It's Xavier Rerun Week!

It's Xavier rerun week!

A Request(if you like it): maybe Luminere x on-the-run mc(maybe even an MC that works in the n109zone for whatever reason/evilmc)? Maybe a lil demanding dom Xavier action?

Thanks in advance if you can!

I hope this is what you were looking for❤️❤️

TW:Smut

🌟You again?🌟

You find yourself in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the N109 zone, air thick with tension.

You hear a soft, almost inaudible sound behind you, like the whisper of fabric on fabric. You turn around and see him, Lumiere, the bane of your existence.

His eyes, as piercing and cold as you remember, are fixed on you with a intensity that makes your blood run cold. He's not smiling, but there's a cruel, almost sadistic glint in his eyes.

You see him take a step towards you, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He's enjoying this, the hunt, the anticipation of finally ending your life. You know he won't hesitate, not after all this time. You've seen the way he looks at you, the hatred and disgust in his eyes.

You take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not afraid of him, no, you're afraid of what he's capable of. You've seen the destruction he can cause.

He takes another step closer, a grin spreading across his face. He loves this, loves the power he has over you, loves knowing that any moment could be your last.

"You look nervous y/n" he says, his voice a mocking drawl. "Don't tell me you're scared, are you? After all this time of chasing each other, you're finally going to give up?"

He's close now, close enough that you can see the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his hand clenches into a fist at his side.

You blink, disoriented, as Lumiere suddenly vanishes from your sight. The sudden absence of his presence leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, heart pounding wildly in your chest.

You quickly scan the warehouse, your eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant drip of water and the ever present hum of the city outside.

You know he's still here, watching you from the darkness. He's not the type to run away, not when he has the upper hand. No, he's playing with you, enjoying the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of finally ending your life.

You tighten your grip on your dagger, the cool metal a comforting weight in your hand. You won't let your guard down, not for a moment. You've trained for this and you won't let him catch you off guard.

Suddenly, you hear a crash behind you, the sound of something heavy and metal hitting the ground. You spin around, dagger out in front of you, just in time to see a large, rusty pipe come tumbling down from the rafters above.

You dive out of the way, rolling to the side as the pipe crashes to the ground where you were standing just a moment before. You come up in a crouch, your dagger still out in front of you, your heart racing in your chest.

That's when you see him, his figure darting between the shadows, moving with a speed and agility that defies belief. He's coming at you, grin on his face, a long sword in his hand.

You know he won't hesitate, and neither will you. And only one of you will walk away from this warehouse alive. And as he charges at you, you let out a fierce battle cry and charge at him, your dagger out in front of you, ready to meet him head on.

He's fast, too fast, and he anticipates your moves, leaning back to avoid the blade. In that moment you see your chance. You drop to the ground, rolling beneath his outstretched arm, and come up behind him, dagger pressing against the small of his back.

"Don't move," you hiss, "or I'll run this blade through you."

He freezes, his body tense as he drops the sword. You can feel the slight tremble of rage and frustration that runs through his body. He's not used to being caught off guard, not used to having the upper hand taken away from him so suddenly.

"You think you're clever," he says, his voice mocking growl. "But you don't have the guts to do it, do you? You don't have what it takes to take a life, not even mine."

You press the blade harder against his back, until you can feel it digging into his flesh, until you can see the first bead of blood welling up on the surface.

"Don't test me," you warn him "I've been fighting for my life for months, been running from you, been looking over my shoulder every moment of every day. And now, now that I finally have you at my mercy, you think I'm going to hesitate?"

You can feel his muscles tense, can sense the way his mind is racing, trying to find a way out of this situation. But there is no way out, not this time. This time, one of you will die, and sure as hell it won't be you.

You hold your breath, staring at the glisten of his blood on your blade, a sense of satisfaction coursing through you. But your moment of triumph is short lived, shattered by his mocking words.

"You think you got me at a disadvantage?" Lumiere's voice is a dangerous rasp in the darkness, sending a chill down your spine, and then he disappears.

Before you can react, before you can tense and track his movement, you feel the cool silver of your own dagger pressed against the delicate skin of your throat. The edge bites into you, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make your heart race with fear.

At the same time, you feel the firm press of his body against your back. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, holding you in a grip that makes it impossible to struggle. He's so close, too close, his body a furnace of heat that seeps into your skin, making your blood run hot and fast.

His breath is hot against your jaw, his lips brushing against your ear as he leans in close, cold steel pressing harder against your throat as he traces the tip of your own dagger along your jugular" You know, you've been a thorn in my side for far too long. Always chasing you across the city, always just out of reach, always slipping through my fingers like smoke"

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your heart pounding so loudly that you're sure he must be able to hear it. But even in this moment of fear and vulnerability, you refuse to give in, refuse to let him see the terror that grips your heart. You lift your chin, your eyes flashing with defiance as you meet his gaze.

"You talk big for a man in your position," you retort "But I know you won't do it. You can't do it. Killing me here, like this, it's not your style. But I won't give you that satisfaction."

You feel the sharp sting as the dagger's tip pierces your skin, a single red droplet trickling down your collarbone. Your heart hammers wildly in your heaving chest as the cold steel drifts lower, the point pressing gently but insistently over your racing heart.

Lumiere's voice is low in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "Oh, I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to enjoy it. I've dreamed of this moment for months, and now, at last, I have you right where I want you."

"I would have thought you'd at least try to torture me for information." you say, holding his stare 

A smile curls his lips "I already know everything I need to know, this isn't about information," he breathes "This is about revenge.

Your fingers inch towards your pocket, moving with a deliberate slowness as you try to keep your action hidden from him. The cool metal of the dagger's hilt brushes against your fingertips just as he begins to speak.

"Don't think I haven't noticed your little attempt to grab that hidden dagger" he purrs, "I know everything about you. I've been watching you for months, learning your every move, your every habit...."

"Fuck you!” you cut him off.

"Watch your tongue" he snarls, the dagger digging a bit deeper into your flesh as a result of your outburst. The pain is blinding, white hot and searing, drawing a gasping cry from your throat.

But even as you cry out, you're already moving, adrenaline surging through your veins. Your left hand comes up in a swift, desperate punch, your fist connecting with the side of his jaw with a sickening crunch.

He grunts in pain, his head snapping to the side from the force of your blow. For a moment, his grip on you loosens, the dagger's edge slipping from your skin, a thin line of blood welling up in its wake.

Lumiere's angry snarl cuts off abruptly as your fist swings towards his face once more. He barely manages to jerk his head to the side, avoiding the blow. In the same motion, he slams you back against the rough brick wall, knocking the air from your lungs with a painful grunt.

His right hand drops the dagger and shoots out to grab your wrists before you can strike again, his fingers digging into your skin as he wrenches your arms above your head, pinning you more firmly to the wall with his body. You jerk and struggle against him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you try desperately to break free. Angry, vicious curses pour from both your mouths, your voices rising to a feverish pitch as you scream and snarl at each other.

The distance between you shrinks, your faces just inches apart, breaths mingling, eyes locked in a furious, hate filled gaze. And then, without warning, his lips are on yours.

It's a kiss filled with all the anger and frustration that has been building between you for months. Suddenly, he lets go of your wrists and your arms fall over his shoulders.

His lips move roughly over yours, demanding, brutal, punishing. He nips at your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste of it mingling with the taste of him.

You feel the sting of the bite, the pain searing through you, but it only serves to ignite something dark and desperate within you, so you bite back, your teeth sinking into his lower lip, tasting your own blood on his skin.

He snarls into the kiss as your nails dig into his shoulder. His hand fists in your hair, gripping the strands tightly, using them like a rein to control your head as he devours your mouth with hunger. You feel the sting of hair being ripped from your scalp, but it only adds to the sensations overwhelming your senses.

Your teeth sink into his bottom lip once more, biting down hard to taste his blood mingling with your own. He hisses, and in retaliation, he forces his knee between your thighs, roughly pushing your legs apart, the hard muscle pressing insistently against your core.

You both moan into the kiss.

You kiss him back with a fervor that matches his, your lips moving against his with unrelenting passion as he presses his thigh harder between your legs, forcing them to open wider, a primal need surging inside you, threatening to engulf you completely.

Unable to resist, you find yourself rolling your hips forward, grinding down against the hard muscle of his thigh. Your body moves on its own, instinct taking over as you mirror his movements, lost in a haze of sensation.

You gasp as his hand slides down your shoulder, your shirt strains against your chest, your nipples hardening into tight, sensitive peaks as his thumb grazes over the swell of your breast.

But before you can process it, his teeth are on you again, sinking into the soft flesh of your lip. You cry out, pain mixing with pleasure, the sound caught in your throat as his teeth pull and nibble at your lips.

Your own hand moves on its own, trailing down the muscles of his chest. Your fingers find the leather of his belt, wrapping around it tightly, desperately, pulling at the buckle as if your life depended on it

His lips leave yours, trailing a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your face, your jaw, your throat. You can feel his breath, ragged and hot against your skin, his tongue snaking out to taste you, to trace the contours of your jaw. He bites and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh, marking you.

You moan, the sound catching in your throat as your head falls back against the wall, giving him better access to your throat. Your fingers finally manage to undo the buckle of his belt, the leather slipping through the loops of his pants with a soft, satisfying sound.

At the same time, his hands move and roughly grab the fabric of your skirt. He pulls it up, the fabric slips over your thighs, the cold air hits your hot skin as he gathers the skirt around your waist.

You don't stop him. You can't stop him. Instead, you find yourself pressing harder against his leg, your hips rolling instinctively, seeking more of that delicious friction, that pressure, that promise of relief from the ache that consumes you.

He groans against your neck as you grind against him. His fingers trail down your thigh, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. You shudder as he shifts his leg away and his fingers reach the apex of your thighs, your core clenching, empty and aching, desperate to be filled.

A broken moan escapes your lips as he traces your slit and without warning, he's pushing your panties to the side, the scrap of fabric a flimsy barrier against the thick length of his fingers. You cry out, as he thrusts two fingers deep inside you, your walls clenching down around them.

Your head falls onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his chest as you struggle to gasp for breath. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and the wet sounds of your arousal fill the air. His thumb finds your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves throbbing and swollen, begging for his touch.

His lips crash against yours once more, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pulls his fingers from your dripping core. His hand moves to his own pants, quickly undoing the button and zipper with urgent movements.

You hear him growl, a sound of dark desire muffled against your lips as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. And then, with one hard thrust, he's inside you, his hard, thick length stretching you impossibly wide.

Your head falls back, a sound tearing from your lips that is somewhere between a moan and a scream. You feel every inch of his cock as it pushes deep inside you, the thick veins and ridges stretching you in a way that borders on pain, the sensation so intense, so overwhelming, that tears spring to your eyes.

He is big, unbelievably big, bigger than any man has a right to be. It stretches you to the limit, your walls squeeze around it, desperately trying to accommodate its girth.

His teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as he pounds into you with a ferocity that borders on violence. His hips slam against yours, the force of his thrusts shaking you to your core.

Your fingers grip his hair desperately as you cling to him, nails raking over his scalp. You rake them down his back next, your short nails digging into the skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, leaving red lines in their wake.

He hitches your leg up higher, his arm sliding beneath your knee, lifting it up and out, opening you wider so he can fuck you deeper. You moan as he hilts inside you with each thrust, your back slams against the wall and you're sure it will be bruised by morning.

He kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue invading your mouth, dominating it, claiming it as his own. It's a filthy, wet kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation, and you feel yourself growing dizzy, your head swimming with the intensity of it all.

You wrench your mouth away, gasping for air, before you attack his neck with your own lips, your teeth sinking into the skin. You bite and suck, your own desperate need to mark him, rising up to match his own lust.

You had never known a passion so overflowing, a hunger so fierce that it threatened to devour you completely. It wasn't about gentle lovemaking, nor tenderly exploring each other's bodies. It was a battle, a war, the clash of two souls consumed by lust and rage and a need so desperate it bordered on madness.

Each hard thrust gives you a jolt of pain and pleasure, a sensation that leaves you wanting more. You are drenched, your arousal dripping down your thighs, coating his cock. Your body betrays you, welcoming his every touch, craving his brutal possession even as a part of you screams at the injustice of it all.

And yet, even through the haze of pain and pleasure, you feel a twisted sense of rightness, of inevitability. With him, in this moment, the old rules no longer apply. Boundaries crumble, leaving you raw, exposed and hungry for his touch like you've never been before.

You want to hurt him, to mark him, to make him feel a fraction of the agony and ecstasy that consumes you. Your nails dig into his back, your teeth sink into his skin, and still, you crave more because you fucking hate him. Hate him with every fiber of your being, with every ragged breath, every desperate, needy movement of your body.

Your body trembles like a leaf, shaking uncontrollably as he pounds into you with a force that threatens to shatter you into a thousand pieces. His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants against your skin, the heat of it mingling with the sweat that coats your body like a second skin.

You arch your back against the wall, pushing your hips forward to meet his every thrust, desperate for more, for everything he can give you. Your fingers claw at his collar, the fabric twisting and tightening around his throat, probably hurting him and choking him but you couldn't care less.

His movements grow harder and faster, his need as desperate as your own. You can feel him swelling inside you, stretching you impossibly wider, the coil of tension in your belly winding tighter and tighter until you think you might shatter from the force of it all.

Your eyes roll back, vision blurring, your world narrowing down to the feel of him, the scent of him, the heat of his skin against yours. And then, his fingers are in your hair, gripping it tightly, painfully pulling your head back, exposing your throat to his lips.

You come undone with a scream, your mouth opening in a cry of ecstasy as he bites down hard on your neck. Your body convulses, shaking and shuddering, waves of pleasure crashing over you, drowning you, consuming you, leaving you gasping.

And you hear him groan, the deep sound vibrating through your very bones. His hips twitch and jerk against yours, the aftershocks of his release coursing through him, his grip on your hair loosening as he struggles to catch his breath. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

Your legs feel like jelly, the muscles having turned to liquid, unable to support your weight. It's a good thing he's holding you up, pinning you to the wall with his body, or else you would have collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap. Your fingers remain curled into his skin, the red lines of your nails etched into his flesh, a physical map of your desperation, your need, your hatred.

You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck and as the fog of lust begins to lift, as your racing heart starts to slow, a sense of icy horror starts to seep through your veins. Your mind, once hazy and clouded, starts to clear, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

Oh god. Oh fuck. What have I done?

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you frozen and stiff in his arms. You just fucked Lumiere.

A wave of revulsion crashes over you, the urge to push him away, to scream, to run, nearly overwhelming. But you're trapped, pinned, held in place by the grip of his arms, the weight of his body, the sickening realization of what you've done.

His body goes rigid against yours as the horrifying reality of what just transpired sinks in, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring. His head, which had been resting against your shoulder, jerks back slightly, the side of his head no longer leaning against yours.

How the fuck did this happen?!

Before he can say anything, you push him away. Your aching, trembling limbs suddenly find strength, a surge of revulsion propelling you forward, forcing him back.

He staggers, his softening cock slipping from your slick, swollen pussy with an obscene sound that makes your stomach turn. But he doesn't reach out to stop you, doesn't try to pull you back into his arms. He stands there, rooted to the spot, his eyes wide and horrified, as you yank your skirt down over your thighs, 

You walk away, your arms shaking, your legs unsteady. But as you put one foot in front of the other, as you force yourself to leave, you can't escape the echoes of his groan, the deep sound that still rings in your ears. The sound he made when he came inside you.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your panties growing wetter and stickier with the evidence of his release. You can feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of his self loathing a physical pressure that urges you faster, desperate to escape. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over.

He is gone. Lumiere disappeared as suddenly as he appeared. But even as the sound of his disappearance fades, you know that he'll be back. That he'll return to torment you, to haunt you, to remind you of the terrible thing you've done.

Because deep down, you know this isn't over. No, this was just the beginning. The first step down a dark path from which there may be no turning back.