I Wish That, Instead Of Reacting Angrily Or Feeling Attacked By The Love Many Women Feel For Love And

If I ask U nicely can I have another soup cup?

As much as you want 🍜👍

Society: be yourself!

Me as a child: *be’s myself*

Society: ewww omg what is wrong with you! We said to be yourself not weird! We’re gonna reject you and make you an outsider!

Me: but I followed your rule of being myself? Why don’t you like me? What’s wrong with me? Why does everyone else get the rules that need to be followed but I don’t?

Hands off what's mine!

✦Jealous Xavier fic ✦

SUMMARY: Xavier gets pissed off and jealous over Jeremiah (... again) and makes you call him whilst he's eating you out and fucking you senseless, 1k words TAGS: NSFW 18+, possessive s3x, p in v s3x, cunnilingus, exhibitionism kinda, xavier won't stop making out with MC

A/N: Heavily inspired by the insane amount of good possessive Xavier fics I come across...thank you all talented writers for the inspo ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

── .✦

Xavier's kiss was as all soft-lipped and open mouthed as he practically fucked your mouth with his tongue, forcefully tilting your face upwards to meet his demanding lips better.

Xavier had never been the kind of jealous that shouted. His jealousy was quieter. Coiled beneath his soft voice, and in the way his fingers tightened around you just a little more than necessary whenever you spoke to another man, or the kind of reproachful, poisonous look he would throw at anyone that caused the slightest bit of a frown to form on your pretty face.

Now, he had you pinned to the edge of the counter, his hips caging you in. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, slow and deliberate, kissing you like he was making a point — like every brush of his lips was a mark only he had the right to leave.

“Mention his name again, I dare you to,” he hissed, mouth dragging down your neck and sending sparks flying wherever his lips touched. His azure-blue eyes were flashing. “You weren’t thinking of him, were you? Jeremiah.”

Your breath hitched. “Xavier…”

“No,” he growled into your skin, one hand tightening gently around your throat—not to hurt, but just to remind you who was in control. “You don’t get to moan my name while you're thinking about him. While he’s texting you after midnight. You want to keep pretending it’s innocent?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his platinum locks falling into his burning icy eyes. He still looked gorgeous like this. His voice softened—but it didn’t lose its edge. “Call him.”

You blinked, heart pounding. “What?”

“You heard me.” His fingers were already curling around your wrist, guiding your hand to your phone on the counter. “Call Jeremiah. Now.”

The silence was loud. You could hear your heart pounding wildly in your chest, along with the steady thrumming of raindrops against the window.

And then his mouth was all over you again—harder this time and breath-stealing. His mouth left your lips only to scatter kisses down your collarbone, over your shoulder, his other hand slipping beneath the hem of your skirt until he had a hand against your breast.

“This doesn’t stop,” he whispered against your skin, “until he hears your voice absolutely shaking and moaning. Until he hears and comprehends what I’m doing to you. That you're my girl.”

Your fingers trembled as you picked up the phone, unable to look away from his beautiful face. He watched you with that maddening calm, jaw tight with hunger and jealousy he no longer cared to hide.

Jeremiah's name was there in your most recent messages. Xavier's eyes narrowed, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh of your tits.

Xavier’s lips found your throat again, tongue flicking over your pulse point as you hesitated, groping your tits,

You pressed the call button, and it rang once, twice...

Xavier’s fingers slid under the waistband of your pants just as the call clicked, and Jeremiah's voice came through, bright and oblivious to what was happening.

“Hello? It's so late right now, why did you call?”

Your voice cracked a little when you answered as you looked over at Xavier with pleading eyes. “Umm ... I just … wanted to say hi.”

Xavier’s smirk was all satisfaction and slow cruelty as his mouth returned to your tits—sucking and nibbling hungrily like a starved man, all whilst he looked up at you with his sweet innocent eyes. Your phone shook in your grip and your words are tangled in heat and humiliation.

“You sure?” Jeremiah asked slowly. “You sound … weird.”

Short pause.

"Huh ... ? N ... No, just a bit sick ..."

You looked over at Xavier pleadingly as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his face right next to your aching core. Pushing your panties to the side and attaching his lips onto your sensitive little bud. You nearly shrieked as waves of pleasure radiated from your aching core and Xavier's impossibly soft lips as he sucked and practically made out with your aching clit.

"Oh." Jeremiah sounded genuinely concerned. "Want me to come over, then? I can make soup..."

A cry ripped through you before you could stop yourself, as Xavier's teeth suddenly brushed up against your bud, his fingers digging into the soft plush of your thighs and ass as he bared his teeth at Jeremiah's words. Your hands flew to your trembling lips as you tried to contain your moans.

"No! It's fine, it's all good —" You gasped, eyes rolling back as you saw stars. Xavier, that fucker, you could feel him smirking into your clit.

He stood up once more, eyes defiant and bright. There was the soft clinking of his belt being undone before his length sprang out of his boxers — he was already rock-hard, tip an angry shade of pink, and precum leaking everywhere.

He was peppering you with kisses as he slid into you inch by inch. His thrusts were deliberately, agonizingly slow, the kind that drove you insane. You clutched your phone like it was your lifeline as pleasure racked through your body. You were struggling to focus on anything else but his cock.

"Are you sure you don't need some of my tasty soup?" Jeremiah asked jokingly. "You sound like you're pretty sick. Last time I came over — "

Your eyes widened as Xavier's narrowed. Jeremiah came over before?! All of a sudden, he had a hand tight around your neck, squeezing tight, and the other grabbed a fistful of your hair and forcefully pulled your head back. Shoving you face first, ass up into the couch, he slammed into you at a new, unrelenting pace, bullying into your poor little cervix.

"Xavier...!" you wailed, having fully forgotten about still being on call with poor Jeremiah. You were seeing stars with how good the dicking was. His speed was absolutely punishing, unrelenting now, and your ability to talk had basically been reduced to non-existent. You were a mess, in fact, crying and sobbing on his cock, all whilst your poor, concerned friend listened in on on the other end of the phone.

Xavier looked unbelievably smug. He picked up the phone in one strong hand whilst rubbing tight little circles into your clit with the other, and subsequently brought the phone to where your hips met. The loudness of the wet, slapping sounds you two made was obscene.

"Hey, Jeremiah." Xavier grinned. "She's sooo good at taking me, don't you think?" With that, he gave your clit a mean little pinch. That was the tipping point. You came crashing, sobbing and crying his name, whilst Xavier just proudly held the phone to your lips, so that Jeremiah could hear every moan of Xavier's name.

Xavier slowly fucked you through your orgasm. Hanging up the phone and tossing it aside, his demeanor instantly changed. He climbed onto you on the soft couch, snuggling up into you like a little bunny with his wide innocent eyes and pouty look.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Xavier said in a conversational tone, as if he was talking about the weather. And then, with smudge of a darker tone, "You're my girl. Jeremiah and Charlie fucking suck. You hear me?"

── .✦

A/N: I just love possessive men ... and the duality of Xavier usually being very soft and gentle whilst he's actually a closeted, possessive freak is very sexy ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

i love whenever random fandom drama shows up in my feeds; i love seeing intense discourse that i didn't know exist ten seconds prior. like, yes babes, you're right that ship is 100% wrong always and all who disagree should be banished to The Barren Realms

"normalize not transitioning" yeah that's already so normal that conservatives are fighting for it to be mandatory. you're not helping. shuddup. normalize transitioning.

"But why do you let your disability stop you?" Because that's.... what disabilities... do. That's... literally the basic definition... of being disabled... A disability impairs your ability to function. That's what the term means. That's the main thing

Smart Enough

Synopsis: Dr. Zayne has an incredible mind, incredible physique and an incredible stamina. Having a pretty thing on his arm at all times is just a perk.

Warnings: Dumbification, Zayne is a Hard!Dom, size-difference, choking, filming, not for everyone, Y/n is sort of a crybaby, drooling.

As your fiancé, Zayne is a handsome doctor with an impressive physique, especially when it’s hidden under that white lab quote. He's tall, muscular, and you can't help but obsess over how much bigger he is than you. “Y/n, stop trying to get me to flex for pictures."

The way he says it is so cold. He’s relaxing, for once, in his home office chair. He just finished a workout, he tried to never miss a day no matter how tired he was from work. Y/n pouts, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Pleaseeee? I always like showing you off.”

Zayne looks up from his laptop, those piercing blue eyes meeting yours with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “And I always tell you I'm not here for your'showing off'. It's not professional." Despite his serious tone, there's a small smirk playing at his lips.

But behind closed doors, with the night casts a shadow over them, he changes. Your phone is propped on a tripod, angled just enough to show your cock drunk expression. His arm is around your throat, the muscle squishing your face as he drills you from behind.

The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin. Zayne's grip around your throat tightens slightly, his voice low and husky in your ear. “See, this is what you want. Not some fucking Instagram post."

Zayne slows his thrusts, his hand sliding down to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at the screen. Your face is a mess of pleasure, his arm a thick band around your neck. He snaps a picture, the flash momentarily blinding you. “Perfect."

Your drooling, pupils dilated from the ecstacy. “S-so meannn Zay-!”

He chuckles darkly, his thumb wiping away the drool from your chin before bringing it to his own lips, sucking it clean. “You love it when I'm mean to you, don't you?" His hips snap forward, bottoming out inside you as his arm squeezes your throat.

You don’t want to admit it. Zayne is the smartest man you’ve ever met, maybe in the entire world. Knocking yourself down a peg is something that gives you a deep satisfaction. “N-Nu uh!”

Zayne throws his head back with a laugh.

God, you're cute.

He pulls out slightly, then snaps his hips hard. "You know what your problem is?" He growls, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a red mark. "You have no self respect. No filter."

You are whimpering as he releases your throat from his arms, instead he tangles his surgeon steady fingers into her your, pulling your head back so you are staring in the camera.

His fingers tighten in your hair, making you whimper. The camera captures your disheveled look - your mouth open, eyes half-lidded and slightly glassy, cheeks red. "Look at you," Zayne mutters, taking another picture. "No brain. No filter."

“I-I’m smart!” You sound like you are trying to convince yourself more than your surgeon fiancé

Zayne laughs again, his thumb spreading your drool over your chin. "Mhmm. And how many degrees do you have?" He asks mockingly, his hips moving slow and deep. "One?" He smirks. "Two?" He pulls back slightly, waiting for your answer.

You choke back a sob when his cock curved just right into your drooling walls. “N-none…”

Zayne's smirk grows wider, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and dominance. "Exactly," he says, his voice low and mocking. "And how many do I have?" He thrusts harder, emphasizing each word. "Four. Fucking. Degrees."

Zayne was a fucking child-prodigy of medical knowledge. But you, you were his pretty little Hunter that looked perfect on his cock.

His smirk softens slightly. "God, you're an airhead," He mutters, snapping another picture of your disheveled, half-crazed look. "One hundred fifty published papers. Surgeon at twenty seven. And you?" He laughs, his thumb pushing into your mouth.

"You're cute. Absolutely adorable. And so fucking stupid." His thrusts pick up speed, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes you drool even more. He captures another photo, then pulls your hair harder.* "You know what else you are?"

You are so far gone, if your life ended right that second, you wouldn’t give a single shit.

“The love of my life.” He bends your head back and captures your mouth in a heated kiss. His cock twitches inside of you, and he cums.

He breaks the kiss, panting as he fills you up with his release. He holds the camera up, taking a picture of you all - him looking intense and satisfied, you looking absolutely wrecked and filled with his cum. He sets the camera down and gently pulls out of you.

You whimper, coming down from a very deep sub space. You’re shivering, sniffling and trying to wipe your tears away.

He watches you for a moment, a soft smile on his face. "Hey, come here," he says gently, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you. He brushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. "You did so well, baby."

You immediately seeks his comfort, burying your face in his shoulder. His skin is sometimes cold to the touch, but there is no place you’d rather be. “D-did I do good?”

He nods, his arms tightening around you. "You did amazing," he murmurs, nuzzling into your hair. "I'm so proud of you. My pretty little Hunter, so obedient and perfect." He rocks you gently, his cold hands rubbing up and down your back to warm you up.

His voice dips, like he’s talking to one of his young patients in the pediatric ward.

His voice softens, taking on that gentle, almost paternal tone he reserves for his youngest patients and... apparently, his submissive fiancée when she's in a vulnerable state. “There we go... shh... my good girl..."

“Zayne?”

“Hm?”

“Am I smart?”

“Get some sleep, Princess.”

guys it/its isnt a free they/them pass. guys. guys plea