Xavier X Reader - Blog Posts

So cute!

drunken confessions | xavier

synopsis : After finals, you and your friends head to your usual barbecue stall to celebrate—only for your longtime crush, Xavier, to show up unexpectedly. A few drinks later, he drunkenly (and then soberly) confesses he’s in love with you, turning a chaotic, hilarious night into something unexpectedly sweet and unforgettable.

content : college!au, comedy, fluff, another crackhead energy writing

writer’s note : i’m enjoying this type of writing too much. I think i’ve watched too much How I Met Your Mother. (This is the fic version of this)

Finals were finally over.

You threw your arms into the air like a victorious gladiator leaving the academic coliseum alive. “Freedom!” you cheered, walking down the campus path flanked by your equally war-torn comrades.

“God, it’s finally over,” your friend moaned dramatically to your right, sounding like she was about to crumple to the pavement.

“Right? We have to celebrate!” the one on your left chimed in, already scrolling through food delivery apps as if her life depended on it.

You chuckled, adjusting your backpack like a soldier laying down arms. “You guys go ahead. I need to shower—get this stress off me. Usual spot?”

They both nodded, disappearing into the horizon with the determination of people about to inhale an irresponsible amount of meat skewers.

Cut to twenty minutes later, you emerged from your dorm freshly showered and wrapped in your favorite jacket—the one that made you feel marginally less like a zombie.

You made your way to the holy grail of campus hangouts, the barbecue stall.

Ah yes, the sacred grounds of burnt chicken, cheap beer, and emotionally unhinged exam rants.

You stepped into the familiar haze of grilled smoke and MSG, and two seniors waved you over, already parked at the corner table with a spread fit for a post-war feast.

You lit up immediately, sliding into your seat like it had always been waiting for you.

The food smelled divine, the beer was cold, and most importantly—finals were over.

Banter filled the air as skewers were devoured. Eventually, the chaos mellowed, and the group began talking about future plans—internships, travel, sleep, mostly sleep.

That’s when the friend to your right leaned in with all the grace of a gossiping gremlin.

“Maybe Y/N will finally confess to that cute upperclassman.”

You nearly inhaled your drink through your nose.

You smacked her arm lightly. “Xavier is just a friend,” you said with all the conviction of a bad liar, even as your face turned a spectacular shade of red that had nothing to do with the beer.

You sighed in relief. At least the subject of your ongoing emotional crisis wasn’t—

“Oh hey, look. It’s Xavier,” one of the seniors announced casually, tilting their head toward the entrance.

You froze.

You turned.

There he was.

Xavier—silver hair soft under the glow of the stall lights, hands in his coat pockets, that calm, unreadable face that haunted your thoughts way more than was socially acceptable.

The first time you saw him, you forgot what your own name was.

Your soul left your body.

You lunged for your friend’s arm like you were going down with the ship. “Why is he here??” you hissed in a voice three octaves higher than normal.

She shrugged, entirely unbothered.

“I dunno. He’s alone though. Wanna invite him over?” Her brows wiggled like the devil’s own dance.

“No—!”

Too late.

A senior had already stood up and was walking over.

You watched, helpless, as he approached Xavier.

Your stomach folded in on itself.

Xavier’s eyes scanned the table—and then, like fate personally hated you, they landed on yours.

He smiled. Just slightly. Just enough to ruin your life.

Then he nodded and turned to follow the senior.

You screamed internally, gripping your friend’s arm again. “He’s coming! He’s coming over here!”

Your friend leaned in calmly. “Don’t worry. Just act normal.”

You stared at her, deadpan. “I don’t have a normal.”

She snorted—loudly—and you could already feel impending doom approaching.

“Hey, you can sit here,” she chirped sweetly, standing up and offering her seat like a traitor with no conscience, despite the death glare you were very clearly aiming at her skull.

Xavier murmured a quiet, “Thanks,” before settling down right next to you.

Right next to you.

There went your pulse.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice so calm it made you want to simultaneously scream and crawl into the nearest dumpster.

You turned your head, smiling a little too stiffly. “Hey,” you replied, sounding more like a malfunctioning toaster than a functioning human being.

Then, in a move of pure survival, you downed the rest of your beer in one desperate gulp.

From your left, your friend immediately started snickering. Snickering.

You didn’t even look at her.

You just sent a slow, withering glare in her direction that said, I hope your next skewer falls in the dirt.

She only laughed harder.

Xavier blinked, a little amused. “Rough exam?”

“No,” you said, still trying to recover. “Just… social interaction.”

“Ah,” he nodded, like he understood completely. “Terrifying.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

Then your friend—not knowing the value of peace and silence—stage whispered, “Just kiss already.”

You reached for another beer. Or maybe a skewer. Or maybe a time machine. Anything to get you out of this.

“I hope you trip and fall,” you muttered loud enough for your so-called friend to hear, punctuating it with another desperate gulp of beer.

She only cackled harder.

Next to you, Xavier chuckled under his breath—quiet, warm, unfairly attractive.

You caught the slight curve of his lips as he picked up a skewer and took a bite, looking far too composed for someone who just sat next to a human panic attack.

“So,” he began, casually, like this was a normal night and not a social emergency. “What was your last exam?”

You blinked.

Brain, Say words.

Mouth, “…Yes.”

He paused, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes?”

You cleared your throat, scrambling. “I mean—econ. Not yes. I didn’t mean yes. Unless… yes to the exam. But no to—uh, wait, what was the question again?”

Smooth. So smooth you were practically sandpaper.

Xavier raised an eyebrow, amused. “I was asking about your exam, not proposing marriage.”

You choked on your skewer. Your friend howled with laughter.

Somewhere deep inside, your soul quietly filed for early retirement.

A couple more beers—and the gentle numbing of your social anxiety—and you finally found your voice.

Actual sentences started leaving your mouth.

You laughed. You cracked a joke.

You even made eye contact.

Progress.

Xavier, for his part, listened attentively, nodding along and asking questions with that same soft interest of his.

The conversation flowed easier than you’d expected, the awkward tension slowly dissolving into something… almost comfortable.

Until his fourth glass.

That was when you noticed it.

His cheeks were flushed, just a little pinker than usual. His gaze lingered too long on things that weren’t all that interesting—like the table, your cup, your face.

He swayed a little as he reached for another skewer, missing it by a good inch and playing it off like the plate had moved.

If it were anyone else, you might not have noticed.

But it was Xavier.

And you totally hadn’t memorized the way he carried himself or anything.

His composure was still there, somehow—his tone even, his voice calm—but his body? Oh no. His body was absolutely staging a rebellion.

You leaned in slightly, brow raised. “Are you… drunk?”

He blinked at you, then squinted like he was trying to read your face through a fog. “I’m perfectly fine,” he said, placing the skewer onto his plate with the delicate precision of someone who had just lost depth perception.

You stifled a laugh. “That’s not even your plate.”

He looked down. “Ah.”

Your friend, now watching from across the table like this was premium entertainment, whispered, “He’s gonna confess. I feel it.”

You turned to her with narrowed eyes. “If he does, you better start planning the wedding since this’ll be your fault.”

“I’m not drunk,” Xavier insisted, his voice smooth and composed, like he was delivering a formal report instead of swaying gently like a tree in a light breeze.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped. “Oh yeah? Can you still drink?”

He nodded—slowly, like he had to process the question through a slight fog—and then reached for his cup with the determination of someone about to win an Olympic medal in denial.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the full-body urge to scream at how unfairly cute he was being.

All around you, the chaos was beginning to unfold.

Your friends and a couple of the seniors were starting to slump, leaning into one another with flushed faces and increasingly bold declarations of love for fried chicken.

One guy was trying to sing to a soy sauce bottle.

You were tipsy yourself—lightheaded, warm, giggly—but still functioning.

Xavier, though?

Xavier was in a league of his own.

He still sat upright, in that proper, princely sort of way.

A little hunched forward like he was concentrating deeply on not tipping over.

His fingers rested delicately on the rim of his glass, unmoving.

But his eyelids… oh, his eyelids were betraying him. Half-lidded, heavy, with the softest, dazed look. Like he’d drift off mid-sentence or start quoting poetic nonsense about the moon.

He blinked slowly, like the concept of time had just become optional.

You glanced at him—and promptly had to grip the edge of your chair to stop yourself from swooning like a Victorian lady in a corset.

Because this was criminal.

He was a soft flush of pink and sleepy eyes and subtle swaying, still trying so hard to be composed.

And you, poor mortal you, had to pretend like you weren’t enchanted by every second of it.

“You okay?” you asked, gently, quietly.

He turned to you, blinking slowly, like your voice was music.

“…Your eyes are really sparkly,” he murmured, out of nowhere.

You stared.

Your brain short-circuited.

Your friend across the table dropped her chopsticks in delight.

“What?” was the only semi-functional sound your brain managed to produce.

Xavier just blinked at you, slowly, like he hadn’t just casually dropped a romance-novel bomb in the middle of your beer-stained dinner table.

Your entire face ignited. Your soul, body, and spirit were currently rotating in a microwave.

You tried to laugh it off, punching his arm lightly in that awkward, ha-ha-we’re-just-buddies-right kind of way.

“U-Uhm, nice one,” you stammered, cheeks blazing, “Ha ha…”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even pretend like it was a joke.

Instead, he kept swaying gently in place, silver hair a little messy, his blue eyes half-lidded but unwavering—like he was trying to memorize your face in 144p resolution.

And then, he did it.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, slurring ever so slightly.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Your brain rebooted. “I’m sorry, what?”

He tilted his head lazily, looking dead serious in the way only drunk people and toddlers could manage.

“No,” he corrected softly. “I am in love with you.”

It wasn’t even dramatic. No violin swell. No romantic sparkles.

Just Xavier, stating it like he was confirming his name on a test paper.

Your entire body malfunctioned.

Across the table, your friend audibly choked on her drink.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Mostly because your thoughts were somewhere between did he just say that, what do I do with my hands, and oh no he’s so pretty when he’s drunk this is unfair.

Xavier blinked at you again, that tiny sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really warm,” he added, like that was relevant.

You were going to ascend. Or pass out. Or maybe both.

All you knew was, finals were over, the beer was too strong, and Xavier—your Xavier—just confessed to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Without warning, Xavier reached up—slow, a little wobbly, but with full drunken confidence—and gently tapped your cheek with the back of his fingers like he was checking if you were running a fever.

“Even your face is warm,” he mumbled, slurring just enough to make your heart explode.

You short-circuited.

“Y-You can’t just say stuff like that!” you blurted, eyes wide, voice pitched several octaves above sanity.

He blinked at you, completely unfazed, expression dead serious. “But it’s true.”

Your brain actually lagged.

Which part?

The part where he said he was in love with you?

Or the part where your face was warm?

Because frankly, both were devastating, but only one had you questioning the very fabric of your reality.

He was still staring at you—head tilted slightly, like a confused puppy but hotter—while your internal organs were folding into themselves like origami.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Failed.

Somewhere in the background, your friend whispered, “I knew it. I knew it,” like she’d just won the love confession lottery.

“I like being around you,” Xavier says, like he’s commenting on the weather.

Calm. Collected.

Unbothered by the fact that he’s casually dismantling your nervous system.

He pauses, gaze drifting downward to his hands like they just revealed a deep cosmic truth to him.

Then, in the same sleepy, matter-of-fact voice, he adds,

“I believe that also means… I love you.”

And that’s it.

That’s your cause of death.

Not the beer. Not the stress of finals.

But this. Xavier, casually confessing like it’s just another Tuesday.

You practically combust. “X-Xavier, s-stop!” you stammer, hands flailing like you could physically swat his words out of the air.

He frowns immediately, the expression so heartbreakingly sincere that you panic harder. “Should I take it back?”

“NO!” you blurt, horrified at the idea, mortified that you said it so fast.

He blinks, then—smiles. That slow, boyish, ridiculously soft smile that should honestly be illegal.

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, he flops sideways with all the grace of a tranquilized swan, landing directly on your shoulder like it’s the most natural ending to a love confession.

You sit there, stiff as a board, heart pounding loud enough to scare birds out of nearby trees, while everyone else continues drunkenly yelling about chicken wings.

Meanwhile, Xavier is peacefully nestled into you, blissfully unaware that you may never recover from this moment.

Ever.

You instinctively reach up and steady him when he starts to slump off your shoulder, your hand cradling the back of his head like it’s muscle memory.

He hums—hums—in approval, nuzzling a little closer like a sleepy cat that just decided yes, this is home now.

Externally, you manage a calm, nurturing expression.

Serene. Unbothered.

The image of someone who’s got it all under control.

Internally?

You are screaming.

Full-volume, running-in-circles, kicking-the-wall kind of screaming.

The kind where a tiny version of you is throwing confetti and another one is passed out face-down on the floor.

Because Xavier—Xavier—just confessed to being in love with you, smiled when you told him not to take it back, and is now peacefully passed out on your shoulder like you’re his favorite pillow.

You glance down at him, at his soft silver hair brushing your jacket, his lips parted slightly in sleep, and that barely-there smile still lingering like he fell asleep mid-dream.

You want to die.

You want to frame this moment.

You want to scream some more.

Instead, you just hold him a little tighter, letting your fingers rest in his hair, and pray to every celestial being that no one at the table is taking photos.

Yeah, they definitely are.

As the barbecue stall starts closing up, your friends slowly stumble out one by one, still giggling, hiccuping, and occasionally bursting into spontaneous song.

Xavier, meanwhile, is still half-asleep and draped over you like a very warm, very handsome weighted blanket.

You gently coax him to his feet, letting him lean on you as you guide him outside.

Your friends snicker as they pass, waving like little gremlins of chaos.

“Good luck!” one sings.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” another adds, immediately tripping over the curb.

“Wait—guys—seriously?!” you call after them, but they just cackle and disappear into the night like the unhelpful heathens they are.

You turn to Xavier, sighing. “Hey, can you still walk?”

He nods—slowly, dramatically—like a prince trying to prove he’s still fit for battle. You start leading him back toward campus, his steps wobbly but determined.

“I don’t know where your dorm is,” you murmur, glancing at him, half-expecting him to pass out again mid-stride.

Instead, he straightens up a little, eyes still sleepy but focused now.

Then he turns to you—completely serious—and says,“I can sleep with you then.”

You. Burn.

Not just blush. Burn. Entire face. Neck. Soul. Torched.

You stop walking, staring at him like he just suggested marriage and tax forms.

“W-What—Xavier—no—what?!”

He simply blinks at you, unbothered, totally calm. “You said you don’t know where my dorm is.”

“That doesn’t mean the solution is my bed!”

He tilts his head. “It’s efficient.”

You are seconds away from combusting. “You are not allowed to be drunk and logical.”

He just smiles sleepily. “Is that a no?”

You throw your hands up. “It’s a blinking red question mark, Xavier!”

And yet… you’re still guiding him toward your dorm.

Because let’s be real—you lost control of this night the second he said your eyes were sparkly.

After several chaotic, borderline slapstick attempts to keep him from collapsing against your doorframe, you finally manage to wrestle your key into the lock and swing the door open.

Xavier immediately leans all his weight into you like a dramatic Victorian faint.

“Thank God my dorm mate isn’t here,” you mutter, half-dragging, half-guiding him inside.

He makes a content little noise before unceremoniously plopping onto your bed—limbs sprawled like a cat who’s claimed a sunbeam.

You let out a breath, briefly debating whether you should be concerned or impressed.

You rummage through your desk drawer for your water bottle, muttering something about hydration and not letting attractive upperclassmen die on your watch.

“Okay, sit up, come on, just for a second,” you say, gently propping him upright with one arm while pressing the bottle into his hands.

To your mild surprise, he drinks obediently, eyes fluttering shut with every sip like water was the most spiritual experience he’s ever had.

You smile a little despite yourself. “There we go. Good job. See? You’re still alive.”

You set the bottle down.

Only to be yanked by the wrist a second later as you let out a surprised, “Whoop—!” And stumble forward—right into him.

He wraps his arm around you like it was part of his plan all along, his face now way, way too close, that ridiculous sleepy smile on his lips.

“I got you,” he mumbles.

You freeze.

Brain, Critical error.

Heart, Left the chat.

Entire body, Flushed like a broken toilet.

You stay frozen, hovering awkwardly over him while his arm stays wrapped around your wrist like it belonged there.

His grip isn’t tight—just secure enough to say don’t go yet.

“You’re warm again,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded but locked onto yours.

You open your mouth.

To say what, you have no idea—something stupid probably, like “so is the room” or “that’s called body heat, genius.”

But before you can embarrass yourself further, Xavier shifts, just enough so he’s sitting up properly.

And then he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

Not with that sleepy, slurred haze from earlier, but something quieter.

Steadier.

Like there’s still a buzz behind his eyes, sure, but his words… they come out clear.

“I meant it, you know,” he says softly.

You blink. “Meant what?”

His thumb brushes lightly along the inside of your wrist, absent-minded and devastating. “What I said back there. About being in love with you.”

The air in your dorm goes still.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears, and you’re suddenly aware of everything—his closeness, the smell of his cologne, the fact that he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in this world.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” he continues, voice quiet. “You’re the first person I look for in a room. You make everything feel… lighter. I didn’t mean to say it like that tonight—like a drunk idiot.”

You swallow.

You can’t think.

You can only feel.

And you feel everything.

“But it’s true,” he finishes. “All of it. I love you.”

And there it is.

Real. Sober. Out in the open.

No laughter. No slurring.

Just Xavier, slightly flushed and slightly unsteady—but honest.

Your chest tightens. Your cheeks burn.

You don’t know what to say.

But he’s still watching you, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

And suddenly, it hits you.

You’re not screaming internally anymore.

You’re melting.

He watches you for a moment longer, as if waiting—maybe for a response, maybe just to make sure you heard him.

But when you don’t bolt out of the room or push him off the bed, something in his expression softens.

Then he smiles.

That small, satisfied, heart-wrecking smile like he just crossed the finish line of something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

Without another word, he tugs gently at your wrist, pulling you into him. You stumble forward—again—and this time, he wraps both arms around you in a warm, grounding hug.

One that’s a little loose, a little sleepy, but completely sincere.

And then?

He flops backward on your bed, dragging you halfway down with him.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles into your shoulder, already halfway to dreaming, his breath slow and even.

Just like that—confession dropped, walls down, chaos behind him—Xavier falls asleep holding you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You lie there, heart pounding, brain fried, limbs refusing to move.

Because you just heard the words I love you.

And now, you’re the pillow of the boy who said them.

Morning after Long Work Days

CONTENT: a little suggestive ... which it is not as this will get a Part 2. Fluff, sleepy weepy. Mainly FLUFF and Comfort...

The first rays of sun slipped through the closed curtains illuminating the room in a warm yellow orange glow. I have been up since a long time but not able to move or shift and my arms and legs have numbed out by now. Why you may ask…

Well, the problem is, there is this 6ft boyfriend of mine practically sleeping on top of me and I don’t have a heart to wake him up or move him and just … I have giving up at this point. This has been going on since 4:30 am, but one thing I can say, he looked peaceful enough for me to just …… (deep breathe) appreciate him.

The sunlight hit his face just at the right angle to illuminate his features, Xavier lays on my chest, like an ethereal god. The last few days were hard for both of us with the amount of wanderer appearance and night duties we both pulled through, barely resting and just going on and on. And looking at both of us walking around like zombies at the association, Jenna at last called us to her office and told us to get a leave. Both me and Xavier didn’t remember how we returned home or if we ate anything or even bathe. I just remember somehow, I got those leather straps and work clothes off and just wear one of Xavier’s hoodies and shorts and falling on bed, and then as I drifted off, I did feel a oh so light kiss on my forehead and being enveloped in a warm embraced and soon I was out like a light.

And now, here I am being crushed by my 6ft boyfriend Xav, who looks much better and I am happy that he got is much deserved rest. This sweetheart of mine couldn’t even take a proper nap in past 1 week. Looking at his face, his mouth just slightly open, his chest going up and down sync with my heartbeat, his arms hanging loosey around me, legs dangling off and his face on my neck. It felt good to be trust like this by a person. A person, even if everyone says “Xavier is the best hunter out there, Xavier this, Xavier that…” treating him as something dangerous, or a lethal weapon, but in the end of the day, he is too a person who needs to rest which he doesn’t get much due to his active hearing or alertness. Therefore, seeing this idiot of my bf, forgetting the world and sleeping soundly like a baby on top of me, yes, he a person to me first before he is the best hunter in Linkon.

Thoughts like these were running wild in my head as I slowly caressed his head and ran my fingers through his hair. Letting out a heavy sigh and deep in my thoughts, I didn’t feel him shift closer to me until I felt a soft and feather like kiss on my neck followed by him nuzzling his nose and sniffing me.

“Stop that brain of yours from overthinking, its going to break soon enough.” He said softly.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I asked him letting my fingers graze his back, along his spine which sent a shiver down his body as he shifted again and at last faced me.

“Why you up now?” he said nuzzling into my chest like a literal cat and a laughter bubbled out of me.

“OH, my handsome sweet pie, love of my life, cutie of a boyfriend.” I said pampering him with kisses on his hair and forehead... getting cute aggression just by looking at him and how soft and cuddly he looked.

“Ahhhhh ahhh…. Nooooooo…. Not yet” he said with a shriek as I attack him and embrace the shit out of him, murmuring words of nothing and everything, and he tried to protest that he didn’t like being pampering, but THIS IDIOT LIKED IT. I knew it. He acted as he repelled it but leaned more closer to me as I continued on with my playful assault on him. And he did let me, until I found my arms being pinned on my side.

“Seriously Xav…” I looked at him. Those night blue eyes looking right at me. There was a gleam to it, a liveliness to it which was gone this week. I let out a deep sigh, kissing his crown saying “Welcome back my prince charming” with a small smile.

He stilled for a moment, before relaxing again, “Why welcome me back? I was here…”

“Yeah, you were, physically, but mentally you were exhausted as f… and ya” I said caressing his head and scratching his scalp lightly ‘but that liveliness and happiness was not there… which are back again as you … I hope you did get some good sleep?”

“SOME GOOD SLEEP? No... I had the best sleep of my life today honestly. “He said with a laugh and at last rolled off me. I grunted slightly shifting to my side and saw him looking at me.

“What?”

“It looks painful” he said with a amused face.

I playfully hit his head ‘Its all your fault but ya ... I don’t mind it” I smiled at him.

He embraced me again kissing my nose and then my lips before I stopped him. “Not now… you smell and I don’t remember if we brushed out teeth or what not … Sorry”

“You denied me KISSES? And even EARLY IN THE MORNING? I have been betrayed.” He said with a exaggerated sigh “Betrayed by my own star… what a terrifying thing to wake up to. This is not my reality. Come here … lets sleep again and wake up in our reality where you let me kiss youuuuu” he said trying to hug me again but I slipped past his arms and sat up.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T GET UPPPP…... Plweaseeeeeee”

I let out a laugh, “Idiot… get up now. We didn’t bathe yesterday and I feel dirty all over.”

He looks at me with his classic smirk… “Are you perhaps suggesting something to me sweetheart?”

“MAYBE… but my idiot of a boyfriend won’t get up so…” I trailed off and got up from the bed to go to the washroom.

Soon after, I heard a knock on the washroom door and then saw Xavier’s face poke out, “Is the offer still valid yet?’

..........................................................................................

Sooooo.. even if i am swamped with college works due to exams and having writers block since forever, I made a line art of xavier yesterday night and

EARLY IN THE DAMMASS MORNING MY INSPIRATION HIT ME LIKE A SNOWSTROM

Hopefully you guys will this 😅, wanted to write a fanfic for so long and I at last did...

Might post this on AO3 🫣😵‍💫

But whatever

ENJOYYYY

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XAVIER. ꒱‎

lazy humping. ⋆ grinding yourself on him. ⋆ missionary w your legs closed. ⋆ freakydeaky. ⋆ thigh fucking. ⋆ kissing & eaing you out. ⋆ to your satisfaction. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ exhibitionism.

SYLUS. ꒱‎

taking it w no complaints. ⋆ handsy when handling you. ⋆ size kink. ⋆ using your throat to his liking. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ cute girl treatment. ⋆ chained & ruined. ⋆ had to add this in.

ZAYNE. ꒱‎

riding him in the bathtub. ⋆ tease me, baby. ⋆ clit rubs. ⋆ lingerie fucking. ⋆ late night heat. ⋆ in the shower. ⋆ undressing & stripping you down. ⋆ blowjob in cute bunny ears.

RAFAYEL. ꒱‎

stay still. ⋆ kitchen counter. ⋆ backshots & the plushies witnessing. ⋆ fucking you into the mattress. ⋆ fingering selection. ⋆ stretching your holes out for fun. ⋆ a wins a win.

Xavier Head-canons

• Hi Pookies! Just know this just for fun and I want more friends who enjoy Love and Deepspace!

No minors! This is Female Reader x Xavier!

Xavier is the type of boyfriend who is willing to spend hours at a bookstore with you. Hand in hand as you two drift into different aslies. You both gravitate toward a book that neither of you two has read but have heard much about. “I think you’ll love it,” you say as you hand him a philosophical book. He sneaks a kiss at your kind gesture and holds the book you picked out for him. The constant connection you both share for the love of novels keeps the conversation going. Passing by the spicy romance, you can’t help to pull a book out of curiosity. Flipping through pages of the book you land on a erotic part. You read a glimpse of the erotic part feeling the need to finish it. You could feel Xavier behind you reading the page. He lets out a small “mhm” as he his hand goes to your waist. You can’t help but giggle as you quickly close the book. “You know you should buy that book. Maybe we can try a few things out.” He says as his warm breath goes to your neck. You playfully roll your eyes as you grab his hand to go buy both books.

You were tossing and turning the entire night. Not being able to sleep even with Xavier next to you. You sigh as you sit up, grabbing your phone to check the time. The bright screen making you groan, seeing how late it was. You decide why not just get out of bed to watch some videos. As you’re about to get up Xavier realizes you’re awake. “What’s wrong? You can’t sleep?” He says softly with his eyes trying not to shut. “Yeah and I have work in the morning.” You say pulling the blankets on you again. Xavier notice your frustrations and smiles. He walks over to his small piano he has in his room. Your eyes follow him as you were curious what he was going to do. Xavier gives you a soft smile as he begins to play the piano. The melody is gentle, like a lullaby.

ME AND XAVIER HEHE

Zayne is so caring help I love him