper like you’re about to break.

“baby,” he says, and you glance at him. his amber eyes soften. “you don’t need to rush. we’re not making a porno. we’re just making you feel good.”

your heart thuds in your chest, and you nod again.

his hands slide up your thighs—warm, strong—and settle on your hips. he guides you, gently, lifting you a little higher, the thick head of his cock rubbing against your soaked slit. you gasp, thighs tensing, but he just shushes you.

“feel that?” he murmurs. “that’s just me. just your boyfriend. you’re already so wet for me, baby. you’re perfect.”

you moan as he rocks his hips just a little, nudging the blunt crown of his cock against your entrance.

“c’mon, slow,” he whispers. “start with just the tip. you don’t have to take it all right away. i’ll hold you the whole time.”

you take a shaky breath, exhale, and start to sink.

it’s hot. thick. stretching.

your pussy swallows him inch by slow inch, and your breath catches, your head tilts back, mouth falling open with a soft, desperate moan.

“f-fuck—s’big—ichigo—”

“i know, i know,” he grits, jaw clenched, holding still, hands gripping your hips like you’re the last thing tethering him to earth. “take your time. just like that, baby. you’re doing so fucking good.”

you gasp, thighs trembling, nails digging into his shoulders as you ease lower, every second feeling impossibly fuller, tighter, more split-open than before.

he’s watching you. watching your face twist, watching your lips part, your lashes flutter, your body struggle and adapt. his cock twitches inside you, and he groans deep in his throat.

“god, you’re so tight,” he growls, almost reverent. “you were made for this—made for me. look at you. riding me for the first time like a good girl.”

that heat coils low in your belly, shame and arousal mixing until it’s molten. you bite your lip, whimpering, and finally—finally—your ass meets his thighs.

you’re fully seated. stretched around his cock. full to the fucking brim.

ichigo’s breath shudders out. “holy shit…”

you cling to him, hips twitching, thighs burning from the effort of holding still.

“i-it’s so much,” you whisper.

“i know, baby. but you took it all. i’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, kissing your throat, your jaw, your cheek. “now move for me. just a little. grind on me. you don’t have to bounce yet. just roll those pretty hips.”

you nod, slowly tilting your pelvis. the sensation punches the breath out of you. his cock drags against your walls, heavy, pulsing, rubbing just right against that spot that makes your legs shake.

you do it again.

“f-fuck—feels good,” you whisper, eyes wide, dizzy.

“yeah?” he growls, hands flexing on your hips. “show me. ride me, baby. let go.”

you find a rhythm. a soft grind, back and forth, your clit brushing his abs, his cock stroking your walls. your moans spill out uncontrolled now, head tossed back, tits bouncing gently with every movement.

“good girl,” he pants. “fuck—you’re so sexy like this. bouncing on my cock, dripping down my balls, riding me like i’m yours.”

you start to lift—up, then drop. his cock drives in deep, and you yelp.

“again,” he commands, eyes dark, hungry.

you obey. a shallow bounce. another. the wet slap of your pussy against his thighs starts to pick up, louder, filthier, and ichigo’s groaning now, head falling back against the wall.

“that’s it, ride me. just like that. you’re so fucking hot—bouncing that tight cunt on me, fuck—”

you’re whimpering, rocking, bouncing harder now, thighs burning, every nerve on fire as his cock pistons into you from below with every drop of your hips.

“you’re doing so good, baby. gonna make yourself cum riding this cock, huh?”

you nod frantically, hips slamming down again and again, and the coil inside you snaps. you scream, body seizing, walls fluttering tight around him.

ichigo loses it.

he grabs your ass, lifts you slightly, then slams you down as he thrusts up into you—once, twice, three brutal times—

and he cums.

hot. deep. flooding you with thick, heavy spurts that make your walls spasm again from the heat alone.

you collapse against him, shivering, twitching, cum dripping down your thighs.

he holds you. kisses your hair.

megumi’s fucking relentless when he wants to be.

you didn’t expect it—not from him. cool, quiet, closed-off. the kind of guy who mumbles through compliments, blushes if you so much as kiss his neck. but now? now he’s behind you on the bed, hands tight on your hips, chest damp with sweat, cock driving into your cunt at angles so precise it’s like he’s mapping you out with surgical intent.

except he hasn’t hit it yet.

he’s trying.

you can feel it in the way he keeps adjusting—sliding one knee forward, shifting your legs apart, reaching up to cup your tit while his other hand angles your hips higher. every thrust is different. measured. focused. calculated. he’s testing your body like a theory, chasing something he knows is there.

but you’re dazed.

whimpering, breathless, soaked and shaking, confused as fuck because every time you think he’s found it—fuck—he misses by a hair. it’s so close. the pleasure is blinding, but something inside is pulsing, begging, like a button he just hasn’t pushed yet.

he groans low behind you, voice hoarse and frustrated. “it’s in here,” he pants, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “i know it is—fuck, why can’t i—”

you mewl his name, back arching, your hands clawing at the sheets. “m-megumi, what—what’re you—f-fuck—”

“trying something,” he growls, and then—

then he grabs your hips, strong and firm, and lifts them slightly, angling your ass higher, tipping your pelvis up, bringing your cunt closer to him, tighter. he shifts forward, sinks deeper—

and hits it.

“fuck—!”

you scream. not a cute moan. not a gasp. a full-bodied, throat-shredding scream as your body convulses. your hands slap the mattress. your legs kick. your mouth falls open with a sob as something detonates inside you, pressure exploding.

then you squirt.

not a little trickle. not some delicate drip.

it gushes—loud, wet, uncontrollable—as megumi’s cock hits your g-spot dead-on and stays there, grinding into it while his grip on your hips keeps you locked in place.

his eyes widen, blown black, and he chokes out a groan that sounds like it’s dragged from the bottom of his lungs. “holy fuck—” his cock twitches hard inside you. “you—fucking squirted—”

you can’t speak. your voice is gone. your entire body is shaking, twitching under him, cunt spasming uncontrollably around his cock as slick pours out of you, soaking his thighs, the bed, everything.

“shit,” he pants, hips slamming forward again—same angle, same brutal grind—and you scream again, body lurching, nails digging into the mattress.

“you like that?” he hisses, his rhythm suddenly unhinged, frantic, chasing that spot with every thrust now. “that’s it, right there—fuck, i found it—look at you, fucking soaking me—”

“c-can’t—too much—megumi—!”

he doesn’t stop. not when you gush again, not when you sob and scream, not even when your legs shake like they might give out from under you. he holds you up, keeps that perfect angle, pounds your g-spot like it’s his fucking mission.

“you’re gonna cum like this,” he growls. “you’re gonna squirt all over me again. i want it. need it. give it to me.”

you break.

There! I said it!

The man has loved mc for three life times now, made a deal with the devil (Ever), traveled across time and space, moved planets, lived on Earth for a few hundred years to save / find her, and prevent catastrophe from happening to her, fuck even saving her as Lumiere when she was young.

She is the only one that sees him as himself. As Xavier.

He is kind, and comfortable, and selfless. He deals with immense survivors guilt and loves so deeply.

We talk about Rafayel and Caleb being the yearners and clingers. But have you seen Xavier? He is clingy as fuck, and wants nothing but her. Nothing.

Some fun things I love about him, he has one of the biggest appetites but cannot cook for shit. He is unironically hilarious, when he starts telling his little horror stories or ghost stories trying to scare MC, it’s so funny.

I feel like he gets overlooked so often, partially because he’s not as showy as the rest of LIs. I’m sure some might see him as boring, but he is safe. His relationship with MC is one of closest she has, aside from Caleb. They’re neighbours, and colleagues, and best friends. He is deeply ingrained in her life, and a foundational pilar of support for her.

Soft, hazy morning sex with him.

You’re both exhausted. He just settled in from an arduous night. You’re waking up to begin a grueling day without him. No telling when your schedules will align like this again.

yes he has his freaky bdsm moments, but 80% of the time its love making. slow kisses, deep, languid thrusts, his large hands warm and firm around your hips and thighs. hes so so into slow sex, letting it draw out for as long as he can. because yes he does indeed LOVE teasing, but he also loves to worship you.

sylus loves smothering you into the bed, loves being so touchy and needy!! hc that he doesnr rlly like doggy because you’re so far from him :( ..though he does like the view and seeing you bite into the pillow!

Spa day for both of us🫵😾

and for the kids too

whoever made this thank you 100x made my day

If this game was 18+ (like it should be) they would’ve added him throwing his head back in pleasure